Harley and Dinah

Nancy Sarnoff of Perfect Pet Rescue, the friend that introduced us to dog rescue, would call periodically about dogs that she had seen in the shelter but couldn’t take herself. She specialized in small dogs, so when she fell in love with large ones, we were her first call.

Harley and Dinah were two goldens that she saw in the Downey animal shelter. Both had dirty and matted fur, and the fact that they were nine years old meant they had little prospect for adoption.

As expected, both fit into our house immediately. Harley was completely friendly and easygoing, while Dinah was a slightly heavier lift. She didn’t like to be crowded by the other dogs, and a dislike for being crowded is not a great quality to have in our house. But she adapted, and there were no fights or major disagreements.

People often ask me if I know the names of all our dogs. Not only can I always name them, but I can do so quickly. The way I do it is by thinking room by room, since each has his or her own place to hang out.

Harley plants himself under my desk, and does so in Maine as he did in Orange County. Dinah, on the other hand, prefers the living room and a specific dog bed near the fireplace.

Two months before we moved to Maine, Dinah was diagnosed with an incurable cancer. The vet felt that she could have a good quality of life for six months, and he turned out to be right on target. Dinah died four months after our arrival in Maine. But she made it, and she will be missed.

Harley is fine, under my desk as I type this.