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Date Posted: Sun, 03/ 9/03 12:10pm
Author: steve ( via sunny )
Subject: Copper Rain ..... R.I.P.

Hi folks,
Don't know if you've seen this yet ....

Sooo sorry, Steve :o((
prayers and blessings for you and your family,
she was a VERY good dog ....

sunny

=============================
http://www.imdiversity.com/article_detail.asp?Article_ID=15420

Copper Rain
Tale of a Dog

by Steve Russell, NAV Contributor
--------------------------------------------
[March 8, 2003]


In the beginning

We found Copper Rain, or she found us, at an outdoor sculpture exhibition in Liberty Hill, Texas in the spring of 1989. My wife, Donna, had recently been released from the hospital after flatlining for 13 minutes during an abortive back operation. The cardiac arrest had almost killed her and, while her back was still hurting, she was enjoying being alive.

We has just seen a show on public TV about sculptures that had been been commissioned for the Bicentennial being found stored and forgotten, refurbished, and returned to public display. So we loaded up son Paul, then 13 and permanently attached to his football, to drive from our home in Austin to Liberty Hill on a sunny weekend.

There was a small puppy with a bleeding wound on top of her head guarding the exhibit. She was a rich coppery brown with enough black and white accents to give her a very distinctive face. She followed us everywhere. But, every time a car passed this rural school she growled and tried to chase it, presenting a theory about the provenience of the wound on her head. She tried to fetch Paul's football but her tiny mouth was not up to the task. At one point she managed to tangle in Donna's legs causing her to fall. This frightened me more than it did Donna.

We saw all the sculptures and it was time to leave. The puppy with the blood on her head was still there, but there were no people. We could see only one house far in the distance. I drove there, found big dogs chained in the yard but nobody home.

What to do? The dog backed off and sat on a plaque in front of one of the sculptures while we discussed it. Paul wanted to take her. I asked Donna how she felt about the spill from tripping over the dog. "She's just a puppy and she has no car sense," said Donna. "If we leave her, she's dead."

When I went to pick up the new four-legged member of our family, I saw the name on the plaque: "Copper Rain." And that was the name I gave the vet when we took her in to have puppy shots and the wound examined.

"Where'd you get the Corgi?," asked the vet.

"What's a Corgi?"

The vet reminded me of the recent movie. "The Accidental Tourist" and delivered himself of a rant about "dog fads" touched off by movies and "puppy farms" responding to those fads. He told me that the movie dog was a Pembroke and Copper Rain was a Cardigan, and not a perfect one at that. This meant she had short hair and a tail.

At that point, her blood did not matter.

Too small to fetch footballs, she fetched tennis balls very well. She could be jealous of her space, but she was completely tolerant of children and, later, grandchildren. I learned later that Copper Rain is also the name of a beautiful flower that can be seen here. Somebody even named a horse, although not a breed of horses, Copper Rain.

Daughter Mary grew up and left home. When Donna and I went out of town, Mary would take care of Copper, and that of course was fine with Copper. I lost a hundred pounds and took up serious running. I trained on the cinder trail around Town Lake in Austin, Copper straining on the leash ahead of me. Once she overheated and I tossed her in the water, which did not strain her good nature.

A bad time

May 4, 1994, the worst night of my life...Donna left me during a stroke after another in a string of hospitalizations. The EMT people took her away with a gentle and transparent lie that I could follow to the emergency room to find out what would happen. I had watched it happen. I collapsed against the wall near the bloodstain on the carpet where the EMTs had been working on Donna, howling in immobile anguish. Copper's tongue on my cheek brought me back to the world enough to call Mary, call the rest of the family, shower and walk though the motions at the hospital, do what had to be done.

I went though over a month of walking catatonia. One of my GI buddies came to my home and became my keeper, doing what had to be done. Much later, I said something to my ex-law partner about not remembering how I had gotten to the funeral home. She had taken me. I was walking dead, and I was severely neglecting the pets.

Renewal

At some point, Mary took charge of the pet situation, doing what had to be done. The cats, Bleu and Scarlett, and one of the dogs, Pete, would go live with Mary and her husband Bruce. The two older dogs, Copper and Nelson, would live with me. I would pay attention to them. The dogs, of course, never blamed me for neglecting them.

Copper Rain, Oldtimer

Son Paul joined the Marine Corps, came back ramrod straight with a body hard as a rock and an impassive face that melted into smiles when Copper came running to lick his hand.

