In loving memory of



Shannon Ladutke
(March, 1984 - September 13, 1999)

Shannon came into my life in May of 1984 (when I was fourteen). Our family was finally ready to move on after Brandy, our diabetic Siberian Husky, died of complications following a severe stroke. My parents were understandably hesitant about getting another animal from the Plainfield Humane Society after this experience. My sister, Helenanne told them that her friend from work had a litter of Lab puppies. They agreed and she brought the new pup home. I can honestly say that that was the best thing that she ever did for me.

Shannon was the runt of her litter. She was about eight to ten weeks old, yet only weighed four and half pounds. She could fit in the palm of my hand and had to be carried up the steps in the garage. She had a small white stripe on her chest, but this would disappear as she aged.

I remember playing with her in the kitchen the first night we had her. The ball was almost bigger than she was. She actually barked at it. This has always been a humorous memory, given how crazy she became about playing ball.

One of the things that I regret most is that I don't have any pictures of her at this age. My parents rarely took photos. Those that they did were never organized. I do know, however, that they have one picture of her at six months somewhere.

While Shannon would never have won any breed-standard contests (if she had had papers), she grew up to be a very beautiful girl. She was relatively small for a Labrador; she never weighed more than sixty-five pounds. Her ears would not have pleased judges because they stuck out more than on most Labradors. This made only made her more adorable, however, because they resembled ponytails. She also had a crook at the tip of her tail. In my eyes, these supposed-defects made her unique.

Like all black Labs, however, she had a short, smooth, soft, shiny black coat. She also had the prettiest deep brown eyes. She also loved to play ball, of course. I "taught" her, as if a Lab needs to be taught. She would always want to play-on and on.

Shannon Playing Fetch
December 1997

Shannon's main vet was Dr. Kubiak at the Piscataway Animal Clinic. I'm very grateful for the wonderful job he did with her. (She wouldn't let anyone without a vet's license trim her nails, by the way.)

Shannon was spayed at six months of age. Granted, a side of me wishes I had one of her puppies right now. She also showed a strong maternal instinct, especially toward cats (except when they went near her food). In fact, she found numerous litters of kittens hiding in my parents' shrubs over the years. Rachel and I adopted one of them, a tortie we named Housatonic Peanut-Butter Fudge. Shannon had the opportunity to mother three of Hoosie's siblings who were adopted by my parents: Teddy Bear, Sierra, and Lucky.

Shannon with Teddy Bear Kitten
December 1994

Still, I am glad that we had her spayed. I know that the length of her life was almost certainly increased by reducing the health risks related to not spaying at an early age. I also think of all those healthy pets that are killed-or worse-each year because of overpopulation and realize that, but for chance, my little girl could have been one of them. I don't want other animals to suffer. I would also hate to be thinking right now that one of her pups might have suffered once it left our care-you never know.

Shannon helped me through some very difficult times. The first, of course, was the aftermath of Brandy's death. There was also a lot of conflict in my family as my parents tried to deal with my sister's adolescent problems. They didn't have much time left for me, and my reactionary Polish peasant live-in grandmother took care of me (and stifled me). As a result, I was shunned at school. Shannon was truly my best friend during this period. It was great to be able to play with her and feel her love for me. It was great to be able to express my love for someone without fear of rejection or humiliation. She became "my" Lab when we had my social security number tattooed on her leg for protection.

Lazy Girl
Summer 1991

I believe that one of the most important sources of my commitment to human rights and social justice was Shannon and our other animals. I learned a lot of lessons about empathy, as well as how to value a living being for itself. I hope that our children will learn these same lessons.

I lived at home while I went to Rutgers. One of the best things about this was being able to spend time with Shannon. While there were some serious drawbacks to living at home (especially for the first year, before my grandmother died), I am very glad that I had these years with her. Once again, she helped me get through some tough times.

I got my first real camera for Christmas during my first year of college. I'm very grateful that I took a lot of pictures of Shannon starting in early 1988.

Our Back Yard
Early 1988

I was confused about what I wanted to do after graduation and lived at home for another year. I decided to apply to grad school and was accepted at CUNY. I finally moved away in September of 1992. I remember having lunch with my mother after she helped me set up my dorm room. I got very choked up when I told her that would miss my baby girl. I was also worried that she might think that I was leaving because I didn't love her anymore.

