Viewpoint: Sunset Emma Lulu 2007-2020

It is not a happy place at our home this week. Emma, the Golden Retriever that has brightened our lives for 12 and a half years, died of cancer.

My son, Keegan, and I came home from a wrestling tournament in December of 2007 and my wife, Lori, had driven to Salida to meet a breeder from Grand Junction. Out of seven littermates, there was only one obvious choice for Lori. They had bonded in that several hour drive and Emma became Lori’s dog. 

As dogs have a way of doing, Emma slowly and steadily integrated herself into our lives. She slept beside our bed, went hiking with us, and traveled in the car with us. 

Many of you probably met Emma, as she spent Monday through Thursday beside Lori's desk. Patiently waiting if we got too busy to notice her. 

On the rare occasions that Lori left her behind, Emma made a blanket of any piece of Lori's clothing left laying around. And Lori coined a new term for the sight of her beloved pet curled up asleep: 'a golden puddle'. 

Emma loved all of us and she was happy to participate in all kinds of events with every family member, but whenever Lori came into the room, or the yard, or got in the car Emma knew it.

Her favorite thing to do was fetch: balls, rocks, sticks, anything. And over the years she trained lots of people to throw things for her so she could fetch them.

Speaking of sticks. When Emma was very young, she got one lodged in her throat and had to have it removed. She had a knee that had to be surgically repaired later in life, and eventually a hysterectomy. 

She was a purebred but never had puppies, although we tried to make that happen. Lori's dream of litters of Golden Retriever puppies was not meant to be. So, we loved Emma even more. 

She taught us to change the way we did lots of things. Like how we gardened. We soon learned that tomatoes and strawberries needed to be planted outside her reach. She would eat them long before we could get to them. 

As all of us got older, Emma got an opportunity to train four grandchildren to throw sticks, and rocks, and balls for her. Since she was older she appreciated the fact that the little creatures who meant so much to her owner couldn’t throw things very far.

One of our final memories of Emma was only a few weeks ago when she was “training” Duke, age two, how to throw a ball for her.

About a year ago Dr. Churan, who seemed to love Emma as much as we did, found a tumor in a mammary gland that was cancerous. At the ripe old age of 12 we didn’t choose to do anything about it. He told us to watch it and let him know of any changes. It never changed size. I know because it was my job to keep track of it. Apparently, though, it spread to her lungs. 

Almost overnight she had trouble breathing. We wanted to think she was panting because it was so hot, and Lori started keeping her wet and cool. But that wasn’t why. 

The night before we decided to end her suffering, she stood up almost all night because when she laid down it compressed her lungs. She and Lori spent most of the night together, just as they had when she was a new puppy. Emma wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.