Our Stories:

Stella By Starlite

written by EHM

Stella By Starlite was a voluptuous black bitch, tough in a fight, tender in love, bred by me to be a mother, she was the ultimate Uber-mama.

Stella's installment into my breeding program was met with some criticism for reasons I will go into later. However, she proved herself over and over again to be worthy and noble, but never more so than one cold and snowy morning in 2003.

It was a brutal winter. There was so much snow that fences were superfluous. No matter, my 12 active dogs needed to relieve themselves and work off the tension. I drive my kids to school, so the dogs had to fit into the commuting schedule. That meant that the dogs and I all got up and out into the pitch- black winter pre-dawn so I could feed the livestock and the dogs could run.

I was working in the light, in the aisle of my mare barn, when I heard the dog-sounds change in pitch. I felt the dog energy get very urgent. A whirling wheel of growling dogs rolled in from the darkness. They were joined at the hub where their teeth tugged at something. There, in the center, was the maimed body of a poor, baby rabbit. I grabbed snouts and hollered, but Millie swallowed what remained of the unlucky critter. Then she sat down, and looked at me, tongue hanging out, tail wagging. It was sickening, but completely doggy. All dogs, when they pack up, revert to their ancestral ways. That bunny was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Milly was not a bad dog. She was elated, and so were the others, I thought with disgust.

The clock was ticking, so I set back to work. The dogs began to bark and growl and whimper again. Oh, dang, I thought. They found a nest. And what could I do? No moon, no stars, no way to see out there, no way to find tiny bunnies and hide them from my Hounds of Hell.

Suddenly, Stella bolted straight for me and nuzzled her cold, wet nose into my palm. She pawed me and pressed into my hand, whimpering. She had something big in her mouth.

"Stella," I scolded, grabbing her at the back of the skull and inserting my thumb and forefinger into her mouth. I didn't need to be so forceful. She spit her gooey cargo right into my lap. It was a tiny, and entirely whole, baby bunny. Stella ran back into the darkness.

Five times Stella ran back to me with a precious mouthful. Her nose was better, and she was faster, than all the other dogs. We brought the bunnies to the house and made a box for them. We bottle fed them and raised them to independence. We always let Stella visit, but after a quick sniff and a lick, she went back about her own business, much as mother dogs do with their own weaned youngsters.

Eventually the bunnies were placed with a family who has a feedstore and a petting zoo. They met Stella, and their children lavished love on her with steady petting and little kisses to her smooth, domed head. She sat quietly, appreciating their esteem. Stella went on to have babies of her own. And eventually Stella became a therapy dog, sitting quietly beside pediatric dialysis patients, who petted her noble head while enduring the life saving procedure.

When I bred Stella, my mentor at the time got so angry she never spoke to me again. In her opinion, Stella's father was a "nobody," and therefore, Stella could have no worth. It is true that Stella's father was not a show dog. His owner hunted with him, that's all. His owner also did all the necessary tests to qualify Boomer as a breeding animal, which made him plenty good enough for me. So, maybe I lost a mentor. At the time, I was pretty rattled. I had no faith in my own judgment, and worse, no faith in my dogs. Stella changed all that.

My hope was that Stella would produce chocolate daughters for me. Characteristically, she honored my wishes, and I kept two chocolate daughters, Reba and Louise, and a great big grandson, Buddy. I am more than a little proud of this breeding for temperament, trainability, size, athleticism and heart. Of course, they retrieve.

Thank you, Stella, for everything. I am honored by your memory. Rest in peace.