Well, yesterday was little Sally’s last day. On our February trip to Florida, she developed a persistent cough, which was diagnosed several times as bronchitis, but which turned out to be a tumor above the palate. There was really nothing that could be done, and she was in pain, and we knew in our hearts that the inevitable course of events was too much for our little friend to bear. So, we elected to use a service somewhat akin to pet hospice: a vet came to the house and little Sally spent her last few moments here at home, in our laps, with her favorite toy (called “Purple Minky”). (It’s too complicated to explain unless you can recite most of Inspector Clouseau’s lines by heart).

Sally (on the left), AKA registered as “Sally Princess Buttercup LBD Byrnwyck.” The “LBD” stands for “Little Brat Dog,” a title she earned every day with her incredibly charming, but equally stubborn, dachshund disposition.

We tried several times to persuade Sally that she was a dog, and we were people, and therefore in the natural order of things, we told her what to do, not vice versa. It never worked and we just gave up.

Sally was generally a good sport when it came to things such as being made to pose as an elf, although you can see she’s pretty much exasperated by the indignity of it all.

So, with thirteen years of great memories, and a fondness for our little friend that will warm our hearts forever, we say goodbye.