An old boyfriend and I picked Finley from two litters of Weim puppies in May 1997. He was the smallest puppy, but he was the one because he had a white "special spot" on his chest. After I broke up with the boyfriend, the one thing I fought for was Finley. I only had to pay the boyfriend for his half of the cost of Finley so he could get his own puppy. I would have paid ten times that amount to keep Fins.

Finley was a constant companion, and he was with me through the best of times and the worst of times. When I was upset, he would comfort me by laying his head on my lap and looking up with me with pure adoration. He was by my side, comforting me, when I was on bed rest for 3 months with a difficult pregnancy. When I was happy about something, he would run around the house celebrating with exuberance as only a Weim can do, knocking over end tables and running into chairs. When I brought my infant son home from the hospital in 2004, he greeted him as a member of the pack, with love and excitement, not an ounce of jealousy.

Finley was a true Weimaraner through and through. He was a champion counter surfer, he loved sleeping on the leather couch, and he inhaled his food so quickly that I was often confused about whether or not I had actually fed him. He knew how to play hide and seek, and he loved to show me his treasures, like a live possum or a half-eaten rabbit he’d caught in the back yard.

I married my husband in 2002 and became an instant mom to two children (then 8 and 10) who had lost their biological mother. Initially, I thought that Finley would have a hard time adjusting. True to his nature, not only did he embrace the entire new family, the children adored and loved him. They fought over whose turn it was to have Finley sleep in their bed. They gave Finley "spa days" where he would be lavished with attention in the bathtub. They dressed him up in bikinis and assorted outfits. Finley always looked slightly humiliated, but I knew he really adored the attention. My husband often complained about Finley’s behavior; I explained, "He’s a Weimaraner." I’m sure there were times when he wondered why I had fought for Finley, but in the end, my husband cried and cried when Finley died.

I watched as Finley suffered a stroke on November 20, 2007. He was in the hospital for over a week, unable to bark or walk. He still had the will to live so I brought him home and nursed him, taking him to physical therapy and waking up at night to put on his harness and taking him out to the back yard. He couldn’t bark, he couldn’t clean himself, and he couldn’t walk. Over time, Finley was able to walk in circles (like a car at Daytona 500) and bark when he was extremely excited, but he lost his Weimaraner spark. I would have been honored to keep Finley in whatever condition he was in, but he stopped eating and wouldn’t get off of the couch. Blood work showed that he was in renal failure, and his blood pressure and liver enzymes had increased again, despite medication.

The day I helped Finley over the Rainbow Bridge, he ate a favorite meal (rice and hamburger with pancakes for a snack), went for a walk in the spot where I am going to sprinkle his ashes and was constantly hugged and pet by all of the members of the family. I was by his side when he crossed to the other side. True to his nature, he didn’t complain or whimper. I am fortunate that he was mine; I hope I was deserving of him.