The Stanford Inn by the Sea - Eco-Lodge & Retreat Center

Last Sunday, Gypsy could not get up without help. We had no idea what had happened. An hour before he was prancing in the lobby following Joe on a trip outside. I have to tell you that we were frightened - thinking that something horrible was happening - that the cancer was back.

We have known for several years that Gypsy has a hip problem - probably arthritis. Five years ago, he came up with a limp and we put him on a pain killer prescribed by his veterinarian - Rimadyl a NSAID. Gypsy improved when on Rimadyl and we decided to take him off of it. His behavior became bizarre and we had to put him back on the drug and he went on a strict vegan diet. Over the next month, we successfully withdrew him from the Rimadyl.

He has had only occasional minor lameness until last Sunday when he wasn't able to get up. He had favored his left leg slightly on a walk the previous day, perhaps from compensating, and somehow he injured his right knee. When I massaged him, his right knee was very tender.

The next days were a bit difficult: helping Gypsy up and down stairs - carrying him and his 85 pounds of wiggliness, dealing with accidents, and having to sleep on the same floor to help him out. But in three days he was walking on his own and then he was able to go back to work.

The point of writing this: We recognize that we have a huge investment in Gypsy and we are for it. He gives us joy. He loves his family, the inn, the guests, and scones. He is constant companion to Murphy, our Lab mix. His favorite food now is the Ravens' signature dish, sea palm strudel. It is a wonderful dish. We bury his supplements in it.

Gypsy and Joan, August 3, 2009, at Matlock, Manitoba.

For those following Gypsy's story, here he is at the Lake not shown is his extended Manitoba family. He's a happy boy!

February 6th, Saturday night, on my way to bed, I passed Murphy, our lab-cross, in the hallway. I climbed the first flight of stairs to our bedroom and in the near darkness, a dog flew passed me. Rounding the winding staircase, I looked up and watched as a white tail wagged in front of the bedroom door. I was totally confused. Murphy doesn't have a white tail. I looked down the stairs and looked back-up - no tail, no dog.

I called Murphy; heard her coming behind me. I stopped, stunned.

The first dog up the stairs? Gypsy!

He had died the night before. Months ago, when he was able-bodied, he would run ahead and wait at the door to go to bed. He hadn't been up-stairs since early October.

That first February week began auspiciously. For the first time in several months, Gypsy was nearly able to get up on his own. He begged for treats and played with his toys. That was Monday. But quickly he grew weak and by Friday, he was failing and after four months of near immobility due to arthritis his heart gave-up. He died as I was petting him.

I didn't know how to announce his passing. He is already missed by our friends and staff and by guests returning to the inn.