"You're a vet, aren't you?" the tall, balding man standing at my door asked. He twisted his hat in his hands and shifted from foot to foot.

"Yes, I am," I answered. "May I help you?"

"Well, it's my little dog," he said. "She's got the diabetes and is really not doing too well. I was wondering if you'd mind coming over to see her. The wife and I just live across the street and we'd be grateful if you'd see her."

I got my stethoscope, some medications, and walked across the street with the older man. "I'm Chuck Schmith," he offered as we walked. "We watched you move in and I'm glad someone finally bought this place. The renters are fine, but they don't really take good care of a place, you know? Anyway, Merle and I've been here more than 30 years and things change over time."

Merle, Chuck's wife met us at the door. "Thank you so much for coming over. We've been meaning to come and introduce ourselves, but, you know, time gets away. I'm sorry to bring you here for this, but our little dog, Missy, hates riding in the car and we think she's dying."

I looked at the little black schnauzer. Her face was grizzled with grey hair and her eyes were opaque with cataracts. She lay on her side, nearly too weak to lift her head. She was well groomed and obviously well loved. I listened to her heart. There was a significant murmur. "How old is she?" I asked the retired couple.

"Oh dear," said Merle, looking at Chuck. "She's got to be at least 14 years old or so," he replied. "We've been giving her the shots for diabetes for three or four years, I think. At first she did pretty well, but now..." his voice trailed off and he shrugged. "We think she should be allowed to die in peace at home," said Merle. Chuck nodded his head.

I didn't disagree with them. Missy's quality of life was nearly non-existent. With gentle hands, I helped Missy leave this life, peacefully and surrounded by her family. I noted with bemusement the unabashed tears in Chuck's eyes and on his cheeks. He lovingly scooped Missy up and carried her out to the grave he'd dug earlier that day. As I left their house Merle asked what I'd charge for that service. I shook my head, "There'll be no charge for today." I knew they were retired and I hoped that someone would look after my parents the same way. I heard Chuck sobbing in the back yard as he buried the little dog.

The next day when I got home from work, my yard had been power raked. I gazed in wonder at how neat and tidy the grass looked. I glanced over at Chuck and Merle's house with suspicions about who had done the work. I walked over and asked. Chuck said he simply felt like he needed to do something in exchange for the kindness I'd shown them with Missy.

This was the beginning of a delightful relationship with our neighbors across the street. Chuck and Merle would walk over in the evenings when we were in the yard and we'd talk about all sorts of things. In no time, Chuck confessed his love of horses, and we shared many stories of the great horses we'd known.

When Savannah, a crippled filly, came to live at our house, Chuck came over quickly to see what was going on. Her terrible wound had us discussing putting her down, but her attitude swayed us into trying to save her. When she started chewing on her wound as it healed, Chuck helped me make a neck cradle so she couldn't reach the injury. He watched as she healed and marveled at what a beautiful mare she was growing into.

We shared meals with Chuck and Merle, they taught us to play Mexican train dominoes and we sort of adopted them as "parents" of sorts. When they introduced us to their friends, they'd call us their kids. Eventually we even started to go to church with them.

Last fall, Chuck started not feeling well and then fainted during a church service. He spent time in the hospital getting tested to see what the problem was. Until this March, there was no real diagnosis; then came the grim news: He had cancer. Chuck decided to fight the cancer, and he and Merle traveled to Phoenix to the Mayo Clinic for treatment. The doctors there were optimistic about his treatment plan: first chemotherapy and radiation, then surgery. He was in so much pain when they left, I feared we might not see them again.

Things sounded good until two weeks ago when Chuck developed a raging infection and had to have emergency surgery. The surgeons told Merle when they finished that Chuck's abdomen was full of cancer. There was little hope that he would recover and difficult decisions would need to be made. Merle knew from discussions she'd had recently with Chuck that heroic measures were not an option. He died peacefully and with a huge smile at the very end.

I believe that Chuck is now with Missy and they are both joyful and at peace. It is difficult to understand why people and animals we love have to die, and I struggle with that everyday. I am coming to the knowledge that God has a bigger plan than we can understand. Ultimately, if we do our best and approach our lives with deep gratitude and love, then we are doing the right thing.

Goodbye, Chuck, we sure miss you.

Tia Nelson is a local veterinarian specializing in an integrated approach to animal health that combines traditional veterinary medicine with holistic, natural practices.