On Wednesday, May 25th, 2016, my wife and I learned from our vet that our “child”, Isis, had lymphoma skin cancer. I found Isis 9 years ago, before I met my wife, deep in the middle of nowhere in rural southeast Kansas while out practicing my photography. The beautiful girl came out from behind my car, dirty, ribs showing, a little scar over her left eye and scared. I coaxed her reluctantly into my ECHO, and drove her home, gave her a bath, some clean water, and food. The next day a trip to the vet revealed she had heart worms. Which I treated. I’ve seen her through heart worms, and the time she tore a ligament in her leg from trying to jump continuously up into a tree to get squirrels, and the time she swallowed and choked on a square of raw hide and it stuck in her throat (DONT feed your dogs rawhide!) and I had to find and take her to a 24 hr emergency vet. I’ve always found a way to be there for you and fix you up. But this time, no matter how badly I want to, this is one thing I can’t see you through Isis. I’m sorry. You’ve been my best friend over the years, never leaving my side, following me from room to room never out of sight. You have always been so well behaved. Never getting on furniture. Never tearing things up when I wasn’t home. And like my wife had the most beautiful haunting emotion filled eyes that tried so hard to convey your needs when you looked at us, ears perked up, straining to get us to understand what you wanted to “say”. You accepted my wife and never gave her a hard time, and you loved her with the same non stop licking and love that you gave me even though you were unpredictable with strangers out of fear. You loved her immediately and without question like you knew she belonged here with us. And if anyone will miss you more than I, it will be her Isis. She loved you like a child and always shielded you from my constant yelling to “stop licking!” or “go lay down!”. We start chemotherapy soon, hopefully it works, it’s 50/50, and hopefully it buys a couple or more months of you being healthy and in remission. Long enough for us to prepare for the inevitable, and spoil you, and give you all the love we can and good memories to take with you when the cancer returns and you have to leave us. You will be impossible to replace Isis. You have such personality, emotion and love and a piece of us will die when you finally leave us. So this tiny little corner of the internet is where your memory will reside. We love you Isis.