Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

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Lately, I’ve been thinking about my dog. Her name is Bella and she’s some kind of cattle-dog mix, which is apparent by her two striking blue eyes. I found Bella 12 years ago while shopping at PetSmart on a day when a local shelter was holding an adoption event at the store.

***Bella, on the right, with her best friend Sadie who a while back crossed the Rainbow Bridge.***

I had lost a canine friend a year or so earlier—a lovely little black-and-white border collie named Georgie who’s death at 15 left a sad hole in my world and which rendered my remaining dog Sadie home alone when I went to work.

While pushing my cart past the thigh-high enclosure that housed the dogs looking for homes, I noted that Bella was getting a lot of attention, as blue-eyed dogs often do. I didn’t know if I was ready yet, so I picked up the pet supplies I needed and did my best to walk out of the store without looking back.

Clearly, I was unsuccessful, as now Bella, who’s approaching 14, is still staring at me with those eyes that at times appear almost human.

I have had a dozen dogs over the course of my life, all wildly different with their own distinct personalities, creatures that brought a dimension to my world that I don’t believe could have been filled by any other animal. My feline friends would no doubt insist that I mention the fact that I’ve also cohabitated with dozens of cats over the years and though I love them equally and the space they occupy in my heart is just as important, it is a bit different.

Bella, despite her age, is still vigorous and jumps around like a puppy when she senses it’s time for a walk or a cookie. She’s been healthy most of her life, despite a few scary trips to the vet. The one I can’t forget is the time I received a call at work saying Bella had a severely injured leg and was crying piteously.

***Cattle dogs are an exception to the rule and can live up to 20 years, so even though Bella is a mixed breed, perhaps she too will continue to defy the predictions.***

I rushed her to the vet who explained that Bella was in a bad way. “Probably a broken leg or a torn Achilles tendon.” The doctor then pointed out that said repairs could cost several thousand dollars, which had me convinced I might have to put Bella down. I cried as I waited for the test results.

When the vet returned she seemed a bit perplexed. “Well, the X-rays show there is nothing wrong with Bella.” She stared at my dog. “I think she’s just a drama queen.”

I glared at Bella who blinked those blue eyes and appeared to be smiling. Then the vet handed me a bill for $645.

The question I’ve been pondering lately is what happens when Bella mounts that Rainbow Bridge. She’s an old girl, though a recent article in USA Today gave me hope that she may have more years to go than I previously imagined. The story, titled “Which dog breeds have the longest lives?”, enumerated the number of years a dog might be expected to live based on their size. Small dogs can live between 14 and 16 years. Large dogs—those over 50 pounds—usually live only seven to ten years. Those in the medium category, of which Bella is a member, should live about 10 to 12 years. However, there is one strange exception to the rule. One medium-size breed defies the predictions. It seems that cattle dogs can live up to 20 years. Why? No one has any idea.

No matter how long Bella gets to stay with us, I now know she is my last dog. The idea breaks my heart, but as I approach 70 and do the math I realize that I do not want to leave a cherished pet behind, an animal that someone else must care for.

I’ve given this a lot of thought. It’s a difficult decision, as I so enjoy the evenings when there’s a cat in my lap and a dog curled up at my feet. But in my heart I know it’s the right thing to do.