My Sweet Gracie,
     I received a call and Debi asked if I could possibly come out to the campground and help with a dog transport. We had three dogs coming into our program that our TVGRR member in Alabama had driven in. Although we had been thinking about a little sister for our big boy, Thespis, when I learned your story I just was not sure that you were to be that little girl. You were a breeding bitch. No love, no attention, very little food. I expected to see a dog full of anger and resentful of people altogether.
     Upon arriving at the campground, I saw a beautiful young female, a very robust and healthy male and . . . you, Gracie. You were up on the table having your foot cleaned and bandaged. The large, gaping wound on your foot turned my stomach and brought tears to my eyes. How could they? The fear in your eyes was apparent, but through this you were willing to trust us to make it better. My first thought when I saw your foot was "Something isn't right. That is NOT a lick Granuloma." It was so raw and so open, I knew it was something much, much worse. I wish I hadn't been right.
     Gracie, you were diagnosed a few days later with Fibrosarcoma, a very deadly cancer. Our options at this point were very tough to consider. We could amputate that leg, with no guarantee that the cancer would not come back at the site of the amputation, or we could euthanize you. The only other option we had was to take a "wait and see" approach. This is what we opted to do. Our vet felt very strongly that you could have several years left. He also warned us that with this kind of cancer, nothing is certain except one thing : Fibrosarcoma ALWAYS comes back.
     You went into surgery to remove as much of the cancer as possible from your foot. You came back to my house stitched and bandaged. Now our concern was keeping the stitches intact. They had to be left in longer than normal because cancerous tissue takes longer to heal than normal tissues. I took you to the vet every 3 days to have a bandage change and an inspection of the stitches done. Remember that, Gracie? To say the least, you made a remarkable recovery. Our vet attributed it to good food and lots of love. What do you think?
     Well, you've been in my house since May. Why did I bring you home knowing all of the problems I was facing? Because, Gracie, I stood there and I looked at you so fearful and insecure and I felt sorry for you. But then when you looked up at me and your sweet brown eyes spoke to me, begging me, well dear, that's when my heart cried for you. Gracie, I truly believe all things are meant to be and I knew that you needed me. I knew that we needed each other.
     At our first meeting, you had a coat in horrible shape, were overweight, and were scared of your own shadow. You are now at the weight you should be, and that summer haircut we got you looks quite chic, don't you think? Gracie, I watch you as you hold your head up now, merrily prancing around the house stealing toys from big brother, Thespis (Also TVGRR rescue) and I feel so proud of you. Gracie, you have learned trust. You have learned that human contact does not always hurt—and that fear and shame I saw in your beautiful brown eyes? Well, that's gone now, replaced by light and sparkle. You've gotten quite vocal when it comes to belly rubs and you let me know when I've hit just the right spot, don't you?
     Gracie-Girl, I have learned so much through you. I have watched the miraculous change in you, physically and mentally. You have taught me to make each day count, we never know when it will be our last. I have learned hope, trust and love all through you, and you made me feel like a hero for the first time in my life. I am proud to be your hero, sweetheart.
     Gracie here is my promise to you: I promise that the past 4 years of your life will become hine, warmth and happiness for all of your days. My dear Gracie, you will never win a blue ribbon, but you will always be champion of our hearts. I promise.