Dear Karen Thompson, I wrote once about the idea of the lifetime dog, a dog that enters your life at a particular point in time and marks it forever. I thought at the time that you could only have one lifetime dog, but I have had more than one. There was Orson, who brought me to the farm, a dog beyond my ability to change or contain. And Rose, who made my life here possible. And Lenore, who kept love alive for me when I most needed it.

Red and I walk on the path together in the morning, before Maria awakens. He walks ahead of me a few feet, and then turns to make sure I am coming along. My dog.

Now, you have given me Red. He is, in two days, a lifetime dog, my companion and kindred spirit. It is almost as if he grew out of the soil here, he fits in so well.  We already read other like a well-worn book.  When I asked you how much I could pay you for Red, you said you wouldn’t – couldn’t – take any money for him. You felt that God had led him to me, and you couldn’t take money for that. Who does that in our world? Who gives a dog like that away for free?

People have all kinds of strange ideas about what it means to love a dog, but I think you and I Karen,  see that in the same way. You do what is best for the dog, even if it is not best for you. Love sometimes means letting go.

I know you got Red out of a bad situation and gave him a good one. I know you gave him the great gift of training – how to live in the world. I know that you and Red are soulmates, as you are both hard-working with great hearts and much courage. I did not appreciate until I got to know him what a remarkable dog he is – he will take me to many new places – what a wonderful trainer you are, and how good your profoundly spiritual instincts are in pairing him up with me. You will not  regret it, I promise you that.

You are person of great faith, character and integrity and apart from the great gift of Red, there is the great gift of your friendship, of great value to me. I have not always had good friends in my life, and what a joy to finally be finding some. I love our evening phone calls, your tar-thick Southern accent (You pronounce Vermont in four syllables), your great sense of humor. I loved that when I told you Red was having some trouble getting balky sheep to move, you said, “well, get in there with him and support your dog. Give them a poke with your foot. You’re in it, too.” I did, and they moved.

A great dog is no more a pet to me than to you.  A great dog is a partner to walk into life alongside a lucky  and simple human being.  Something by your side to trust and love. Not a wife or husband, but a partner still, a pure and enduring presence. You knew that Red was ready for a life that included work but also transcended work. You know I could provide that to him and I will.

So walking on the path with Red I thought of writing this Dear Karen letter, in the hopes that you would see it first thing in the morning when you get up on your farm, check on  your dogs and have your first cup of coffee. I know you are not a blogger, but I suspect someone will let you know about the letter.

I think I will always think of you when I think of Red, two loving and honest and generous spirits, lights unto the world. Thank you, sweet spirit, good friend, and that rarest thing – a truly selfless advocate for dogs. Thanks from both of us.