Our girl is gone.  She left a while back but the pain and loss left me too numb to give her a proper farewell.  This is written a little at a time; we try to say goodbye in a way to explain just  how magical she was.  Barry Manilow's song says "she came and she gave without taking" -- well, that was just partly true.  She came and gave everything she had; her heart, her ever-inventive mind, her soul.  But the part about her not taking -- Mandy didn't take.  She didn't have to because, from the beginning, she KNEW she was entitled to EVERYTHING!  God bless her for that.  She walked in our house at 8 weeks -- immediately jumped on the couch, looked at me and said -- I'm going to do WONDERFUL things for you.  Deserve me!  That set the tone for her whole life.

She started winning in the ring at 4 mos and didn't stop until she retired. Did NOT like to show -- She truly did  it  for us. After going WB/BOW/AOM at the Nationals in 1995, we specialed her (she was an exquisite specimen of  the breed -- she'd get over being unhappy, right?) Wrong. She just got angrier. I didn't get it. But when I went to the handler's rig one Sunday and called her -- she looked at me, turned her back and sat down.  She finally got through to me; she had said "I WANT TO COME HOME" loud enough.  So she did. (In 1999, she won brood bitch at the Nationals with her get.  I  guess showing once every 3-4 years was okay -- but she simply did not like to leave her home, ESPECIALLY without us).  Once we got her message, life was much easier.

In the whelping box, she produced 7 champions (of seven shown) from 2 litters.   God bless her for that, too.  Another  "door-opener" dog.  We met people through her and her get we would have otherwise missed.    More on that later.  She gave us our BIS dog; one of our BISS dogs, consistent group winners -- putting us, as beginner breeders, "on the map."  We were so proud of her. (She was a caring mom but did think "8-10 weeks" was the best time of all. Everyone was gone and that HUGE pen was all hers).

As a loving pet and companion, she was a dose of reality when I got sick: look, mom, I know you aren't supposed to be around dogs, but I'm not "just a dog" and ignoring ME is NOT an option. And I don't mind that you look different but, for heaven's sakes, take stupid baseball cap off!!!  It looks  ridiculous and I won't have any part of it -- (As usual, she was right; bald WAS better --)

Mandy's "thing" was being listened to.  So what if you had to stop what you were doing? What was more important? Chores or what she had to say? Silly question. She told you good stuff.  A great tattletale; nobody got away with ANYTHING while she was "on watch" (Except HER --  it was impossible for me to ever punish that girl).  She discussed her ENTIRE day, every day, in serious detail.  We sat and hugged (undivided attention was a good thing) and I listened.  Hugs were MOST important.  She was fed first; you didn't get the bowl back until she got kisses.  She got bathed first, but no feet trimming or  toe-nails until she got her  kisses and hugs (the head under the armpit-type hug; the oh-my-God-you're touching my feet pathetic hugs -- she SO melted me with  that) --

She learned a lot  from Bandit, especially about about not going in her house -- circle the yard, stand at the back of the property, especially in the rain/wind/darkness/whatever. You, soaked or not being able to navigate the yard because of darkness, calling her -- her, smiling and saying, "Nope, I'm not ready"  or "Why should I?  Its great out here".  To  chase  Mandy was LUDICROUS -- the most ridiculous idea of all.   But she had a weakness -- squat down, open your arms and SQUEAL (yeah, that was a little embarrassing in front of the neighbors) -- "MANDY -- come here, sweety" -- the wide open arms always did the  trick -- that girl simply went nuts for hugs.  So, of course, I'd  just sit there and get wetter or stay in the dark  longer --

She had  such a temper  (what is it  with us and temperamental dogs?).  Whatever did not go her  way (and most everything did) merited both a chewing out AND ignoring/sitting with her back to you until you were back on her good side (her decision alone, and she was not easily influenced).  Its a silly feeling, sitting on the concrete and kowtowing to a dog --I guess I'm crazier than even I knew.)

