Keno was our dog. That sentence seems so incomplete and inadequate. Between the day my wife, Pam, brought home this battered, tattered and obviously abused puppy from a mall’s parking lot to the day over 12 years later that she passed away, Keno was so much more.

Our middle dog, Keno was at times daughter, sister and mother. We had Millie, the matriarch, 16 at the time she passed away a year ago, and Cubby our 5 year old (picture Marley on steroids….. if you’ve seen the movie Marley and Me you’ll understand). During those almost 13 years we never had a day where she was a primary concern. Despite two attacks by unleashed dogs, two torn ACL’s in both hind legs, a complete swollen and closed eye due to a tooth infection and a pepper spraying and beating by home invaders, Keno never whined or demanded attention.

She jumped higher and ran faster than almost any dog I ever saw (ask the squirrels she terrorized in our back yard, especially the one she brought into our living room one summer day). Even after both hind legs were damaged due to the torn ACL’s, Keno ran as fast as she could with Cubby in the back yard chasing birds, squirrels and balls.

She would never demand attention, just lifting her head toward you ever so slightly when you passed her lying on the floor, looking out the front door watching life pass by, so you could give her a few pats on the head and then continue watching the world.

She filled our lives with love while demanding none. Keno was our dog.

— Jeff from Van Nuys, CA