Donna Nicosia says Sally will be flying West with her new owner this coming Monday, all of her health clearances, fees, special crate, and tickets have been purchased.

Hopefully, this will be the last genuinely stressful day of her life.

Thanks once again for your support.

Sally is in excellent shape, says Donna, the vet, and her able and loving fosterer, Bette, who did a marvelous job of bringing the traumatized and neglected Sally back to life.

Several people have asked me to keep them posted about Sally, but I think I shouldn’t do that. Cathy, her new owner, may not wish to be as open as I am, she and Sally are entitled to whatever level of privacy they want or need.

In my mind, there is a point where trouble becomes drama, and I am done with drama in my life.

I am confident Sally is going off to a kind and loving home, and I think that will be my signal to leave her story behind.

If anybody wants updates, you can check with Donna Nicosia, [email protected]. If I get any updates or messages, I will try to share them, but I am not comfortable dwelling in the past for too long..

I hope I have a lot of new stories to tell; I will let the old ones go their way.

I am sad about Susan Popper today, I keep getting messages from people who knew her, or at least think they did, and they are painful to read.

I got one today from someone I’ll call Molly, she was a friend of Susan’s for 30 years back in Long Island. I never knew Molly existed, Susan said she wanted to shed her friends, and she caused them some pain.

Molly sent me this message:

“Words cannot even express my feelings right now, I’m not as eloquent as you are at writing, first of all, thank you for what you did for Sue it takes a huge heart to be able to do that, thank you for seeing her till the end. The pain must have been excruciating for you. I was friends with Sue for 30 years, but unfortunately, when she left she never looked back, none of us wanted her to leave, she was unstable and depressed than, and we were fearful of what lay ahead for her.

To make that big of a change at her age and money was always an issue. We also questioned her infatuation with you. But none the less we wished her the best on her journey. I read your blogs, some were spot on others were not, but you only knew her for a short time, and only what she shared with you.

My only wish is that she knew she had real friends here on Long Island; we could of helped her, but we didn’t know.”

I got several messages like that, all from friends who thought they were friends, but who were shut out, left behind, or abandoned by Susan. Is that a friendship? I can’t know.  It wasn’t for me.

Everybody thought they knew her well, but I no longer believe anyone did.

It put a big hole in my heart to learn that one of the reasons Susan came up to the country to live was because she was “infatuated” with me, something I never saw, sensed or felt. Shame on me had I known that I would never have encouraged her to move up her or supported the move in so many ways.

I keep reaching for the better parts of this story, but they elude me.

I did tell Molly that I believe Susan was happy here,  at least for a while. She loved her house, the openness,  the absence of traffic, the country, the beauty, the friendliness of the people, the cows in the pasture, the mist on the mountains.

I believe she loved her work at Bennington Hospital, and many of the people she worked with. I think that was very real, very genuine, no matter what else was or wasn’t. She loved her neighbors, and her house, she loved walking on Main Street, talking with her new friends, driving around taking photos. I don’t believe those were all lies.

I believe Susan very much wanted and needed a change, either here or some other place. I am glad she leaped. It was a brave thing to do, especially for someone who found it hard to walk a few feet.

Those first few months were precious to her, I believe, no matter why or how.

I knew she had become obsessed with me and my life, and I was slow enough to grasp that. I guess I just don’t see myself as worth it.  I thought it was Bedlam Farm that she loved. So I ended up enabling it.

A lot of people saw it, but nobody told me. I loved Susan’s quick humor and gentle nature. We talked easily and often for a good while. Maria and I often had dinner with her, she came to my Bingo games at the Mansion and helped out. I don’t know if she came for them or me.

I did figure it all out eventually, so did Maria, who is a lot smarter than me. I guess it was hard to miss. And that’s hard for me to take.

Susan and I talked openly about how we could not continue our friendship until she dealt with that issue; I cannot bear being revered.

I know she was trying to do that; cancer interrupted that journey. Her therapist told me after she died that she had gotten far and was working hard. That is also a stab to the heart; she just ran out of time.

After our conversation, Susan never spoke with me again either; I became another one of her dropped or lost friends until I learned how sick she was. And that was not from her.

And of course, I doubt I ever knew a fraction about what her other life was like. Susan has lost the capacity to be honest, even with the people closest to her.

So the story just gets worse and worse, it lives on and on and deepens in concentric circles.  Her long -time friends knew a Susan I never met, but I don’t doubt their perceptions or wounded feelings. She was many different things to many different people. That was apparently how she survived.

Her Long Island friends knew her a lot longer than I did, but more and more, I doubt that anyone knew her.

Her brother didn’t. We agreed she never really trusted anyone. So she died as she had lived, quite alone.

Sometimes I think of Susan as a sinking sailboat, fleeing everyone and everything familiar, catching the wind to get as long and far as she should get. Until the first storm.

Whenever I think this story is over, I find it isn’t. But I am moving past it, time to let it go. I see  Sally’s departure as the end of this heartbreaking story.

I wish Sally well, but I’m not sure I want to know a lot of details about how she’s doing or following her life. I didn’t know her well here; I am content to let her go.

There are a lot of people who need help around here, and that’s an excellent place to put my energy. Godspeed Sally, you typify the best and worst of dogs and their lives.

Your loyalty and patience and big heart belong in the annals of dog heroics. You never quit on a human being who needed you desperately; you were her only link to the true heart.

You deserve happiness.

Your willingness to build a new life for yourself, just as I thought Susan was doing, remains an inspirational idea for me. You have shown yourself to be resilient and adaptable.

If you are happy, I don’t need to know or write anything more.

I do not forget my friends.

If you are not happy, Donna and I will put our cavalry caps on and jump on our steeds and charge again to the rescue. I don’t know you well enough to love you, but I wish you peace and happiness.

(Photo by Donna Nicosia)