We are broken-hearted to announce that our phenomenal Lucy, "The" Australian Terrier, has passed. She bravely battled against rectum adenocarcinoma for more than a year, but she lost the fight, cancer winning yet another war. She died at 12 years 7 months of age.

We were privileged to have had the additional 13-months with her after her initial diagnosis. During this time she again aided one of our Dams in raising a litter of Irish Wolfhounds, her role as Queen critical. Over more than a decade, Lucy imprinted on our wolfhound puppies from birth, and she watched over them, teaching them about respectful behavior towards smaller dogs. She drilled them on "Pack Respect," and having arrived at 13-weeks of age; I am firm in the belief that she deemed herself an Irish Wolfhound, merely in a small 18-pound package. Indeed, her schooling of puppies was invaluable, and frankly, I do not know what we would have done without her over these 12.5 years. Lucy could stop even the most intrepid wolfhound in their tracks. Pity the poor, unknowing or foolish hound that would pause to give her a sideways glance or approach her food as it was met with a snarl full of amazingly white, huge dentition and a brief feint at the hound's nose. She never bit nor bullied, but always behaved in a dignified manner. Simply, she earned her respect. Lucy was very intuitive and intelligent; she was proactive -- not waiting for a wolfhound to make a silly mistake, and she disciplined accordingly. A number of our young Wolfhounds were devoted to her. While out and about on the property -- where she went, they followed. In fact, she always accompanied a Wolfhound whenever they had to go to a veterinarian appointment because she had a calming affect on them, especially for Danny who had to go for weekly Laser Therapy and Chiropractor visits.

Lucy was a very popular ambassador to the breed. Everyone who met her was taken with her, even hard-bitten, gruff contractors who professed to not like little dogs, but that they would make an exception for her. Several of them added they would take her if I would allow! Her winning over even the toughest critics of small dogs became so frequent that I used to joke that I would not be surprised if she were kidnapped, without any ransom demand.

Lucy also had fans at the Scottish Deerhound National Specialties. Her striking good looks with red coat including the breed characteristics mane and topknot caught everyone's eye but even more were her mannerisms. She believed herself to be entitled and would join me, and her biggest devotee, Judy Mazurkiewicz, at the Deerhound’s catered outdoor luncheons residing on her very own chair at the table. Deerhound spectators and exhibitors alike recognized me as Lucy's owner and always queried me as to her whereabouts.

We still laugh to this day about the time when Judy and I were seated ringside with Lucy on my lap as we watched the judging. An exhibitor came and sat behind us accompanied by their yearling Deerhound who then had the unfortunate occasion of looking Lucy in the eye. Lucy regarded this as an infraction and instantly felt the need to impress upon this "whippersnapper" that you never make eye contact with the Queen. His unknowing glance inspired Lucy to reprimand the Deerhound with a quiet scolding of full dentition at which point the exhibitor immediately told Lucy, "You be nice!" Most memorable though was the change in the Deerhound's expression as he quickly saw the error of his ways and promptly looked away in compliance with her instructions. As for the duration of his stay, he did not repeat his mistake.

Her reprimand, however, was commonplace for Lucy as she lived with a pack of Irish Wolfhounds and she reigned with impunity. Not that our Wolfhounds were or are timid, not by the farthest stretch of the imagination. If you are familiar with my bloodlines, they are well-bred and true-to-nature Wolfhounds with a fully developed instinctual prey drive. Simply, she earned her stature and respect without ever inflicting pain on another or receiving it herself.

On the day she passed at our home, there occurred a remarkable and inexplicable event. After we sedated Lucy and confirmed that she virtually was comatose, the Veterinarian administered the pentobarbital in her vein as we stroked and spoke softly to her, expecting her to pass very quickly as she was very ill.

What happened next was extraordinary, that which I can only ascribe to her tenacity and stoicism. Though Lucy was fully sedated and feeling no pain, her little heart refused to stop. Instead of expiring, her heart still beat even though she had been given dosage for a 30-pound dog, and she was 17 pounds. After an appropriate time, the Veterinarian was forced to inject a second dose of pentobarbital. The Veterinarian, experienced in both large and small animals over many decades, stated that rarely did he ever have to administer a second dose of euthanasia drug with one notable exception, that being a feral, 20-year old barn cat that hated him. We spoke to and stroked Lucy all the while urging her to go, yet the beating of her little heart continued. Her chest softly raised and lowered continuously as we regularly monitored her heart. We waited. We consoled her telling her it was alright to leave and that it was time to let go. We reminded her of all the earlier Wolfhounds that she knew and was fond of and that they were waiting for her. But she still would not leave us. At this point, the Veterinarian stated, without precedent, that he had to administer a third dosage on a dog. He informed us about the one time he ever had to deliver a third injection, and that was on a horse who refused to succumb. A short time after the third and final extraordinary dose did Lucy finally pass on. She surrendered but only doing so on her terms. She was an exceptional Terrier.

I feel I will be lost without her as she was my constant companion in every part of my daily life. She was with me nearly every moment of the day and night; running errands, traveling for family excursions, attending numerous dog shows, and the like. Where I went -- she went. She was a marvelous creature, and even more, an amazing and beloved, devoted friend of which I will never see the like again.