Cato

I lost Cato last week. He'd gotten out of the yard the week before and gone to visit the neighbors across the street. He was hit by a car right in front of our house on his way home. He spent 24 hours in the emergency clinic then was sent home. At first it seemed he'd be okay, but it became apparent that he had neurological deficits, which began to get much worse. So we took him to Tufts where they found that the first vertebrae connecting his skull to the spine was knocked out of place. It needed to be re-aligned, which would cause great trauma to the spinal cord and brain stem, possibly killing him, likely putting him on a respirator for a few days. Then there was a long recovery. The decision point was that even if all went as well as possible the repair would be fragile, meaning that exuberant Cato would need to be restricted the rest of his life. I could not put him through all that to live a life of frustration.


Cato was my first BC, a home trained pup who took me from Novice Novice to the National Finals to the World Trial. He was my go to dog for difficult farm work. Cato focused on the job at hand, and got the job done. He slept in my bed every night.