It was February 18, 2004. Bentley was limping and we thought It was just a sprain. She was a new vet to us and we had never met her before. Dr. Amber Talley, so compassionate, so caring tried to explain to us what osteosarcoma was and what it meant.
Before Bentley was gone, we put in a call to our adoption group and said we wanted a special needs dog. Bentley was a confident and outgoing greyhound, he would want us to help another dog become the same.
Joe was what they called a spook, scared of his shadow, scared of people, scared of anything and everything. We adopted him without ever meeting him and when we went to pick him up, the kennel manager asked if we would think about a little fawn girl, she was a kennel favorite. She was so shy that she had to be carried out to the meeting room. They called her Sara, Sandhill Sara. We called her Talley.
She was so unsure of her new digs when we first brought her home. Once she got here though, she never wanted to leave, ever. She became quite accustomed to Greyhound Gardens and although it made her quite nervous to leave, at home she was so happy.
She loved having a built-in pack and made friends with everyone, all of our fosters always felt right at home with her.
By the end of the first week, it was pretty clear that Talley Ho was going to be the class clown.
And she teased the boys unmercifully. Somedays I think she drove them crazy.
Our memories of Talley will be filled with laughter and smiles. She danced, she pranced, she loved her stuffies. When she first came home, we gave her our bedroom filled to the rafters with neatly stacked stuffed rabbits. When we would come home from work, we would find that she had moved everyone of the stuffed toys to her nesting area. Every day, we would re-stack and the next day Talley would move them all to her nest.
This game went on for weeks, it ended when she tried to take the mattress off of the bed.
Talley took her job as a 45 mile per hour couch potato very seriously. She was actually quite good at it.
All of the black that peppered her muzzle as a youngster was replaced with salt as she rounded the corner to 12.
But it didn’t matter, she was still the sweetest, most beautiful dog in the world.
On Friday, I knew the pain from the osteosarcoma that she had been diagnosed with just five weeks earlier was almost at an unmanageable state. We were getting close. So I grabbed the camera, first in the house and then I followed her outside. She knew. I knew. Oh how we loved our little clown girl.
Our memories of Talley will always be happy and wonderful. She was a joy.
She will always be our clown.