So we get to the front gate of the kennel and Anne Kellerman, the owner, led us through. Immediately a herd (of perhaps 6) little fur balls come running our way with one creamy white, slightly larger one just as happy, just as part of the gang. We had so much fun picking up and playing with them all and the slightly larger one just seemed to be especially sweet. (I bet you've already figured this out, haven't you?)
So we talked to Anne, who was one of the most respected breeders of Tibetan Terriers, we later found out, and when she told us the price of the puppies, we knew for certain they were out of our price range. Then she added, "But we really want to find a home for this little one," and she gestured to the sweet larger one.
"How much are you asking for her?" we asked.
"Oh, we couldn't ask anything for her. We think she's deaf." Well! After a long talk about my suitability as an owner of a special needs dog and signing papers that I'd agree to have her spayed, we were driving back to San Francisco with a Tibetan Terrier puppy!
That poor baby being passed over due to her disability that she was blissfully oblivious to...
And as time passed, her deafness was a real non-issue. She was a real velcro dog who was super smart. She was practically perfect. I started calling her Saint Sylph. When the kids were born, she took to them very easily even though she had spent most of her life without kids.
When it became clear that Sylph was dying a week or so into December, I told my then 5 year old daughter that she wouldn't be with us much longer. Now, as far as Claudia was concerned, Sylph was an old dog that didn't do much more than sleep on the heating grates, but she knew that I loved her so she said, trying to comfort me, "Oh! It'll be her first dead Christmas!"
You were a very special girl, my darling Sylph. Until we meet again.
