When I was a young boy, my best friend had this incredible dog… a German Shepherd named Brandy. One of my greatest joys then was to throw a ball for her so she would run after it, bring it back and drop it for another throw and run. That was when I knew that the dog for me as an adult would be a German Shepherd.

Two decades later I am working with the ladies of my day staff and we were talking about our favorite pets or some such while we were doing our assembly work. Time passes, and then one day the ladies ask me to step outside with them… and they held at the end of a lead a gorgeous German Shepherd puppy. She was all ears and feet and tongue… and her tail went into super-wag mode when we laid eyes on each other. I knelt to introduce myself to her (fist out for first sniff, of course) and after I got the approval I ended up with a wiggly German Shepherd in my arms. She chose me… and the forging began.

She had a name… Kelly. But, she didn't look like a Kelly to me. She had a spirit, a regality that deserved a more appropriate nom de vivre. One of my favorite names from the Bible had always been Sheba… and so I bestowed upon her a new name.

So, in short… that's how we came together.

Over the first weeks I learned about my new companion, and we began to learn to play “ball”. I bought her a baseball for the throw part, and then advanced to a softball when her head reached full size. And when she was a year old we went to obedience school together. We graduated together…

But now we had learned about each other, in our own ways. She learned a couple hand signs from me, and I learned how to read her eyes. She never spoke, never a bark… except when there was danger, and then her bark echoed through the trees.

So we lived the years together, when the years were not quite so kind to me, but Sheba gave me such unconditional love and devotion. Regardless of how my day at work was, she was there with her ball, ready to run and fetch. My home then was on a dirt road, so my throws for her sent her nearly flying down the path… and her kicks sent dust flying into the air. It was beauty to behold…

I learned just how fast she was one day. I threw her ball; she ran for it and came back at full throttle. I knelt down to welcome her back for another throw… and the last thing I remember was seeing a huge black nose, and then I was several feet back, on my back… and she sat where I had just been, ball on the ground, tail wagging.

Then I ended up having to live where I couldn't take her, and we were separated for a couple months. By this time I had met my beautiful young bride, and together we brought her back to me. Sheba lived with Mendy and her family, and my afternoons were spent with both the ladies now important to me. I threw her ball in that back yard, and she ran and ran… and my new fiancé watched as I played with my dog. And, my dog played with me…

Her parents were wonderful to watch over Sheba as we left for our wedding weekend, and then for our honeymoon trip a short time later. For several years after it became a running joke that every time we left she would start digging in the yard… presumably to take a short cut to wherever we were going.

I mentioned that Sheba barked only when there was danger. I was in the upstairs office at home one day and heard loud, ferocious barking outside. I followed the sounds through the house and into the back yard, to find Sheba barking at the back wall of the house with Mendy's parents' Lhasa, Toro, right behind her. And when he moved, she shifted her position so he was always behind her while she barked at the house. I went out to see what was wrong, and she paid me no mind… just kept barking at the house. I looked to see what had captured her attention to the exception of all else…

…and there lay coiled against the house, on the patio, a black snake. A poisonous black snake, in fact… there was no mistaking those fangs. You see, Toro was blind and could not see the danger… but Sheba did, and would not let him get at all near the danger he could not see.

I was cooking hamburgers on the grill one day. I make what we jokingly call “my world-famous Jackburgers”: lots of ground beef loaded with herbs and spices made into enormous patties. Well, where there is beef there are dogs, and I'm cooking barefoot on the patio with Sheba on one side and Toro on the other. And then… I drop a patty on the patio, right between my feet. Two canine noses go down… but only one body moves. Toro advanced to take a Lhasa-sized bite, and when he backed up to chew Sheba came forward for a Shepherd-size bite. This went two rounds… but that was something I never expected to see: dogs taking turns eating beef.

