Phoebe Gobi Phobia
Birthday October 1, 1991 to November 27, 2005
Gotcha July 21, 2002
I first met Phoebe at an adoption event. She was an 11 year old brood mama that had been picked up by the county wandering on the back roads. She had an overbite that went on forever, a sway back, she was quiet and we found out later not reserved. A young couple adopted her that week-end and I didn’t think about her much after that. Three months later, Karen went with me to an adoption event. There was Phoebe. Apparently the family cat was not an approved snack.
Somehow, Phoebe managed a ticket on the express train to Karen’s house.
A senior dog was a scary thought. How long could she live? Karen was serving her heart up on a silver platter. I was so wrong. Phoebe lived another good three years and that dog was a hoot. She re-defined what having a senior dog meant to me in a big way. She chewed, she counter surfed, she made us laugh.
Phoebe was the grande dame of the gardens. When it was lights out, the youngsters better listen, she always had something to say to them. The acre was there for her pleasure and she loved trancing in the trees and laying in the shade.
The day we let Phoebe go to the bridge, I promised her that the gardens would always have room for the senior dog that needed a home. We’re reminded every day how special senior dogs are.