Luckily, I was able to visit her at least once a month. She would always bark when I knocked at the door, only to become ecstatic once she realized it was me. Sometimes she would fall asleep on the couch with her head in my lap.

Happy Birthday - A Rope Toy!
March 1995

After 1993, Rachel (whom I married in 1996) would sometimes visit with me. She repeatedly remarked on how much time I would spend with Shannon. Gradually, she came to understand my special bond with Shannon, especially as her bonds with our cats developed.

I tried to make Shannon as happy as possible when I visited. I often bought her toys or treats. She loved rope toys, and frequently needed a replacement. I also took her for drives to Spring Lake Park in South Plainfield and Johnson Park in Piscataway. She loved the change of scenery and the opportunity to get some good exercise. She was also quite happy to meet people who commented on what a pretty girl she was.

Rachel, Shannon & Me
December 1994

Even though she loved taking baths, she never once jumped in a lake. I would sometime tease her during these trips by saying, "Shannon! Get the ducks! Get the ducks!" I sometimes joked that we had robbed her of her cultural heritage.

I hated leaving after a visit, however. Shannon would always become sad when she sensed that I was getting ready to go. The look on her face would make me feel so guilty.

My previous experience with canines in our family led me to worry that Shannon would die at an early age. I remember becoming very depressed when watching The Nightmare Before Christmas because the ghost-dog (Zero) made me dwell on this possibility-Shannon was nine at the time. Another one of my regrets is that I worried about this too much over the years instead of enjoying our time together as much as possible.

In fact, Shannon stayed healthy for a long time. She started developing a few moles and bumps once she passed twelve or so, but that is normal. When she was fourteen, Dr. Kubiak performed surgery on her one last time before he retired to check a lump for cancer. Happily, it was benign. Even at this age, I would have to tell her to take a break from playing fetch because she needed to catch her breath!

Old but still Beautiful
August 1998

I noticed the first signs of serious trouble when Rachel and I returned from vacation in August of 1998. We took Shannon to Spring Lake Park, and she seemed a bit spooked. I also noticed that she was dragging one of her back paws slightly.

Her arthritis became worse. Unfortunately, the first medications that my parents tried on her did not work very well. Luckily, they found a new doctor at the same clinic who really liked her. He didn't want to give up on her as long as she wasn't suffering and helped my parents make her as comfortable as possible. My parents were willing to put in the extra effort, even when she began having more accidents. I'll always be grateful to them for doing this.

Me taking Shannon for a walk
November 1998

She would have some good days where she could get up by herself, and some bad days when she could not. Once up, she would want to walk all over the house for a long time before laying down again. This exercise helped her retain some strength in her legs. She couldn't sit, just lay, but this didn't stop her from begging for food. I would have loved to play ball with her, but she would wipe out while chasing after it. I didn't want to risk her breaking a bone. While she had previously barked whenever she heard noise outside, she now limited herself to growling when someone inadvertently caused her pain by helping her up.

There were some other changes as well. Her new doctor put her on a strict no-dog food diet to help cut down on accidents around the house-only bland quality meat mixed with rice and/or pasta specially cooked for her. She also needed to be bathed quite regularly (which she loved, anyway). She always seemed to be hungry and ate good, but she was getting thinner. She even started rummaging through the kitchen garbage. Toward the end, her hunger and constant thirst led me to suspect that she might be developing diabetes. My parents said that they had tested her for that earlier in the year. (They consulted with the vet by phone at this point. It was too hard on Shannon to bring her in.)

My mother also put in a regular schedule of taking her out, including six a.m. every day. Unfortunately, it's impossible to convince canines her age to sleep on something soft. They always want to lay on a cold, hard surface. This made it harder for her to get up by herself. It also slowly led to pressure sores developing on the leg she always rested on.

When I was in high school, I threatened to move away and take Shannon with me. While I would have loved to have seen more of her than I did, I'm glad that I didn't do this. I wouldn't have been able to give her the care that my mother did in her final year.

Shannon at Johnson Park with Mom
Spring 1995

There was one other change that happened right around the time Shannon's age began to catch up with her: King. My sister adopted him, a young collie who had been abused by his previous owner. He was (and is) a good kid in general, and I tried to be nice to him. Unfortunately, however, Shannon would give me a guilty look if she caught sight of me playing with him. I didn't want her to think that she was being replaced. I therefore tried to sneak some time in with King when she was sleeping.

