The untimely demise of Katharine Hepburn

The following events occurred several weeks ago. I was just in too much pain to relive it by telling the story. As time is wont to do, it has made the pain fade somewhat. But never the memory.

My cutest puppy in the world, Katharine Hepburn, was killed accidentally. I was walking her in the yard when she saw a squirrel. Her collar had been loosened earlier, I suppose by playing with one of the labs. As spaniels do, she took off after the squirrel, slipping out of her collar. She ran directly under the rear wheels of Sam's truck as he was turning up the drive. To say we were devastated is an understatement. I got to hold her in my arms for her final minutes and tell her how much I loved her and what a wonderful dog she was and how so very, very sorry I was. And then I lost my shit.

And my mind. I saw her everywhere, curled up on my pillow, peeking out from under the bed, everywhere. I truly believe that her death was the catalyst that sent me right over the edge. That loosened my tenuous (at best) grip on sanity and/or reality. That sent me to the psychiatrist for medication I obviously needed before she died.

Once I stabilized a bit, I started looking for another dog. One just like her. Morbid as that sounds, it made perfect sense to me at the time. I had to have her back, somehow. I imposed upon the ever patient and understanding Candy to contact friends of hers who raise that breed. I went to every website that catered to Cavaliers looking for a tri-color female. It took me three years to find Katharine Hepburn, so my hopes were not high. While the breed itself isn't rare, the tri-color females are hard to get. (Well, I could have had my pick of many if I were willing to pay upwards of $2000. Distraught as I was, I retained some sense). As luck, or fate, or whatever stirring of the winds you chose to believe in had it, I found her.



Meet Betty Boop. She's snuggled in the paws of my ancient Rottie Athena, who is in desperate need of a pedicure. She is sweet and beautiful. She has many of the same mannerisms of her predecessor, but she isn't her. And I won't dishonor Katharine Hepburn's memory by pretending she is. But I will pour all of the love I had for Katharine Hepburn to her.