Penelope and her green paw

I prepared this story for The Moth's March Story Slam in DC. The theme was "green" and lots of folks were inspired to share their stories. Alas, I was not chosen to tell mine live. So here is the written version.

I never thought I would be someone who spends $10,000 on their dog. Well, it turns out I am.

I got Penny when she was 11 weeks old. She was the sweetest chocolate lab puppy with the best disposition. Early on, we started taking daily morning walks. In the beginning, they were short and she'd stay super close to my feet.  But with time, the walks got longer and I eventually let her off leash. Then, because a tired lab is a good lab, I introduced the ball. I would throw it ahead and she'd fetch it and drop it at my feet. We'd do this for miles. And god forbid I forgot a ball. She would go into the brush and find an old forgotten lax or tennis ball. We'd end up with a stockpile of misfit balls in our garage.

She loved water too -- any puddle, lake, stream. She'd jump right in. Even if it was freezing. She'd end up with icicles forming on her fur.

When Penny was around five years old, she developed a limp. I thought it was just a fetch injury, but it persisted. After x-rays and a biopsy, the vet confirmed it was cartilage cancer, which was actually good news. If it had been bone cancer, it would have been lethal and fast. The vet told me if we removed the shoulder and limb, she would likely live a long, happy life. So I became someone who spends $10,000 on their dog and Penny became a tripawd.

And dang, Penny was so resilient. She walked, well hopped, out of the surgery center just two days after having her front limb removed. I thought we'd have to carry her. She even tried to jump into the back of our SUV.

It took Penny a few weeks to start running again. Then a few weeks later, I reintroduced the ball in limited doses. I'd cut her off, worried about her sole left shoulder. So she'd take her ball and drop it at a stranger's feet, looking up with those sweet brown eyes hoping they'd throw her slobbery mess. Inevitably, they would.

When we walked in public, people marveled. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her. One day, we ran into a young girl who saw Penny and said "Look Mom, she's skipping."  She inspired people. And me. Those daily walks were our happy place. She was my sidekick through a tough marriage, a sad divorce, and a hopeful starting over.

Last winter, Penny started slowing down. She got lumpy as labs tend to do. I knew time was running out. When she started showing signs of jaundice, the vet confirmed her liver was failing. It was time. So I scheduled an in-home euthanasia.

That last morning, I took Penny on our final morning walk and to our field to play ball. To her, it was like every other day.

After the procedure was done, the vet prepared a little plaster mold of Penny's paw as a memento. As she presented it to me, she said "Oh, look, it has a tint of green," from the grass and my heart smiled a little.

When Penny had her surgery, I told myself if I could just get a year it would be totally worth it. Well, I got four. And it was worth every penny.