Goodnight, Sweet Pup.

In the late winter of 2005, nearly five years ago, we brought Mary Todd home. She was somewhere between six and eighteen months old, but still a puppy, and had bounced around between the city pound, the Anti-Cruelty Society, and then a foster home.

We didn’t know anything else about her, other than that she could clear our couch with a running jump, tear the %$#! out of a tennis ball, and liked to greet people by planting her front paws on the visitor's shoulders.

Mary Todd had a history. She was exceptionally interested in food, and learned to recognize a handful of English words and phrases, including “dog food,” “cheese,” “treat,” and “Did you feed Mary Todd?” She was at least part Pointer. She’d point at squirrels, rabbits, (and mostly imaginary) raccoons and opossums, as well as windblown plastic bags. She'd lean forward and freeze in place, with her right front paw lifted, until instructed otherwise. She didn’t like it when children ran past her. And watching people pack suitcases made her very anxious.

Mary Todd's neuroses faded over the years. But she never lost her fondness for food or for the one person she loved most (at right). Mary Todd, who hated getting wet, once jumped off a dock into a slimy Wisconsin lake in desperate pursuit of Sara (in a canoe) and sprained her tail in the effort.

In four years, Mary Todd completed her transition from "good dog" to "great dog." And in March 2008, when we brought Polly home, Mary Todd finally earned her award for Outstanding Achievement in the Field of Canine Excellence by babysitting, alerting to safety hazards, and heroically tolerating myriad indignities and humiliations.

Mary Todd's cancer diagnosis early last summer was followed by two surgeries and multiple courses of chemotherapy, which she handled with dignity and without complaint. In fact, Mary Todd welcomed the opportunity to swallow a half-dozen pills daily, each wrapped in cheese or coated with peanut butter.

We're grateful for the treatment that allowed us to have an extra six months with Mary Todd. This afternoon, we took her to her vet. After eating a ridiculous number of steak- and egg-shaped dog treats, Mary Todd died comfortably and quietly. We miss her.