The dog in my profile picture

            Who is that dog in my profile picture? That's Dandy, my first rescue. She was a puppy in a box on the side of the road, and I was a five year old who wished on every shooting star and birthday cake for a dog. (Well, specifically for a Dalmation, but I didn't really know what to call other kinds of dogs.)
            Dandy grew up to be twenty pounds of adorable mutt. Who knows what breeds are mixed in her genetic history? Who cares? I never cared, beyond mild curiosity. She was my dog, and that was all I needed to know. Dandy was my best friend, my best playmate. She was the best dog ever, and there will never be a better one.
            I went away to college, and when I came back Dandy was in terrible shape. My parents had not cared for her properly as she aged. She had been stepped on by a horse and left to recover without vet care. Her rear legs did not seem to work much anymore, and she was starving. They offered her food every night, but it was poor quality kibble that she would not eat. They threw their hands up in the air, thinking she was so old anyway.... maybe she just won't get better.
            I was upset. I took her to Maine with me, determined to give her my very best until her last day, whenever that would be. My poor skinny pup, with her legs shaking as she stood! But she followed me everywhere I went, no matter how hard she had to work to make her body go. I fed her good food. I brushed her and bathed her filthy coat. (Four times, until she no longer stank.) I petted her. I gave her a pile of blankets to sleep on. I carried her up and down the stairs with me. I took her outside and taught her how to walk again, and she discovered a new way to run. She would hop her rear end in an odd gait, both feet down then both feet up in the air. The pain receded as she gained muscle and learned to balance again. She learned how to guess where her hind feet were, because she could not feel them anymore.
            Dandy had a laundry list of old dog problems. Her eye gave her trouble, it had for years. She had daily eye goop for it, and never complained once. She was on pain medicine for months, until we discovered that she shook less without it. She could not control her bowels, but she had a predictable schedule. She had warty nubbles in various places on her body, including under one eye and on some of her toes. Sometimes these would get scraped open and needed daily attention to keep them clean. The list goes on a bit. But through everything, Dandy kept her cheery expression and was always up for a bite to eat. Wherever I was, Dandy was too.
            After a year and a half, bladder cancer sneaked up on Dandy. There was nothing we could do. We kept her comfortable, and when her condition dove for the worse I knew it was time to let her go gently. She was tired. I could see that she would trudge onward as long as I asked her to. But the vet said that she would not recover at that point, and everything would be downhill. I wanted to spare my dear, loyal puppy that unneeded pain and fear. I took especial care of her that last day. I walked her, bathed her, brushed her. I fed her delicious people food she usually did not get to have. She trundled along after me, as always, but I could tell it was not a good day for her. I held her when it was time to let her go, and I felt her relax in my arms. The last thing she knew was my touch as I stroked her.
            Dandy was sixteen years and eleven months old. She died on August 16th, 2013 at 4:10 pm. That date and time is seared into my memory like no other.
            Everything I do now for the other animals, I do in memory of Dandy. I want her legacy to be the network of living, breathing animals I lend aid and comfort to. Dandy was my first rescue. I want the space she left in my heart to be filled with love for the current and future creatures who pass through my care. I can't just leave it empty.