Feb. 18, 2007

Please keep Susan in your thoughts and prayers tonight as she lost her beloved "Patience" today.

"Pay" was a 17 year old dowager empress that Susan referred often and affectionately to as the "antique cocker". As a puppy, I think she was initially named more from a position of hope than fact.

When I asked Susan some time ago, how she got into the dogs games, her response was "two words: Patience - Survival".

She was 20 pounds of feisty, independence and ferocious devotion. A fistful that Susan's father declared at one time, "This is the worst dog we've ever had in this family!"...but I suspect that statement was made as a left-handed paean to who she was.

Susan often said that Pay trained the labs first before she had a chance to.

Patience introduced Susan to obedience and agility competition, out of a need for keeping this highly intelligent animal in a job that kept her from spending her idle moments gnawing on the Ferragamo shoes, opening doors and gates, and authoring a general state of mayhem.

One thing led to another, and now Susan's life is filled with labradors in various stages of training and achievement - but all filled with Susan's talent and love.

Patience occupied, throughout her life, a quiet post of supremacy and dominion, but always keeping Susan first and foremost in her sphere of realm.

Susan - as those who know her would expect - provided her a wonderful life, as she does with all her canine family. And she held her gently as the vet provided Pay the release from the 'surly bonds', Pay's final act being chomping enthusiastically on some liver treats.

Her body had failed her but her spirit was alive and well. And lives on in Susan’s heart and memory.
I'm so glad I had a chance to meet her - and Susan will miss her terribly. In a way, she started her on a path and helped to make her who she is with dogs.

Godspeed little Patience, I'm sure you've already barreled past St. Peter at the Gate....

                                                                Feb. 18, 2007  Lydia Fekula

In Self Defense…  A Tribute to Patience

Susan’s Patience Katie, TD, OA, OAJ
December 12, 1989 – February 18, 2007

It has been 2 years since you left, but the writing of your tribute is no less difficult.  As involved as I am in dogs the inevitable question is always, “How did you get involved in dogs?”  My reply is always “self defense”, and I think of you and smile. … even though there were many times when you were growing up I was not smiling!  Your antics were many:  unwallpapering the bathroom- and yes, it needed it, but your schedule was way ahead of mine; jumping onto the toilet, opening the medicine chest, taking out my makeup & chewing it up…  applying it to yourself in the process!  And, teething on some of the finest Italian leather shoes.

I realized I was in trouble after I went to buy a book on cocker spaniels, and it indicated that you would live about 14 years…..   Off to private obedience classes.  And man, you were good.  You would stop at every street corner, sit while I kept walking, and would come back to me on the beach in a heartbeat….  But you were still full of mischief.  And, I realized I was in trouble when you went on-point at a pigeon in the park.  Because your nose was bigger than you were physically, someone suggested tracking to us. 

I remember distinctly the first day of tracking with the gentlemen who later became your best friend and my mentor…. An old curmudgeon who looked at you and said, “that weenie little city dog, you think that dog can track?”  And could you ever…    6 minutes flat to earn your TD!  You made it look easy.  There was not a breed of dog that your nose couldn’t leave in the dust in the tracking field.  Your friend, my mentor, John, taught us that most difficulties were due to the handler, and to “read your dog.”  He taught us about wind, scent and terrain, and their interplay.  So many lessons we learned together.

We tried competitive obedience, but you had only one word for that:  Boring!  When I would leave the ring for that 5 minute down, you would be up for 4 minutes and 50 seconds introducing yourself to the judge and spectators, returning to your place just before I would return.  Somewhere, I am sure you were hiding a Timex… but knowing you, only the best would do, and it would have been a Rolex!

So off to agility classes we went… and you “consented” to do that…   you loved the horse barn, and particularly “Coach,” a horse you fell in love with, and he with you, as you would take time from running the course to nuzzle and kiss each other.  You were the class clown, no doubt.  But, once we began competing, you not only qualified, you were placing with reds and blues.  Except when the crowds were too big, like the International Kennel Club meet where 3000 members of your “public” came to see you (I am convinced this is what you thought) where you would take some obstacles, jump rings gates to kiss and wiggle for your public, return to the ring and complete the course.  And although you were “out”, the public clapped and laughed, and you were pleased.  I was proud of you, most of the time.  But most proud that you earned your last title two days after your 12th birthday, on December 14, 2001. 

You traveled with me on my job, stayed at the LA Hilton (ok , your room service bill was a bit much), helped me through law school, patiently laying on my books, assisted me through the death of my parents, through the good times and bad.  You helped me raise lab puppies, teaching them to be good citizens.  No job was ever too big for you.  Your determination and spirit always apparent.  And while dad might have called you “the worse dog we ever had in the family” I am sure he knows what a great dog you became.  What an incredible journey we had….. the travels, the friends….   All the shoes I lost were worth it.

                                                                                Love, Mom.