Camille was found unconscious by the side of a highway in north Georgia on a summer Sunday in 2002. Someone had sliced large, deep "x" cuts all over her belly and flanks and she was in shock. A driver stopped and drove her 100 miles to an emergency vet clinic. It took over 300 staples to close her wounds, but she survived and was taken into Rescue. She was adopted by a wonderful couple in Atlanta and renamed "Millie." All of us at Rescue were saddened to receive this message from her owners:

"I just wanted to let you know that we had to put Millie to sleep today. It's been about the worst three days of our lives. I keep thinking I'm going to run out of tears, but apparently I'm not. Looking back, she'd been in decline for some time, but she started throwing up food on Saturday and couldn't keep anything down. Reluctantly, we made the decision. Last night we had a really good walk-- just like old times-- and we even got her to give us the old ten o'clock crazies, which she probably hadn't done in a month or more. Millie spent the morning in her favorite spot: on the deck, basking in the sun on a beautiful day. The vet came out to meet us, and she passed quietly. We could not have scripted a better ending.

We are so grateful for the time we had-- almost four years to the day when I came to your house to get her. But of course we wish we had more. We can't thank you enough for taking her in after she was injured and for giving her to us. She was there for all of the important moments that we shared together --our engagement, our marriage, and this August the birth of our daughter. Millie meant the world to us, and neither of us can remember a time without her (to think that we'd only been dating 8 weeks when we got her. . .) She did have a wonderful 4 years; lots of lounging in the sun, sleeping in the adult bed, and plenty of loving-on-demand. Of course, they were a wonderful 4 years for us as well.

Two/three years ago we were driving to visit Michelle's family in Nashville and we stopped at a gas station north of Chattanooga. Michelle had gone inside and I was walking Millie around the station. This local got out of his pick-up and just stared right at the dog and me. After 30 seconds or so he nodded at me. "Hey," he asked, "Is that a coonhound or a pet?" I didn't understand the question, and he repeated it. Then I understood. "She's a pet," I replied. He snuffed and walked off. Maybe that's the best way I can put it: she may have lived the first 5-6 years of her life as a coonhound, but good or bad, she died as a pet.

Thanks again for being so instrumental in giving us such a wonderful, wonderful gift that we enjoyed every day over these past four years. She was the sweetest, gentlest soul."

Michelle & George