No matter how old our children are, the build-up to Christmas is forever filled with anticipation. Now that our daughters are in their 20’s, it’s all about being together.  I love nothing more than knowing the house will be full and the dining room table filled to capacity.  The sound of someone coming down the stairs to breakfast is just about as good as it gets. And every family has holiday traditions — the ones that you would never consider breaking or changing because it would just be wrong. When we decorate our tree each year, the first ornaments we hang are those that celebrate the special creatures who have shared our lives; there are photo frames holding pictures of dogs and cats, there are tiny riding boots, and a little red bow that once adorned a ten week old black Labrador who arrived on Christmas Eve.

In the summer of 2005 we lost our oldest dog Sasha.  By this time, she’d been joined by Henley, a handsome Yellow Labrador and Spice, a feisty Jack Russell Terrier.  I wrote in a past blog about how difficult it was to find a match for Sasha’s personality; she was an Alpha female through and through.  Because we lived on a farm and wanted to be a multiple dog family, we’d made the decision to have bred dogs as our family pets while our children were young.  The reasons for this are many, but it was something we felt strongly about.  Sasha’s behavior toward strange dogs made it very problematic. But puppies didn’t bother her; she enjoyed being “boss” and both Henley and Spice revered her.  After losing Sasha and witnessing the mourning animals go through, in the fall of 2005 we were ready to add another dog to the pack.  And, because Henley was about as perfect as dogs come, we decided on another Labrador, but this time a Black female to balance things out.

So on December 23rd of that year, my husband drove from our farm in Vermont to Rochester, New York (an all-day drive and overnight stay) to bring our daughters the Christmas gift to end them all.  Pippa was ten weeks old and was welcomed by three squealing girls, a skeptical Henley, and a bossy Spice.  She drove for seven hours on my husband’s lap on Christmas Eve, wearing a red bow that now sits in her memory on our tree.  My recollections from that Christmas are some of my most vivid because they were carved by the arrival of one of the sweetest dogs to ever walk the earth.  Anyone who knows Labs understands; they are just different. Many years later, Pippa would go on to become Zara’s first friend; Pippa was as happy- go -lucky as they come, and was able to comfort and heal Zara in the same way that George did for Sterling.

Now that our children are grown,  all of the animals in our care have come from either a shelter, a bad situation, or (in the case of our kittens) from under the neighbor's porch.  I do feel very strongly about rescue vs. breeding; I firmly believe that there are far too many unwanted and unloved animals suffering in this world.  But, there are times when finding the right breed for your situation is incredibly important, and I stand by our decision to raise the dogs we did when our children were tiny.  We knew there would come a day when our options could be different, and we now try to always give back for the years we could not.

I have a quote that hangs in our house and one line states “…on reflection, our lives are often referenced in parts defined by the all too short lives of our dogs.”  I’ll add cats and horses to that too.  For me, I reference Christmas memories by which animals sat by the fires with us, or played under the tree, or allowed the girls to climb into the saddle for Christmas photos.  They are remembered, loved and missed.