From her Rockridge home on Monday February 15, 2010, Savvy set off for Rainbow Bridge with the grateful help of Dr Anthony Smith.
She brought smiles to all that met her
Upon hearing of the sad news, our good friend Richard Shoemaker shared with us a special writing that helped him through his similar experiences which we too would like to share.
The following is borrowed and paraphrased from Eugene O'Neill's "Last Will and Testament of "Silverdene Emblem O'Neill", 1940.
"LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
OF SAUVIGNON JOHNSON"
I, Sauvignon Johnson, (familiarly known to my family, friends and acquaintances as Savvy) because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Guardians, Beth, Whitney and Savannah. They will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in their loneliness, they will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask them then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.
I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not.
There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me, to Beth, Whitney and Savannah, whom I know will mourn me most, to Cabby, Millie, Hunt and Mary who have been so good to me, to the staff of Every Dog Has It's Day Care, Dr Teri McGinnis and all at Albany VCA, Pauli and - But if I should list all those who have loved me it would force my Guardians to write a book.
Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.
I ask my Guardians to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain.
Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life, (and this I owe to their love and care for me) now that I have become weak from the cancer that we thought I had dodged and the arthritis that developed over the years, I no longer have the energy to go on.
It is time I said goodbye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die.
Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows?
I would like to believe with those of my fellow Golden Retrievers who are devout optimists, that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered, where all the day one dillies and dallies with a playful multitude of hounds, beautifully combed; where squirrels that run fast and lakes that are cool and prestine; where each blissful hour is a mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, Guardians.
I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best.
One last request I earnestly make to others that may read this. I have heard others say, "When my dog dies I must never have another dog. I love her so much I could never love another one." Now I would ask them, for love of their dog, to have another.
It would be a poor tribute to our memories never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had a dog in the family, now one cannot live without a dog!
I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good, (and one cat, Jack, the tabby I had permitted to share the living room rug during the evenings, whose affection I had tolerated in a kindly spirit, and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a trifle).
Some dogs, of course, are better than others. Golden Retrievers, naturally, as everyone knows, are best. So I am pleased Cabby is my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Guardians must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green.
To him I bequeath my floating Kong, my Cal bandana and jersey, purchased in 2002 at the ASUC book store (I wish him better luck in his anticipation of a Golden Bear Rose Bowl appearance and victory). He can never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the Cal campus, the streets of Berkeley, and the trails of the East Bay Regional Parks (my favorite, of course being Tilden with its Lake Anza and Steam Train) all eyes fixed on me, in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog.
Here at home, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume, come closer to squirrels than I have been able in recent years. And, for all his faults, I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.
One last word of farewell, Dear Whitney, Beth and Savannah. Whenever you visit the place of my ashes, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: "Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved."
No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of Death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.
