Ginger's birth date is estimated. She was one of the most beautiful dogs I have ever seen. She was a Golden Retriever and Cocker Spaniel mix, and her head and body truly looked like a combination of the best physical traits of both breeds. She had gorgeous golden-brown eyes and a long strawberry-blonde coat that faded to light golden blonde on her tummy. Ginger was also extremely intelligent, well behaved, loving, and devoted, with a personality that I like to call "sparkly." She was one of the best dogs I've ever been around in my life. I can't believe someone dumped this wonderful being like a piece of trash; their loss was certainly my gain. She showed up in the pasture next door to my house in late May 1987 and had a couple of darling little black girl puppies less than two weeks later. Her daughters also lived with us until they passed on.
Ginger was our alpha dog, though she didn't push any of our other dogs around. She was just a natural born leader, and the other dogs followed her guidance. She had a pleasant, musical bark. Every time she barked, her front legs came up off the ground; I will always miss seeing her do that.
When she was about ten years old, I sensed that Ginger didn't feel well, though she didn't act like it. We took her to an emergency clinic and learned she was dying. No veterinary clinic in Oklahoma City had CT scan equipment at that time, so we rushed her to the Oklahoma State University Veterinary College in Stillwater, Oklahoma, for diagnostics. The veterinarians there learned she was hemor-
rhaging and believed she had a tumor on her spleen that was probably cancerous (Hemangiosarcoma) or, if we were lucky, non-cancerous Hemangioma. It turned out she had a giant hematoma, similar to a blood blister, on her spleen; and they had no idea what might have caused it. They removed her spleen; and she recovered quickly, especially for an older dog. We were truly blessed that the situation turned out as well as it did because we thought we were going to lose her then.
Toward the end of her life, Ginger began to get frequent nosebleeds. My husband and I had been down that road years before with another one of our babies, Missy, and knew what was coming. She had Adenocarcinoma, a type of cancer, in her nasal and sinus passages. One day Ginger had a her first and only seizure, and it was a really bad one. That was our signal that the cancer had probably spread to her brain, and it was time to let her go.
It was very difficult for me to write this memorial for her, and I still cry for her. She was a great friend to my husband and me.
Ginger was our alpha dog, though she didn't push any of our other dogs around. She was just a natural born leader, and the other dogs followed her guidance. She had a pleasant, musical bark. Every time she barked, her front legs came up off the ground; I will always miss seeing her do that.
When she was about ten years old, I sensed that Ginger didn't feel well, though she didn't act like it. We took her to an emergency clinic and learned she was dying. No veterinary clinic in Oklahoma City had CT scan equipment at that time, so we rushed her to the Oklahoma State University Veterinary College in Stillwater, Oklahoma, for diagnostics. The veterinarians there learned she was hemor-
rhaging and believed she had a tumor on her spleen that was probably cancerous (Hemangiosarcoma) or, if we were lucky, non-cancerous Hemangioma. It turned out she had a giant hematoma, similar to a blood blister, on her spleen; and they had no idea what might have caused it. They removed her spleen; and she recovered quickly, especially for an older dog. We were truly blessed that the situation turned out as well as it did because we thought we were going to lose her then.
Toward the end of her life, Ginger began to get frequent nosebleeds. My husband and I had been down that road years before with another one of our babies, Missy, and knew what was coming. She had Adenocarcinoma, a type of cancer, in her nasal and sinus passages. One day Ginger had a her first and only seizure, and it was a really bad one. That was our signal that the cancer had probably spread to her brain, and it was time to let her go.
It was very difficult for me to write this memorial for her, and I still cry for her. She was a great friend to my husband and me.
Ginger's birth date is estimated. She was one of the most beautiful dogs I have ever seen. She was a Golden Retriever and Cocker Spaniel mix, and her head and body truly looked like a combination of the best physical traits of both breeds. She had gorgeous golden-brown eyes and a long strawberry-blonde coat that faded to light golden blonde on her tummy. Ginger was also extremely intelligent, well behaved, loving, and devoted, with a personality that I like to call "sparkly." She was one of the best dogs I've ever been around in my life. I can't believe someone dumped this wonderful being like a piece of trash; their loss was certainly my gain. She showed up in the pasture next door to my house in late May 1987 and had a couple of darling little black girl puppies less than two weeks later. Her daughters also lived with us until they passed on.
Ginger was our alpha dog, though she didn't push any of our other dogs around. She was just a natural born leader, and the other dogs followed her guidance. She had a pleasant, musical bark. Every time she barked, her front legs came up off the ground; I will always miss seeing her do that.
When she was about ten years old, I sensed that Ginger didn't feel well, though she didn't act like it. We took her to an emergency clinic and learned she was dying. No veterinary clinic in Oklahoma City had CT scan equipment at that time, so we rushed her to the Oklahoma State University Veterinary College in Stillwater, Oklahoma, for diagnostics. The veterinarians there learned she was hemor-
rhaging and believed she had a tumor on her spleen that was probably cancerous (Hemangiosarcoma) or, if we were lucky, non-cancerous Hemangioma. It turned out she had a giant hematoma, similar to a blood blister, on her spleen; and they had no idea what might have caused it. They removed her spleen; and she recovered quickly, especially for an older dog. We were truly blessed that the situation turned out as well as it did because we thought we were going to lose her then.
Toward the end of her life, Ginger began to get frequent nosebleeds. My husband and I had been down that road years before with another one of our babies, Missy, and knew what was coming. She had Adenocarcinoma, a type of cancer, in her nasal and sinus passages. One day Ginger had a her first and only seizure, and it was a really bad one. That was our signal that the cancer had probably spread to her brain, and it was time to let her go.
It was very difficult for me to write this memorial for her, and I still cry for her. She was a great friend to my husband and me.
Ginger was our alpha dog, though she didn't push any of our other dogs around. She was just a natural born leader, and the other dogs followed her guidance. She had a pleasant, musical bark. Every time she barked, her front legs came up off the ground; I will always miss seeing her do that.
When she was about ten years old, I sensed that Ginger didn't feel well, though she didn't act like it. We took her to an emergency clinic and learned she was dying. No veterinary clinic in Oklahoma City had CT scan equipment at that time, so we rushed her to the Oklahoma State University Veterinary College in Stillwater, Oklahoma, for diagnostics. The veterinarians there learned she was hemor-
rhaging and believed she had a tumor on her spleen that was probably cancerous (Hemangiosarcoma) or, if we were lucky, non-cancerous Hemangioma. It turned out she had a giant hematoma, similar to a blood blister, on her spleen; and they had no idea what might have caused it. They removed her spleen; and she recovered quickly, especially for an older dog. We were truly blessed that the situation turned out as well as it did because we thought we were going to lose her then.
Toward the end of her life, Ginger began to get frequent nosebleeds. My husband and I had been down that road years before with another one of our babies, Missy, and knew what was coming. She had Adenocarcinoma, a type of cancer, in her nasal and sinus passages. One day Ginger had a her first and only seizure, and it was a really bad one. That was our signal that the cancer had probably spread to her brain, and it was time to let her go.
It was very difficult for me to write this memorial for her, and I still cry for her. She was a great friend to my husband and me.
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