Apples was the best Dalmation on the planet.  She was on death row at the pound when she found me browsing around looking for my New Year’s resolution for 2000.  I wanted a dog.  She was so despondent that I almost missed her because she didn’t even come out to greet visitors anymore, partly because she was deaf and couldn’t hear all the excitement of other dogs vying for attention.

She was the roommate of a 200 year old poodle that was deaf, dumb and blind. Poor Apples was only two.  She was taken away from an elderly German bi-polar man who thought he was back in the SS training dogs.  He had gone too far and left her in the yard with a plastic bag over her head as a for of ‘smart" training.  The neighbours saw this, and knowing she was also deaf, called the police on him.  (A Constable told me the whole story later after another long story of how I lost her once and they gave her back to him by mistake which I won’t get into here.)

She had been there 3 months.  It took six months for her to learn that she was safe with me.  I’ll never forget the day she finally licked my hand and sidled up to me for some unconditional ear scratching.

After that we went running on the beach 7 days a week. She also traveled with me whereever I got my next movie.  I’ll never forget how she managed to work her way into the hearts of every single person on the crew.  She had drivers fighting over who would go pick her up at the office for me and take to to set at the end of the day in Montreal.

After 6 years things started to go terribly wrong.  A seizure during a walk led to her terrifying escape from her collar and running off into the season’s worst blizzard.  She ran for 4 hours until someone found her lying in an underground garage, all four pads torn from salty pavement. She had made it over the bridge to downtown several miles from home in her confusion.

That year, after many mnay drugs, and seizures and a tail amputation(immune system failed), ten thousand dollars in bills, and the final MRI which uncovered a massive brain tumour, meant having to make the most brutal decision of my life. I decided that last day that it was time to give her back to God. And boy I am skeptical about God at the best of times, but not that day.   She was a mess.   And so was I. It wasn’t like a kid having brain surgery whom you could explain that it was going to hurt and then you’ll feel better.  And the doctor thought it would only buy her up to another year.  He couldn’t guarantee any quality of life either, or that it wouldn’t grow back or even heal since her immune system seemed to be non-existent at that time too.

It was the only decision I could make, and I did so out of love.  She deserved not to suffer any more. So we had a good bye session for all her closely befriended nurses and doctors at the clinic. They held a "staff meeting" that day on the compassion of euthanasia and everyone was there. And I drove home alone to my empty house. After a couple of mournful days I gathered up her favorite things and took them to the pound where I found her for other dogs to enjoy.

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