When you reach a certain age, or, perhaps, a certain level of awareness, you realize that every day lived is a lesson. A week ago I sat down to write this column tearful and emotional as I began the story of my good dog Martha. It was, at the time, my way of coping, knowing that Martha might be gone before the column was even published.
Martha, Josie and me after a walk on the jetty in Brookings in 2004.
Martha was found in the fall of 2001 roaming Sporthaven Beach in Brookings with a dislocated hip. She eluded her would-be captors for about two weeks. It was a wet November, fraught with thunderstorms. She apparently subsisted on offerings from tourists and scraps from garbage cans before a Humane Society volunteer baited her with treats and was able to catch her.
Martha was taken to a vet who suggested she be put down. Thankfully, she was taken to another vet who pulled her right hip back into place.