Frieda Joy Hein 2005-2009

This was taken the day Frieda Joy came home with me and got her name. Frieda was named for the wife of D.H. Lawrence. She died in Taos, NM (a favorite spot of mine) on her 77th birthday. On her own she was an intriguing woman, well worth learning more about. Joy was given as our Frieda's middle name because she needed a little joy in her life.
It is unlike our no-kill shelter to take dogs who have been involved in fighting but Frieda's plight was that she'd been used more as bait than as a fighter. Plus I took one look at her and said I would take her. I was at the shelter, volunteering, on the day someone brought her in and we asked the young woman to hold her at her home for a few days, until there was room for her to come in and be examined, get her shots and microchip. I was there two days later and answered the phone when the girl called to say she couldn't keep her and had just left her at Animal Control.
I freaked. We pulled her from there. She went straight home with me.
Frieda's timidity revealed itself in her fear of loud noises, storms, fast moves. She'd been abused terribly. Don't let the gorgeous image of her fool you.
Our time together was outlandishly brief. She very occasionally became dog aggressive and in an unprovoked incident she latched onto another of our dogs, through a gate. It was this that brought us to the realization that we could no longer trust her nor could we trust her to be all right in another home.
We said goodbye to her for two hours Monday morning and then she peacefully left us, never to have to defend herself or be afraid again.
And, with a love bigger than we can contain, we began to grieve, knowing we should also celebrate.
We gave her almost 3 full years of continuous love, pampering, attention, and spoiling. She gave us all she was and left us with wonderful memories.
I took her dish from the feeding area. Her old collar and tags are gone. The bedding she used has been washed and the bed moved to a new location so the others will not wait for her to appear. We did all necessary tasks to keep her dog friends from stressing out. But they can't help us.
Well, maybe they can. We can hold them, play with them, exercise them, carry on with them. Through them we will smile and eventually laugh.

She's always going to be with me. Her solid frame, her big brown questioning eyes, her need for a tee shirt during storms, her serious-dog approach to making certain we were all secured each night - always, always will be here.
She was what I am.
Vulnerable.
After Frieda was home with me I called the young woman and told her the dog was safe and would be with us. She wanted to know what we named her and I told her. Turns out her paternal grandmother's name was Frieda.
God gave us this beauty and the irreplaceable relationship we had with her. On the day she moved in He had to have a good time with the naming game. On the day she moved up to be with Him I bet He told her that story as she snuggled in next to Him and took a deep, relaxing breath as she realized now she could see everything we do all of the time. It's what she always wanted.