G'nite, Krista puppy

Dogs don't last long enough. If I had one complaint that I could take up with the big guy upstairs about the operating system he installed down here, that would be it.
Dogs die too soon and it's a bug that should be fixed. I know, there are bigger things to take up with God, especially given recent headlines. But most everything else seems to have a "master plan." At least, that's what I've been lead to believe. But nobody seems to have an answer as to why Rover's mortality rate seems to be directly opposite to how awesome the dog was to begin with.
If I had this little site a few years ago, a post very similar to this would have probably existed, but with much more anger. The day I took our bulldog Barney to the vet to be put down was a day I'd just as soon forget. But I didn't have this site to rant and rave about it back then and it's probably just as well, emotions that cut that close don't belong on blogs anyway. Silly soliloquies about Cubs, bad politics and new haircuts do. And, maybe, the occasional passing of a freinds dog.
Last night I learned that a friends dog had gone. She was getting old and suffering the usual old-doggie problems, and even her "mom" Terri found it hard to deny her days were numbered. Krista, a Lab-something or other mix was rescued by Terri years ago from the road. The bond was instantanious and Krista became Terri's first "baby."
And damnit, she was a great dog. "Krista-puppy" was all I ever called her, cupping her doggy mug in my hands and kissing her snoot. That was my greeting for her, and she always seemed to approach me for it when we visited. Once she got it, she was good, and off she went to do her thing, which was usually accepting attention and similar greeting from everyone else.
She had a soulful, passive mojo about her. I liked that. I liked her presence, it was calming. And I liked the way she was loved by her owners. Early on, the level of devotion was made unmistakable when Krista was attacked by another dog. It would have been bad had it not been for Mark, her new "dad",who ran to the attacking dog and folded it in half with one kick. The other dog lived and it's owners got an earful. Krista had gone from homeless, possibly abused to loved, really loved, and completely protected. Over the years she returned the love she got time and time again. She saw Terri and Mark get married. She welcomed 2 beautiful "siblings" and played with kids all over the neighborhood. She was a part of every function and gathering that came her way.
When it was her time to go, it was her turn to find Terri. She probably couldn't do this alone, she couldn't just "go" without saying goodbye. She collapsed at Terri's feet from a stroke, and was put down the next day.
Terri was with her all night, and I imagine they both remembered every moment they had together.
Dogs don't last long enough. Maybe they aren't supposed to. In thier own way and in thier own time they help us figure out what to do with what time we have. They have us beat in that respect. They come into our lives, do what needs to be done, and then go. We get the memories. It's a pretty great gift, and who am I to question God.