I was at the Mansion Friday, an aide came up to me, took my arm and burst into tears. She told me an awful story of how she was visiting her daughter and went out to get the mail. Her daughter’s dog  rushed out to be with her, ran into the road and was struck and killed by a passing truck.

She was devastated, and we hugged, and I told her what everyone has told her, it wasn’t her fault, but I know whose words would be hollow, and I was at a loss to say anything but “I’m sorry.”

Honestly, I don’t think there is anything else to say at that moment.

For some reason, this conversation got me to thinking about Gus, our sweet little Boston Terrier who died earlier this year after a relentless disease called megaesophagus killed him slowly and with great discomfort.

I’ve written a book about animal grieving and I was thinking that it might have been easier for me if Gus had been killed quickly, in some kind of accident, or died after a brief struggle with a fatal disease.

At least he wouldn’t  have suffered so often and for so long.

It’s a silly thing to think, and how could I know? The hardest thing for me about Bus not that he died, but that was it took several months for him to weaken and die. He was a tough little dog, he was active and fun till the end.

His death was hard for us to swallow, but the hardest part for were the roller coaster months of trying different medicines, benches, special mixed and order foods. Gus and Maria and I went up and down together for months, until he had gone down too far to save or make comfortable.

Gus was a loving and uncomplaining creature,  these small dogs have little bodies but outsized personalities. Gus managed to weave  his way into our hearts and souls in his brief time.

I’ve written often about my feelings about grieving. I did what I preached for once.  I didn’t wallow too long in loss, I went right out looking for another Boston Terrier and found a very good one in Bud, who is so different from Gus in so many ways.

People who love dogs should have dogs, for me it is just that simple.

We got Bud when he was nearly two years old, and was essentially abandoned by the man who bought him and left to live outside in a small pen with another dog, who died of heat stroke. He was in many ways, a wild animal.

We raised Gus from eight weeks, and he was quickly housebroken and loved to go out into the pasture and sit on the donkeys. Bud is something of a shock. He was not housebroken, eat and chewed on anything that wasn’t nailed down, loves to run through the pasture, barks aggressively at times at the donkeys and sheep, dumps in the bathroom when it’s raining outside, chews on pillows and move shoes from one room to another.

He is, like Gus, headstrong and independent.

Getting an older dog is very different from raising a puppy from a good breeder. It is challenging, and I think I love Bud all the more for that. We have a lot of work to do with one another, and we both are up for it.

My idea of getting another dog soon after one dies works for me, although many people say they can’t bear to do it. I have not forgotten Gus, I think of him often, perhaps several times a week. But his memory recedes, since it is Christmas, I wanted to think about him.

I do not grieve much for Gus, to be frank. I have a rich and full live with three wonderful and loving and enthusiastic dogs. I have a partner in life I adore, a farm I love, writing and pictures to take, even a radio show to host.

My life is full and good. Gus (and Bud) remind me that dogs are a joy for me, not a misery, and I know they will die more often than I would care to think about. I accept that I cannot control life.

But I have chosen a life with dogs, and I take responsibility for my dogs.

I write about them all the time and learn about them all the time. I am grateful for every minute of my life with dogs, and I will not turn the natural course of their lives into a misery. That would be a sacrilege to me. When I think of Gus, I rarely think of the megaesophagus, I think of all the times he made us laugh.

He was hot stuff.

In the spirit of Christmas, I wanted to think about Gus and take note of him. He was not here long, but he cast a big shadow and reached deeply into my heart. So has Bud.

I like to think of Gus out there making other people laugh somewhere in this confusing world. I think his spirit lives, I think dogs return to do it again.

I hope Gus is having a great holiday, wherever he is,  living a long life in good health, with plenty of bones and treats to hide under the sofa.