Mendy and I bought our home, this fixer-upper that looked bad but we could see the potential. When we decided this would be our new home, we brought Sheba over so she could begin learning her new territory. As we made improvements to the rooms and cleaned up the yards, there she was… watching us as we worked. Granted, I was always late coming to do the work because I was in the office… but I learned how to tear down old sheetrock… and cover my poor puppy in dust sometimes. She didn't care… she was with her daddy.

We played in our new backyard, her jaw muscles absolutely huge from the several years we have already played ball. But, I noticed a couple teeth starting to wear down from the softball contours, so I switched her to racquet balls. Her jaw muscles were so powerful that she actually ruptured over half a dozen racquet balls over the next few years.

We took some walks around our new neighborhood, her on the lead, my walking beside her, my bride at our side. Sometimes I would take her down to the nearby school for the long throws… and still she was like a black and brown blur, dark-hued quicksilver in graceful fluid motion.

A couple years back I was throwing her balls in the back yard, and I noticed that the warp-speed bursts of acceleration were not quite so sudden, and the retrieved ball didn't quite make it back to me for the next throw. And, whereas before I would have to stop her running to keep her from getting overheated, she was beginning to stop on her own accord now. And they gray was beginning to show in both our hair: my temples, her chin. We were beginning to age together.

I had always kept her in a dog house outside, but her house always had lots of padding and comfort. I don't remember when, but one day something prompted us to bring her inside to stay with us… might have been a tropical storm or some such coming through our area. But, instead of roaming through the house, she saw where I was seated on the couch, and promptly laid down beside me. This, I believe, began her retirement years.

Mendy and I would buy beds for her comfort while she was inside with us, as she spent our work days outside. As time passed she got newer and thicker beds. And then one day we brought home… a kitten. Sheba was already ten years old and happy to be sleeping within eyeshot of me at all times, and we had to bring in this tiny white fuzz ball which couldn't even walk two steps without falling over! But the first day our newly-named Dax was with us he came down with a terrible kitty-cold, and the vet gave us medicine for his tummy and his swollen eyes. That evening as I put the medicine in those tiny feline eyes Dax made a most tiny but pitiful “mew” and Sheba rose from her bed, came to my side, placed her head in my lap beside this tiny creature, and she spoke volumes with her eyes: “I didn't want a cat, but do you have to hurt it???” But what was most incredible was later that night… I had gotten up for a drink of milk or water and saw Sheba curled up in a tight ball… wrapped around the ill kitty to keep him warm. I knew then that Sheba had a baby all her own now.

For the rest of their years together, Sheba and Dax were inseparable. She still spent days outside, and he always gave her a friendly bop on the nose when she came in to welcome her home as well.

Her days of running had ended, but she continued to chase her Ball in her sleep, and I spent many evenings watching her back legs twitching and scooting back and forth as she ran in her dreams.

But, we knew her days were starting to shorten. Her doctor last December sent her home to “go to sleep” where she was comfortable. The running in her sleep stopped, and she slept longer and longer. Even though she never barked more than half a dozen times over the preceding 15 years she began to grunt a lot. And then… she began to fall. First it was a stumble walking, then eventually full falls down the steps. Our friend, Sheba's "Aunt" Toni, in England had gotten a special carry pouch for her little Yorkie, and my co-worker, Sheba's "Auntie" Suzi told me about a harness she used with one of her old puppies to help with walking. From their inspirations, I found a canine harness to wrap around Sheba's body to help her up and down the steps… and eventually, to move her completely.

Her eyes spoke volumes, and though she could no longer see me she peered into the depths of the special bond we shared to say… that she was ready.

Sheba left this life as she started our life together… in my arms.

My beloved puppy now rests in a special cherry wood urn repository; to the left of where I sit at my desk in our home office… she spent her final years always to my left in the office, and always with her head pointed toward me.

I have been blessed with such a long time with a noble creature of God's hand, Sheba Gannon. Such a life has to have a soul as much as I and I believe that Sheba is running over the endless grass beyond the Golden Gate, over the Rainbow Bridge, for the day when I join her and we again are playing Ball…

Rest, my beautiful Sheba… rest… and run, run like the wind!