(Loved by Judy Hill and Myrna & Lawrie Nielson)

Sugar's story is one that is full of hyperbole. Sugar came to us early in May, and went to the Rainbow Bridge in late September. Our time together was terribly short, our love for her was intense and bittersweet. Her illness and death broke our hearts, and dashed our hopes for a good life for such a deserving little dog. She was absolutely trusting, endlessly charming, and had an adorable face that inspired not only the flight crew but a whole group of Japanese tourists to fuss over her on the flight to our home. We took her everywhere with us, and all my friends were a little bit in love with Sugar.

She must have been injured in the puppy mill where she was born because she was never able to walk and run the way she could have with a healthy, undamaged spine. Her injuries were to the Cl and C2 vertebrae, and the first time we knew how serious it was she yelped, fell over and stopped breathing. Her tongue turned blue and her eyes were unresponsive. In the car, as my husband rushed us to the vet's office, I was afraid she would die and I put my mouth over her nose and puffed air into her lungs. Again I put my mouth on her nose, and puffed. She gasped and began to draw breath, her eyes cleared but she could not move. On examination, with no other symptoms to go by and an x-ray that was inconclusive, our vet said we would try complete cage rest and an anti-inflammatory to see if she would recover and be able to walk. Our cat, Martha Stewart hovered over her all during her recovery, and I checked her several times every night. Gradually she began to be stronger, to regain the use of her legs and to eat again. She was such a tiny girl, but she had so much courage. She got better and stronger and again we took her to the beach in her carry bag, and played with her in her funny way, and allowed ourselves to hope.

But the gods were just playing with us. In mid September with no injury or incident that I knew of, she began to wobble and within 24 hours she could not get up or move. She was without feeling from the neck down. Once again our vets examined her, prescribed anti-inflammatory drugs, and sent her home with me. She never regained the use of her legs. At night she cried, and I sat up holding her on my chest with her face close to mine. Then she would sleep. When she needed to urinate she cried, and I would speak softly to her and tell her she was a good girl, and clean her and praise her. I fed her soft food by hand and gave her water with a syringe. She was alert and in no pain, but quadriplegic. I loved her so much I thought we might be able to go on like this;- as long as she could do it so could I. What foolish, cruel hope that was.

No deal with the gods could be made this time. Our vet, and a specialist from a major vet clinic in Vancouver, consulted by telephone in my presence, and they said the damage was too great and her condition too fragile for the difficult and delicate surgery that helps some animals with spinal damage. With a deep sense of failure and loss, and unimaginable sorrow, I agreed to let her go. I removed her tiny neck brace and held her in my arms, weeping and telling her what a good girl she was until she was gone.

Two years have gone by. I still can't tell her story without crying. When you look at her beautiful face in the picture taken by her first foster mom, Judy Hill, know that she was a perfect little creature, damaged in a puppy mill by carelessness and greed, who never lost her spirit, or trust, or ability to love. She was the sweetest pet I have ever known.

Grief is the price we pay for love, and Sugar was worth loving for every minute of her short, sweet life with us.

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