Lisa and I adopted Casey from the SCWT Rescue Society of Northern California in September 1996. To our amazement, she actually prefers the climate of the Northeast to that of Northern California. 20 degrees Farenheit and a good strong wind is her idea of a pleasant day. In fact, one of her favorite past-times is stopping stock still in the middle of one of those particularly vehement gusts that originate in Siberia, reach maturity in Northern Canada, and make their first U.S. stop in Lewiston, Maine around 10:00 pm, when I'm giving her the last walk of the day. Lisa and I were so alarmed at this prediliction that we felt compelled to purchase her a spiffy fleece jacket (green with a charming plaid collar) when we spent our first million on down, silk and fleece at L.L. Bean last fall. She wears it, I think, to humor us.

She particularly loves scrambling through fresh snow and is especially enamoured of jumping on us after her walk, and after we have shed our layers of winter gear, exposing heretofore and to her mind sadly clean and snowless garments. Interestingly enough, our little Princess does not like old snow. Once the stuff's been on the ground a day or two, she sticks to shoveled walks. Apparently iceballs are reasonable price to pay for the wonders of new snow, but not old. This fastidiousness is of some concern to us because we have decided this winter to embrace the climate and try our feet at cross-country skiing and snowshoeing (a decision made only after it became apparent that denial wouldn't work - you simply can't will Maine to have Palo Alto winters). Since we have only just had our first significant snowfall and won't have our first outdoor activity lessons for another week, it is too soon to say if she will join us on our benighted escapades.

Casey loves people over the age of 12, but is terrified of toddlers (a not unreasonable attitude). She likes to come to class and, having received her pats and distributed her licks, fall asleep at the front of the room (she's already heard most of my lectures). She is a tad imperious about the office, however. Some students suffer from the misapprehension that it is my office and that when they visit it, they do so to visit me. Casey responds to such delusions by barking repeatedly and - some might say, hysterically, until visitors play with her. It only takes a few weeks each semester to straighten things out, fortunately.

Casey died on December 18, 2001.  She became ill quite suddenly and we discovered she suffered from kidney disease.  We miss her very much.