To my surprise, I remarried and my family grew by two kids, one grown and one almost grown, as well as a pair of Afghan Hounds, Jazz and Odessa.

Donna had been so happy when I decided to quit being a judge. Tracy only saw the up side: respect and good money, but she knew the decision had been made when she married me. She knew she was getting a teacher, less respect and less money.

We moved our canine children from Austin to Spring Branch and then San Antonio, Texas. We played with them a lot in those days. During one swim, I almost lost Copper over the dam at Blanco State Park. We walked them around Woodlawn Lake in San Antonio, and took some pride in the fact that our animals got better care than many pets on the streets of San Antonio, let alone the strays.

The eldest dog, Copper, tore a ligament. We agonized over whether to get the surgery. It was very expensive and she was very old. We decided not to, and I believe we were correct.

I was recruited away from the University of Texas at San Antonio to Indiana University in Bloomington. We had to rent two vehicles: a truck for our stuff and an air-conditioned van for the animals. The dogs took to the cooler temperatures, but Copper tore another ligament. This time, we opted for the surgery, because otherwise she would have completely lost the use of one hind leg, putting way too much stress on the other one. That, too, turned out to be a correct decision. It bought her a year of pleasant life patrolling her new environs.

Trouble for Copper Rain

Last Christmas Eve, Copper Rain was diagnosed with Cushing's Disease. The vet gave her three to six months. I did the research. Copper was already at the end of a normal Corgi lifespan. The vet said the cause of the disease was adrenal tumors, which they might be able to remove at the Purdue University Vet School. My research told me that the survival rate among all dogs having that surgery was about two thirds. Copper was elderly. Purdue is on the other side of Indiana. If she died, she would die among strangers, terrified.

I opted for the least dangerous treatment, the one approved in Great Britain but not in the U.S., trilostane. The Cushing's symptoms eased up. She had weakness in her hind legs, but she managed to get around, even up and down stairs. She fell now and then, but had no pain. Her beautiful coat had turned to white sidewalls when we got an ultrasound as part of the diagnosis. Her muzzle had long turned gray. She was less mobile, but still a happy dog.

It is time

Last week, I had an important business trip long scheduled to Boston. The afternoon before, Copper's hind legs gave out entirely. I carried her outside to do her business and then made her a bed next to mine. During the night, she started crying. I put my hand on her head and she quit. After this happened a couple of times, I got up and gave her half of a pain pill prescribed for Jazz, our large male Afghan — probably an overdose for Copper's size.

When that did not stop the pain, I remembered how much she hates to mess herself and thought maybe she needed to go outside. I picked her up and took her outside and found that she had also lost the use of her front legs.

When I brought her inside, I took down the other half of Jazz's pain pill. I thought for a moment that it could kill her. She cried again and I didn't care. After I gave her that, she slept, although I did not.

I had to get on an airplane the next morning, with or without sleep. I carried Copper outside, which caused her pain.

I fed her some meat. I told her she was a good dog. I gave her some more of Jazz's pain medication. I apologized to her for throwing her in the lake and almost losing her over the dam. I told her again she was a good dog.

We arranged for the vet to make a house call. Bloomington is a small town, and we can do that. Tracy took me to the plane so I could do what had to be done to be the breadwinner. I told Tracy that I loved her and I knew she loved Copper. She would have to do what had to be done unless the vet could see something we were not seeing. I told Tracy I could not do grief and do what I had to do in Boston at the same time, so I did not want to talk about Copper by telephone.

Finally, I gave Copper Rain a dog biscuit and told her once more she was a good dog. She licked my hand.

She was A Good Dog

My trip to Boston was very successful. I drank alcohol every night — highly unusual behavior. Tracy met me at the airport.

"Copper?"

"You knew."

"Yes, I guess I did."

Copper Rain's ashes will come home this week. She was A Good Dog.


-------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------

Steve Russell is currently Associate Professor of Criminal Justice, Indiana University, Bloomington, and sits as a visiting judge after retiring from a 17 year career on the Bench. He has spoken and published extensively about law and Indian rights. Steve is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma and a past President of the Texas Indian Bar Association.

IMDiversity.com is committed to presenting diverse points of view. However, the viewpoint expressed in this article is the opinion of the author and is not necessarily the viewpoint of the owners or employees at IMD.

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