Freedom embodied the character of her heritage as a working bred Border Collie.  At just under 4 weeks old, she was a spunky, happy, lively, loving, kind and curious little puppy.  She was destined for greatness if not as a working dog, as a cherished member of a loving family for whom she would forever change their perspective of the words devotion, loyalty and love.

On Monday, November 29^th, Freedom was ill.  She did not come racing to visit with me when I arrived with her meal – something that all the puppies in the litter had begun to do.  Four week old puppies are like little orbs of pure, unadulterated joy.  There truly is nothing more precious, more uplifting, more heart-warming than the privilege of spending a few moments with their little souls.   I had recently said to a good friend, who has been suffering with health problems, that if I could package up the feeling that I get when I am with the puppies, it would surely cure all her ills. 

I raced Freedom to my veterinarian.   He struggled to diagnose the cause of her condition.  He asked if she had been dropped or fallen.  Definitely not, I replied.  She did not have signs of abdominal swelling, but he thought her symptoms might be consistent with internal damage.   He treated her for shock.  He gave her fluids and antibiotics.  He packaged up huge syringes with fluids and tiny syringes of antibiotics which I was to administer at set intervals.  When I asked about her prognosis I didn’t actually hear his words because his eyes said it all.   I could tell he was not hopeful.