From the very start, her  life was always adventure.  She was ingenuous and full of awe right up to her last day.  As a pup, she ADORED our magic cat (What other explanation was there? That cat could get from the bed to the chair to the dresser and never touch the ground!!  She  flew!) --  And when we made our move North, she found new friends -- ground squirrels.  They were a little bit faster diggers than she was, but not by much -- at almost 13, she was still goin' after 'em and teaching her fabulous digging techniques to all who might be interested (Roxie being the star pupil).   We thought moving everybody and everything and starting all over would be so traumatic; especially for  the older guys.  We watched carefully.   But the combination of snow, BEAUTIFUL, THICK mud and a new "digging ground" was just the recipe.   The dogs loved it.  Mandy was so much older. We constantly said "be careful" (Right --like she understood-- if she did, she didn't care).  I mean, all these ground squirrels, this BEAUTIFUL, THICK, DEEP mud -- are you kidding? WOW!  She ran with the best of them and remained our Olympic gold-medal digger -- life was good.

Mandy went out  one night before bed and began to collapse.  Tony held her in his arms, gently placed her in a crate, and came to get me.  I ran as fast as I could; it was so dark.  We reached in, told her how much we loved her, touched  her, held on to her -- all the things one does while sobbing like a baby with words that are completely unintelligible.   My heart shattered in a million pieces.  She looked at me -- could she see or hear?  Did she know "mom" was there? I'd always told her I'd never let her go.  Did she know the love that told her that was, in fact, strong enough to release her now that it was time?  Despite the "I'm so sorry, Mom, but I have to leave you; I just can't stay any longer" look in her eyes, it was okay.  She did not HAVE to stay.  It was so absolutely important to let her know that. Part of our good-bye to a soul that held so much of our hearts for so long. (Important to who? Me?  SHE, after all, was the issue). I clung to her but she was so still.  We wept for days.  Didn't sleep well that  first week -- I kept  seeing her --  We miss her SO much.

Mandy left a huge hole.  She was a soul-mate -- silly as it is to anyone besides a dog person.  We could anticipate each other -- how weird is that?  When the  Rajun Cajun was stolen, I saw Tony's pain. How  he suffered over losing his boy.  I would always love my dogs, but bond like that?  No way -- then the little red couch jumper arrived.  I was a  goner from that minute and for the next 12 1/2 years. I often wondered how could one bounce back (read: not just quit from hurting that badly) -- I guess I now know.   Watching her beautiful  grandkids, Spenser, Ember, Kezia, Hailey (Spenser  and Hailey  are SO HER) -- Its true that a legacy remains -- If it wasn't so damn painful to get there.

Wonderful people came into our lives, directly as a result of her -- The Bauers, the Hartels.  I bet she immediately looked for, and found, Uncle Dick (yes, she'll show for him at the great "dog show in the sky"!) -- her "honey," Walkey-Talkey.  She's introduced them to her pals that they hadn't  met before -- What a rowdy group that will be! "She is such a beautiful  bitch" is a line that opened amazing conversations and led us down a charmed path.

Its always easier to think of ones dogs as young and strong.  Mandy was vibrant and beautiful to her last day, with the aura held by the animal who steals your heart.  The very last day.  In life, we all know reality checks are a necessity.  And we know that losing our  guys will devastate, each for different reasons.   As I've read recently and plagerize [sp] here, God only "takes the best."   We will always appreciate the Wortmanns sending her to us for what turned out be a fabulous 12 1/2 years -- we were blessed every day she was here.

Mandy, you were there for us in the good times and were our healer during the rough times.  The words used here are only adjectives cannot, in any way, express the  value of your  life and your contribution to Maskarade.  We hug the guys down here and explain why their best friend has left, and you hug the guys up there -- greet 'em large and run and laugh as only you can.  You  are in a place as beautiful as you are --  Go  for it, girl, have a great time.  Dig till you're tired -- we love you and you  are forever missed.