A particularly noble picture of our Shetland Sheepdog, Montrose, or Monty, as he was known. Monty was quite large for a Sheltie, standing over 17 inches in
height. It's rather ironic that he was the runt of the litter and almost didn't find a home until we came
to the breeders' and picked him up, New Years' 1993. He was the little dog who thought big, though. Monty
didn't believe that there's anything he can't do or any other dog in the neighborhood he can't outbark! He passed away after a bout with liver disease on January 10, 2003.
Freya came to us in the summer of 1994. Here she is as
an incredibly tiny puppy being cradled by Mike, my husband. Her breeder is a wonderful veterinarian who lives about
an hour's drive from our house and we were pleased that Freya travelled well on the long drive
back to our house. Of course, she grew a lot in the first year! At her best
she weighed about 90 lbs of happy Rottweiler. It's sad that so
many people assume Rottweilers are vicious dogs. Freya was actually more tolerant and gentle than Monty.
She endured years of "big hugs", kid clambering and assorted other mild torments with only a few
mournful whimpers asking for help. She went through a destructive chewing phase as a younger dog and
with those big jaws, that could mean a lot of damage. But her obedience training held her in good
stead. She's a joy to take on walks and a very loving companion. Freya was put down after being diagosed with bone cancer, March 21, 2003.
This is how I like to remember them. Here they are together. They may look like a canine odd couple but Freya and Monty were really the best of friends. They played a lot (usually wrestling or fighting over flossy bones) and also traveled well in the car on our frequent road trips to visit our in-laws.
No pet page would be complete without a picture of Maeve, my cat of thirteen years who passed away January 29, 2002. She was never a cuddlesome cat, but she claimed me (and my husband's favourite chair). Back when she was a kitten, she'd nimbly leap from the back of chairs to tall bookcases (and jump back down as soon as some unsuspecting person dared to occupy her escape chair). She grew too old for that, but retained a twisted sense of feline humour up until the end and revelled in the love and adoration dished out by my two girls, Eleanor and Constance.