Goodbye, dear friend.

Shana died today. I thought you might want to know.

It's been a very difficult day - so many ups and downs. Trying to keep it together so I could teach, yet when the 3:15 bell rang and the door closed on the last student, the floods came. What a wonderful friend she was.

One could never know how much a part of your family a pet can become, unless one's experienced it for themselves. Shana was part of my life for thirteen years. Thirteen years...she saw so much, experienced the joy, the sadness, the changes, the losses and the gains, the growing up. Through it all, she was there with me. Dad even joked that he would dress her up in a tuxedo (despite her being a girl-dog) and have her walk down the aisle at my wedding.

She was my brother's dog, but yet she never really was. I think all of us secretly claimed her. She was old enough to come and live with us the day I turned sixteen. It was Grandma's sneaky idea to get us a pet. I remember going to pick Shana up from her family and bringing her back in the car. She was nervous and shaking, as I'm pretty sure it was her first car ride as a tiny puppy. We almost loved her to death.

We had so many experiences with that dog. We'd never had one before, so we did some things a little wrong. Like giving her a bath almost every day until someone told us it'd dry her skin out. She got real used to baths though....she'd stand perfectly still in the bathtub as you shampooed her, conditioned her, and rinsed her off. As soon as you'd let her out of the tub, though, she'd run like a mad-dog all over the house, pushing her head into whatever carpet was nearby and propelling herself forward with her hind legs. She'd pause only to shake her head like crazy and start running again. She's probably the only dog I know who would also sit through being blow-dried and hand brushed. Like I said, we didn't know dogs were any different.

One time, I thought I'd try dyeing her green with food colouring while my parents were napping. She didn't mind. In fact, she liked dressing up. One time she ate my mom's lipstick, another time we put mascara on her impossibly long eye-lashes. Maybe we were bad pet owners, but she didn't mind and we didn't know better.

I knew Shana wasn't the smartest dog on the block, but I made it my mission to teach the tricks I thought she should know: sit, stay, roll over, shake, and "BANG!" (play dead). She also knew what it meant to speak, and speak louder, or whisper. I have to laugh when I think that she learned all these tricks because I trained her by rewarding her with Glossettes. Again, bad, ignorant dog lover I was! Maybe that's where she got her sweet tooth from. One time we came home from church to find that she had sniffed out a box of those Belgian Seashell chocolates and somehow undone the wrapper and eaten the entire box. Her whole face was covered in chocolate. What a sight!

Shana loved to go for walks with my dad. He'd take her along the paths behind Jesse Lake and let her offleash. No moving creature was safe from her curiosity!! Squirrels received the utmost attention, even after they'd scurried up a tree. Shana had the patience of Job, and would sit at the bottom of the tree, head up, eyes trained on the critter and not move until she was practically dragged away.

You could call her anything you wanted. From Banana, to Nana, from Will, to Zero and just plain "Shana!!!!!!" exclaimed with as many exclamation marks, she would come running with tail wagging, because she knew.

Pretty much everyone I know knew Shana. She was the friendliest dog you could ever meet. Since my mom teaches piano from the house, she had quite a wide social circle. Even students I teach now in school ask me about Shana. All of my old roommates (and my current, permanent roommate!) have known Shana. I'd even get a tad bit jealous when I'd come home from University for a weekend and she'd go right to Natasha, or Rosy. She even sniffed out the boys I'd bring home just for her approval....but I know she approved of The Farmer the most! She'd wait at the top of the stairs, little tail a-waggin' at the sound of his diesel truck. She loved everyone and everyone loved her.

The last couple of years have been difficult. In many ways, it has been like she was already gone. She lost her sight, her hearing, and was succumbing to what the vet described as canine diabetes. We knew what the only option should be, yet some of us were in denial, still clinging to the days of when we'd pull into the driveway and see her little nose poking through the blinds, waiting for us. I knew she was gone, yet the rare times she'd respond with a tail wag when she smelled my hand gave me the hope that somewhere in that shell of a dog was the gentle, fun, energetic dog I love.

I don't want to remember Shana as the dying dog that she was. I want to remember all that she has been, all that she gave to me and so many others. I want to remember the tears I cried into her fur, the way she would lick my hand when I was sad, how she would do anything for a piece of cheese, and how she would spin out on the laminate floor trying to get to me when I got home. I want to remember the dog who was a part of my life and a part of my heart, and always will be. Shana-Banana, I hope dogs go to heaven, but if not, please know that I loved you with my whole heart and was so blessed that God gave you to me.

I love you 'nana.

Shana Banana

(1995 - 2008)