There were several visits where I thought I would never get to see Shannon again. One happened in July when Rachel was away in Ireland. Shannon was dragging her right rear leg in a wide arch. She hadn't been able to get up on her own since May. She could barely make it up the steps into the house, even with help. My mother said that her doctor said that it could be any time, a day, a week, a month. This was one of several times that I said my goodbyes to her, in case I didn't have another chance.

I told her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me. I thanked her for all the years we had together. Perhaps most important of all, I told her that no one would ever replace her. (We are therefore not going to ever give her name to anyone else.) I also explained to her that we would do anything we could for her, but that we were running out of things to do. I explained that we wouldn't kill her because we didn't love her or because of anything that was her fault, but only to prevent her from suffering. Some people might think that I was silly to explain this to her, but it was important to me that I apologize. I felt horrible that I couldn't help her in any other way.

Actually, I had almost avoided going to see her while Rachel was away. I was afraid that a decision would have to be made soon, and I didn't want to be part of it. I was afraid of taking part in killing her, even if it were for the best. I was also afraid of seeing her in poor shape and not being able to help. In retrospect, I'm glad that I went and was able to tell her these things. I also believe that I cheered her up a little.

Rachel and I went to Jersey on Labor Day weekend and drove the car to New York so that we could use it to visit her parents for Rosh Hashanah. I promised Shannon that I would see her again when I returned the car the following Tuesday (September 14, 1999).

I had a bad feeling that weekend. Part of this might have been due to having a cold. I was probably feeling a little bit guilty that we had arranged things so that I didn't have to stop by my parents to pick up the car on Thursday.

There was a hang-up on our machine while we were driving home. This wasn't too unusual because my parents hardly ever left messages. I called them when we got home, however. My mother asked to speak to Rachel, and I knew why. Rachel returned the phone to me, and my mother confirmed my suspicion that Shannon was dead.

She had started getting bad on Friday. By Sunday, she couldn't even stand or walk without support from a towel under her stomach. My father mentioned something about her crying during Sunday night and Monday morning. They took her in to vet early Monday morning. A nurse who had known her since she was a puppy stayed with her at the end. The staff was apparently very upset as well.

I had spoken with my mother a few months earlier about the possibility of having her cremated separately when she died. I wanted to treat her with respect, not like a piece of garbage to be discarded. She told me that she had made arrangements and had put aside the money. I emphasized that this should not prevent them from using this money on something that might help Shannon feel better or live longer and she agreed.

Shannon started a new arthritis medicine shortly before the end. From what my parents tell me, it did ease her pain considerably. She had been growling a lot when she was being helped up, but this stopped with the new medicine. Unfortunately, this was not enough to keep her going, however, as the strength in her legs left her. I'm disappointed that we don't have her remains, but I am certain that it was more important for her to have this medicine, even if she didn't get to use most of it. My only regret is that she didn't get it sooner.

We still have her red collar and tags. There's a painting of her that hangs in my parents' house next to one of Brandy. I have lots of photographs of her from age three on. My parents are also keeping her toys, including the balls that she inherited from Brandy. I'm sure she would want our next canines to have them so that I can keep playing fetch.

Even without her remains, I still wanted her to have a memorial of some kind. I looked through my photos and scanned some in to the computer. I've been very busy with my dissertation, but I've worked on writing this late at night. I want to post this story and these pictures in my web directory so that there is some visible memorial for her.

Wearing Dad's Hat
Early 1992

To be honest, the grief didn't hit me that strong at first. I thought it was because I had already grieved. I now think that it had to do with how busy I was focusing on a dissertation problem. Once I had some time during the weekend, however, it hit me head-on. I miss her terribly. That may sound strange, given that I didn't see her every week anyway. But I know that she's gone, and I don't have any certainties about what happens to us after death. I like to think that there's a benevolent God, partially because of my own fear of death. As a human rights advocate, I also hope that evil-doers who have escaped justice in this world will have to face it in the next. But if there is a truly superior force out there, I know that Shannon deserves a reward.

-Larry (also known as "Michael" by Shannon)
September 1999

Larry's Home Page

mailto:[email protected]

Sign Guestbook View Guestbook