Hannah the Newf: October 9, 1995 - March 20, 2007

Hannah

October 9, 1995 - March 20, 2007

Hannah, a most extraordinary Newfoundland dog, died peacefully at my home in Billings, Montana early this morning.

She had suffered a myocardial infarction ( a "heart attack" ) in mid - December of last year, but recovered for a time.

She never quite recovered her legendary strength, however, and was forced to stop using the stairs in her final months.

After much consideration, and consultation with a friend, Amy Lam, D.V.M.,
I decided to provide Hannah with the type of care about which I am so passionate in my vocation:

Hospice.

Hannah was maintained in comfort. It was remarkable that she would still lift her head to me, even after 14 days without food, and 7 days without water.
A tough dog.

Hannah, if human, would have been nearly 92 years old.

Hannah was born in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, her mother from Arizona, and her father a world champion out of one of the two most famous Newfoundland breeders -
Pouch Cove Kennels in New Jersey.

She was black, but with a white blaze on her chest proving her lineage.
One of her relatives won "Best in Show" a few years ago at Westminster.

Hannah served, without compensation, as the model for Captain Meriwether Lewis' Newfoundland Dog, "Seaman", for Montana artist Don Greytak's
series of prints commemorating the 200th anniversary of the expedition of Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery.

She lived in Gulph Mills, PA, then moved with me to West Chester, PA.
There she met her best friend - the late Mr. Murphy - the most exceptional Golden Retriever on the planet, and owner of my best friend, Carol Nevulis.

In February of 2003, Hannah bravely rode 2,200 miles in our Volkswagen Camper, "Miriam" with me when we moved to Havre, Montana. There, she experienced
rattlesnakes, gophers, badgers, coyotes, mule deer, antelope, and even an adolescent mountain lion, as well as temperatures ranging from 47 degrees below zero
to 111 degrees above zero -
all in our back yard!

In her early days, she would come to my office in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania.
She accompanied me on numerous canoe trips in the Adirondacks in upstate New York - Hannah took the bow position,
and would actually help balance the canoe so that I could stand up in the canoe and propel it upstream or in shallows with a pole.
Hannah was an avid walker, and in one day, would do 13 miles - with pack - on the Appalachian Trail in Maine.

She climbed Mt. Marcy, the highest peak in New York State.
There she took a nap on the US Geological Survey marker on the peak. Twenty minutes in to her nap, about 30 Japanese tourists arrived, but being afraid of a 130-pound
dog ( they thought she was a black bear! ), not one of them got to stand on the absolute top of Mt. Marcy.
On this particular occasion, as you could imagine, several hundred photographs of Hannah were taken - photographs that now reside in Japan.

She was also fond of pulling children in a wagon - you could see the excitement in her action when I would pull out the wagon harness or the doggy backpack.
Hannah pulled two children about 3 miles in the annual parade in Havre.
True to her breed - the oldest domesticated breed, and the only truly American breed - she loved to work.

Hannah was gentle and naturally protective ( she never bit anyone, and a two-year-old could walk her on a leash ). She would always position herself between traffic and a child when walking along a road. She always perked up and came to attention at the sound, no matter how distant, of a child crying.
I once found her protecting a nest of baby rabbits outside our home in Gulph Mills, PA.
Not a hunting dog.

She was also brave. She once saved the life of a Llasa Apso being mauled by a 160-lb Rottweiler, intervening without hesitation or command.

Hannah was tolerant of three dog rescues and temporary adoptions that I forced upon her - another Newfoundland, a demanding Golden Retriever, and a neurotic German Shepherd.
She was also tolerant of living with me, spending too many hours home alone during my long work shifts and call schedule.

Hannah was willing to spend her time with me, conducting our lives like an expedition with all of the uncertainty that such involves.

Hannah also had an infinite capacity for sleep, and would always do so in the place most likely to interfere with my passage should I try to change location.

She looked beautifully, peacefully asleep this morning.

I thank you all for indulging me in this reflection on an incomparable being.

meb