She was a clumsy but beautiful six-month old Irish Setter when she joined us in 1971. She may not have been what I expected, but then I am often surprised by what fate brings me.

She came with a very fancy name – Lady Campbell McDuff – but we just called her Duffy. Her former owner wanted to interview both my husband and myself to see if we met the ownership criteria he had set for this beauty. But once I saw her and felt her presence, I knew she would never leave my sight again – and she never did.

Since my husband worked out of town most of the time, Duffy and I became the best of friends. We loved late-night talks, going to drive-in movies together, going to softball games and, of course, any kind of road trip. Duffy became my confidante and protector.

Life continued this way for three years until Dan, my first child, was born. Something changed overnight. Duffy no longer was just my pal and protector. Now she was taking care of the two of us. One summer day I put Dan in his playpen in the shade near the shed, so I could hear him playing as I worked in the garden. Duffy was lying in the cool grass; sound asleep beside Dan’s playpen. Suddenly from behind the shed I heard Duffy barking furiously. I rushed to the playpen to make certain Dan was safe, then ran around the corner, only to find the electric meter reader frozen in place as he faced our protective Duffy, who had planted herself firmly between the stranger and the playpen. She refused to let him move until I told her it was all right.

Three years later sweet little Sarah was born. Now there were even more of us for Duffy to protect, and lots more exciting action! She loved every moment, thriving on the activity, socialization and the excitement of it all. As the years passed she insisted on including herself in all the children’s activities, never wanting to be left out. At harvest time, she’d pull a wagon filled with Sarah and all the vegetables picked fresh from the garden, with Dan happily walking alongside. We’d end up at the housing development for the elderly, where the children would sell their vegetables for five or ten cents each. It may have been getting a little more crowded when we went to the drive in movies, but we always had fun. Of course, Duffy and I were the only ones still awake for the second show!

Although she had some cancerous growths removed when she was six years old and again when she was 10, Duffy lived an otherwise healthy, happy life. By the time she was 15, I was divorced, and the four of us – Dan, Sarah, Duffy and I – ventured off to Phoenix, Arizona to begin a new life. Three months later, Duffy became suddenly and terribly ill.

It was December, just two weeks before Christmas, and my mother was with us for the holidays. Duffy had been fine the night before, but around one o’clock in the morning she went into convulsions. I didn’t know what to do. Not yet having developed a relationship with a veterinarian, I looked in the Yellow Pages and frantically began placing calls. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached an all-night clinic. Leaving my children in my mothers care and fighting back tears, I rushed Duffy to the clinic. Afraid of what was coming next, I kept trying not to fall apart, all the while thinking of how long she had been with me and how much she meant to me.

Within two hours the X-ray results were in; the cancer had come back. There was a large mass in her chest area. Given her age and the size of the mass, the doctor said it was hopeless.

Duffy was not in pain, but she did not respond to anyone either. Clearly she was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it. After four hours I still couldn’t make a decision about euthanasia. The clinic staff recommended that I go home and call them in the morning.

Of course I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t I afford the luxury of not going to work that next day either. When I contacted the clinic in the morning, I found her condition hadn’t changed. She wasn’t responding to anything they tried to do for her. I would have done anything to save her, but I knew that realistically I didn’t have the money and she didn’t have a chance.

That day was one of the worst days of my life. I finally accepted the fact that Duffy was leaving us, and I agreed to her euthanasia. But I didn’t see how I could ever overcome the guilt, the pain and remorse I felt. And on top of all of that, the clinic staff was asking me what to do with Duffy’s body after she was dead! Wait a minute, I thought. I just made the most difficult decision of my life, and you’re asking me to make this one, too? Please, give me a few minutes…

I had contemplated sending Duffy’s body back home to be buried on my Grandparents’ farm, but that was more costly than I could afford and I would rarely get to visit her resting place any way. Burial in a local pet cemetery was too expensive for me. Eventually, I decided to have her body cremated, but separately, so that her cremains could be returned to me.  I chose the cremation service the emergency clinic recommended.

One week passed with no return of Duffy’s cremains. When another week went by, I called to ask what had happened to my dog, I was merely told that the facility was busy and sometimes it takes longer.

At the end of three weeks, when Duffy’s cremains finally were returned to me, I was beside myself. I began asking questions, and the more I found out, the more upset I became.

When I asked why it had taken so long, the facility owner told me he was backed up and running behind. He just hadn’t had time to get to my dog, they said. I snarled that obviously he needed to get extra help. When I asked to view the cremation facility, he told me it was not his policy to allow site inspections. Still not satisfied, I asked for the facilities address – and he was foolish enough to give it to me.

