02/18/2026
The exact details of the very beginning are uncertain - but suggestively bad. The documented part starts with her found tied to a fence as a stray in Harlem and then being brought to the Manhattan shelter. There, she was quick to be added to that weekâs euthanasia list given a bad case of kennel cough.
At the time, I had a bad case of browsing the NYC shelter listings for a companion for Fay. We reserved âStray #39082â minutes before she was set to âexpireâ having never met her.
I retrieved her from NYC and brought her back to the farm here in VT. In animal rescue, we often talk about the mythical âchildless home in the countryside for dogs who need a lifetime of decompression and rehabilitationâ. We happened to be just that.
Here she became âMableâ.
Mable was the most complex dog Iâve ever encountered. A creature of many superlatives, one of the four trainers we worked with deemed her âthe most abused dog they ever worked with in their decades long careerâ.
Trauma is a beastly thing - often manifesting as unpredictability and aggression when safety becomes distorted as threats from festering fear. Especially under these circumstances, it is a thing of wonder to gain the trust of another being and be chosen as their person.
Truth be told, it was mutual: Mable was my best friend.
It was impossible not to feel the contagious joy of her frequent zoomies or excitement during our daily walks in the woods or delight when she snatched a snack out in the field (apples, berries, carrots, cucumbers, peas, and bumblebees were amongst her favorites). Her sleep often radiated contentment through deep, deep snores and wag-provoking dreams.
But her omnipresent scars made aging hard. She could never have a true vet exam (alas, sedatives tended to have an inverse effect on her) and she began to regress this winter.
While we could not undo her beginning, we did our best to offer a peaceful end. Stray #39082 passed at her home as âMableâ surrounded by her family (Fay, Kyle, Adam, and me) who loved her for all that she was.
The vet and Kyle gave Mable one last belly rub, remarking it was also their first time ever really being able to do so.
In that moment, I realized just how precious our bond was: she and I shared nearly 8 years of daily belly rubs and affection. Today, much of my understanding of love and suffering has been shaped by Mable - and continues to be in her absence as I navigate the depths of grief.
In honor of Mable, please give the companion(s) in your life some extra love. And if you ever have the opportunity to help a creature in need navigate the world: do it.
They just may be doing the same for you all the while.