03/05/2015
It was the eyes. That was the first thing I noticed about her. I was standing in a room full of puppies nearly fourteen years ago. Some were wrestling with each other, others chewing on my shoe laces, some curled up together sleeping, but there was one black and white border collie pup that was intensely watching me. She wasn't overexcited, fearful, or shy, but was studying me as if to find out what my deal was and what made me tick. I was fascinated by her as I could see the intelligence behind those eyes.
I have been fascinated by Libby everyday for the last thirteen and a half years. I didn't need a dog at the time; my girlfriend (now wife) was completing her PhD, we lived in a rental duplex, and I had just left the graduate program somewhat directionless. My fascination with her made me want to know everything I could learn about her instincts, capabilities, and needs. In short, how to keep her happy. The things we learned about each other together led me to share that knowledge with other families and their pets. My directionless began to take direction.
Libby could do anything and go anywhere. She has swam in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Maine, hiked the mountains of California, seen the splendor of the Grand Canyon (admittedly she was less impressed than Catherine Jolivette and I were), and heard the roar of Niagara Falls. She crisscrossed this nation several times with us. If I had one phrase to describe her it would be extreme self-confidence. There was never a room she walked into that she did not own, and no person she ever met that was not a potential friend. She loved going to training sessions with me. She quickly learned that this was a room full of people who loved dogs, had treats in their pockets, and would share those treats for the slightest of good manners.
Libby suffered a debilitating stroke Monday morning, and was put down Tuesday. There is a hole in our family that I cannot justly explain. All of our dogs are special and have their own individual place in our hearts, but Libby was extra special. She was my closest dog companion. When I met her I was a directionless guy dating a super smart hot chick. Libby was a major factor in finding my career, she was the element that Catherine and I began to form a family, she was among the first to greet the babies as our family grew. She loved babies; I will always remember the horror my wife and mother-in-law felt as Libby would lick the babies all over. I tried to explain it was good for their immune system, but I don't think I was fully convincing.
She was not just a family pet fitting into set patterns. An era has ended with the passing of Libby yesterday and Vic this past summer. The sense of compassion, empathy, and love of animals our children possess is directly related to their influence. Libby has left us, but she is still as big a part of our family as ever. Her influence will last a life time. My grief is tempered by the joy I feel to have shared the most transformative years of my life with such a splendid creature. As the flicker of light left her eyes while I held her head I whispered to her that her work was done and said, "You're in charge Libby, you're in charge."
