Our dog Mitzi died on August 1, 2025.
I couldn’t write about it then because it was too painful. Let me say from the outset that nothing I write here will be as beautiful as Peter Greene’s farewell to his beloved dog two years ago.
But I need to tell you about our wonderful girl.
Mary and I got Mitzi in 2013 when she was three months old. She was already 30 pounds and growing fast. She eventually reached 100 pounds.
She was born in 2012. She was a mutt. She came from a shelter in Hayward, California. When I asked the rescuer who found her what her breed was, she said: “Think of it this way. Her mother was a mutt. Her father was a mutt. They met once.” When we tested her DNA, we learned she was a mix of German Shepherd, Siberian Husky, Alaskan Malamute, and lots of others. We liked to say her eyelashes were Chihuahua.
A sweeter dog never lived. Little dogs often barked at her, and she ignored them. She was a gentle giant. She pulled me over a couple of times because she was frightened and took off like a bullet. The first time, I was walking her to the groomer, and when she saw his shop, she yanked me over trying to escape. The second time, we were taking a walk after dinner on July 3, and she heard a firecracker; she started running home and I fell over, determined not to lose control of her leash.
Her greatest fear was the sound of firecrackers and thunder. July 4 and New Year’s Eve were times of terror for this big girl. In her last years, I finally cracked the problem by taking Mitzi into a bathroom with no windows, closing the door, and playing loud music on my cellphone. It worked like a charm. She learned to appreciate Hank Williams.
Mitzi loved everyone and everyone loved Mitzi. Except for our cat, Dandelion, who was about the same age as Mitzi but weighed 15 pounds. Mitzi loved to chase Dandy but she never caught him. Never. He lived in constant fear, although once in a blue moon he would smack her, and she would back off.
Mitzi developed benign tumors in 2021 and 2022. They were surgically removed from her stomach. And one was cut off her eyelid.
Then in 2023, Mitzi developed a malignant tumor in one of her haunches. More surgery, followed by a referral to an oncologist. She took a pill every day, and a year later, in June 2024, the oncologist declared her cancer free.
One year without cancer, then it returned as a trigeminal nerve sheath tumor, a malignant, inoperable tumor in her head.
There was nothing we could do but wait. Kiss her and hug her a lot. Her favorite activity was sitting by the water and watching the boats, watching the water.
At 2 am on August 1, she woke us, as she was gasping for air. We took turns holding her, giving her ice chips. I called the vet when they opened at 8 and asked him to come to our place as soon as possible. She died at 9 am, in Mary’s arms. The vet arrived 15 minutes later.
We think of her very often. We miss her. Dogs are wonderful animals who give us unconditional love.
Here are some pictures of our girl:




This beautiful soul was an integral part of our lives for a dozen years. I can’t let this year end without paying tribute to her. I hope all of you experience a Mitzi in your lives.


Beautiful tribute to a lovely girl! Our furry children are special.
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She was a beauty. So sorry for your loss. It is so difficult to lose our furry family members! They bring so much unconditional pleasure to our lives.
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Yes!!
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Happy New Year to you and Mary! Wishing you all the best in 2026!
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A beautiful soul indeed, and, despite the disclaimer vis-à-vis Peter Greene, a beautiful testimonial. When it comes to honoring and preserving the memory of departed doggies, Cervantes (or his narrator) comes to mind: “All comparisons are odious.”
Although you lost Mitzi this year, you are forever blessed by having been a Mitzi gainer.
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a gentle giant, that will stay in your hearts, forever, because of the lessons she’d taught you, about life and love.
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As usual, your blog suggests things to think about. Your beautiful Mitzi story reminded me of the only time I ever had to have a dog put down. In many ways, I reacted more to losing that dog than to the loss of my own father, whom I loved dearly. It got me to wondering. Why do we love our pets so much?
Jared Diamond wrote in Gun, Germs, and Steel that he did not know of a culture, past or present, that did not keep pets. Why is this such a human thing? I have thought about this for years without coming to many conclusions, but there is one that is inescapable. People can love their pets unconditionally, whereas imparting affection in the same way toward human beings is difficult. We put our friends on a guilt trip, but not our dog. How can he help it, he’s a dog. This phenomenon leads us to ascribe to our pets a sort of natural goodness. Like Rousseau, who saw man in his natural state as good and pure, we see our pets as naturally good, a sort of anti-Calvinist being naturally rising from some inner light. All dogs go to heaven, right?
Perhaps there are other reasons. Maybe I love our Susie so much because she lies down on my calves and puts her furry head near my foot.
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Yes, all dogs go to heaven, and there are no humans in Doggy Heaven to spoil their fun. “Good dog” is redundant.
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No, Bill, I’m planning to reunite with all the dogs and cats I’ve known and loved when I cross “the Rainbow Bridge.” Not so much some of the humans I’ve known.
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Oh! I’m so sorry Diane.
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Good morning Diane,
Beautiful pictures. I’m sorry for your loss.
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We and our black Lab, Laddie, send deepest sympathy.
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Thank you! Give Laddie an extra hug.
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Diane, so sorry to hear about the loss of your dear beloved family member.
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