It took two more weeks for me to muster the courage to go see it. Without notifying the facility first, I drove over to the address I had been given. It was just as I has suspected; locked gate and totally surrounded by high walls. As I peered over the top of the wall, I didn’t like what I saw inside. The place was filthy. There were bags of dead animals lying on the ground. These were other people’s pets, and no one was taking care of them properly! Since it was almost dark and no one was around, it was obvious they would remain there until at least until the next the morning. Now, in addition to my grief over losing Duffy, I could picture how insensitively her body had been treated. There was also a growing doubt in my mind that the cremains that had been returned to me did, in fact, belong to her. I became determined to keep this outrage from happening to others.

Within six months I launched PALS (Pet & Animal Lovers Service), which began as a part-time business out of my home. Although I worked another full-time job, my clients would wait for me until I was free in the evening to pick up their deceased pets. Working with a veterinary clinic that had cremation facilities, I would oversee and assist with the cremations of my clients’ individual pets, making certain that the cremains were returned to the clients promptly, with all the dignity, respect, support and comfort I could offer them. Today,  18 years later, PALS is a full-time business offering services that have expanded to include the pickup, transportation, cremation and of companion animals throughout Arizona

Years ago when I was preparing a presentation on memorializing pets, I realized at that time that my entire business was a memorial to my beloved Duffy. Her cremains rests in a container on the corner of my desk, where her presence is a constant reminder in my daily work. All the samples of pet cemetery markers, cremation urns and other memorial products displayed in my office have Duffy’s name inscribed on them. When I work with clients who are grieving, or who are pre-planning what to expect and how to cope, what their options are and how much all of it will cost, I think back to how frightened, unprepared and alone I felt when Duffy died, not knowing what to do or who to call. I try to give my clients the comfort and support I wish someone had given me when I lost Duffy.

After Duffy died, I wouldn’t even consider getting another pet. I was fully prepared to grieve for her forever. I certainly didn’t want to go through such a painful loss as this again. Time went by, and in spite of my children begging me, we still had no pet in the house. I simply was not ready.

But then fate stepped in once again. One day as I visited a kennel to show/deliver (Katherine – you decide which is correct) pet products I was selling, a tri-colored Shetland Sheepdog puppy came running up to me. We liked each other immediately and although I had thought she was a love, I was not ready. The next week, when I had to return with another delivery, she spotted me instantly and ran across the yard to greet me. Her eyes were so inviting and her kisses so delicious! When I left that day, she left with me. I had been so certain that I’d never get another pet – but then I asked myself what would Duffy have wanted. All she ever wanted was to please me, and I’m convinced she knew that this dear little dog would definitely please me. I never replaced Duffy – I just added another member to my family. Abigail Cromby (Abby, the princess) was with me for almost 14 years. She ran PALS right along side of me for all those years and was the official greeter and “pet me” dog.

Once again, it was my wonderful dog and me. Abby was my dearest companion. Much as I didn’t want to think about her growing old and leaving me, it’s inevitable. I knew when the time came I won’t hold up any better than I did with Duffy, but I know this for certain: I do know what to expect, what my options are, who will assist me, how the procedures will be handled, that the cremains I receive afterward will belong to Abby, and who will be there for my comfort and support. Low and behold almost 14 years after that sweet dog came in to my life I lost her to kidney failure. Though she had her share of injuries and illnesses throughout the years, she had the best disposition and will to go to work every day to “meet and greet” (her daily duties). She was the best.

Once again I found myself without my loving companion. I definitely was more adamant about not getting another dog this time. Losing those wonderful creatures can be so unsettling. As the year went by my children (grown adults by now) were trying to convince me get another pet. My son, Dan had little Gracie (a little Italian Greyhound) and Sarah had sweet Riley (the Golden Lab). “Mom, you need a dog, they kept repeating..

After a year passed Sarah talked me in to looking at some little puppies, Shelties of course. I first saw her at 4 weeks old. At 4 ½ weeks old her mother did not want to nurse her any longer and assistance was needed. “Let’s go get her Mom, she needs you,” said Sarah. And there I was opening my heart and home to another little one who wanted my attention and love. Welcome to your knew home little Miss Hayden. You know, that was quite a bit for me, a 4 ½ week old puppy, up for night feedings and pooper scooping. Oh, it’s well worth every moment. Christmas, 2003 she was one year old.

Wouldn’t you know that fate continues to drop surprises into my life! November 20, 2003 Emma Rose was rescued and now Little Hayden has a new sister, playmate and companion. Much physical therapy is needed for Emma, almost a years worth, but when that’s over, she should be as good as new. She had a traumatic fall at 3 weeks and no action was taken care of to repair the injury, which left her right front leg impaired. Since the day I rescued her and brought her home she, has been a delight. Where am I going with this? I don’t know. But I’m sure wherever it is, fate will lead me.