My oldest son Jonathan found Carla, a shy Jack Russell terrier, wandering on the side of a busy highway. Worried that she was going to be hit by a car, he brought her home. For several weeks we tried to find her owner, but never could. That was 17 years ago. Carla died last night.

My son Jordan, who we lost 4 years ago now, got his first dog 18 years ago. He had hounded me about it until I finally gave in. We found a 3 week old dachsund for sale out in the country – who Jordan immediately named Jude, after his favorite Beatles song. When Carla unexpectedly became a member of our family a few months later, Jude and Carla became inseparable. They were best friends for 17 years. Jordan called them Batman and Robin. They did everything together.

It became obvious a few months ago that the old partners were slowing down, Carla at a much faster rate than Jude. When Carla could no longer jump up on the couch to their favorite sleeping place, she started sleeping on a blanket in front of the refrigerator. A few days after she found this new bed, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen. Jude was sleeping next to Carla on the blanket on the floor. They slept there together for the last 6 months.

The more Carla struggled physically over the last few weeks, the closer Jude stayed by her side. It seemed like he wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. Three weeks ago, on a Friday, Jaymaine called me at work in a panic. She was about to call the vet and have Carla put down. The poor dog could not walk at all. She could not stand up. Our vet was too busy and scheduled an appointment for the following Monday. To be honest, I was relieved the vet was so uncaring to help that day. When I got home from my long commute, I held Carla in a blanket as I sat on the couch and watched golf.

Curiously, over the weekend, she rallied. We never even discussed taking her to the vet on that Monday. For almost three weeks, she started eating a bit and moving around almost normally. Jonathan came by our house – the house he grew up in – one day to see her. I stood a few feet away in the door and watched him say goodbye to the dog he had saved. Tears came quietly as I thought about my three boys playing in the yard with Carla and Jude. I thought of Jordan playing Beatles songs on his guitar while Batman and Robin sat quietly at his feet. I thought of all the years.

I tried not to listen, but I heard Jon say before he left, “It’s ok, baby. I love you.”

Last night I was watching NCAA basketball when Carla struggled to walk into the room. She got to my feet and was obviously in severe pain. She could not stand up after the effort. I immediately knew. I held her one last time and watched Alabama play their best game of the season. I told her quietly that it was ok to go and that she would see our Jordan soon.

We had Carla put to sleep at an emergency animal hospital in Huntsville during the night. It was calm, quiet and peaceful. She was a part of our family for over 17 years. Jude has lost his lifelong partner in crime. Part of our family is gone. In the words of Tolkien’s Gandalf, “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”

A lifetime ago, Carla was saved from being killed on the highway by a complete stranger. A stranger with compassion. She had a great, long life. In this increasingly hateful and cruel world, there has to be a lesson there.