Four summers ago my mom was enjoying her new beagle, Buddy. His arrival brought her out of a funk so deep I thought she'd never return.

Three summers ago we were watching our new arrival, Alice, with wonder and amazement at her every move. After 5 minutes of knowing her, I couldn't imagine life without her. At the end of that summer, Buddy was diagnosed with a malignant melanoma, the doctor thought he'd be gone by Christmas of that year. Today, he's miraculously in remission and Alice is gone.

Two summers ago we were nursing Ellie, struggling every day to get her to eat, to take pills, to stay comfortable as she fought a valiant fight against the cancer her former owners hadn't bothered to treat. Alice was our little clown, getting into trouble and still holding my heart captive.

Last summer we were watching Rainie Roo grow from a wee pup (say goodbye to baby teeth and remote controls!) as Alice prepared to leave us. For months, she and I spent hours in the bathroom as I steamed up the room then whacked her on the back to loosen the gunk in her lungs. We managed to fight pneumonia and win 3 times, Al and I, before the brain infection came in November.

This summer I am grateful for having been Al's mom and for the chance to watch my (now) two Roos grow, living proof that my Ellie's life was not in vain, that her legacy lives on in 12 puppies scattered across the west and in my heart, which is still broken wide open without Alice in our lives.

Zeus and Gus would like me to point out that they were both winter arrivals and that I'll chronicle their arrivals at a later date. They know that they are loved every bit as much as any of the dogies in my life.