Even at age 92, Ethel LeFebvre is as independent as they come.

She still lives in the bungalow in South Portland that she and her late husband, Joe, bought back in 1941.

She's been a client of Meals on Wheels for only the past six months – she finally agreed to sign up when the arthritis in her hand made it too painful for her to open and close the oven door.

And until recently, Ethel had all the companionship she needed – thanks to a 12-year-old black Lab named Brody.

"He wasn't a dog," Ethel insisted this week. "He was a little person."

Two weeks ago, Brody passed away. But before we get to that, a little about him and Ethel.

Their paths crossed three years ago, just after Ethel's 14-year-old terrier, Sally, died of old age.

Brody, who belonged to Ethel's grandson, needed a home after his family moved into a condominium that didn't allow pets. Ethel, who figures she's had almost a dozen dogs in her lifetime, needed a new housemate.

So one day her grandson showed up with 74-pound Brody, the oversized dog bed, the water bowl and all of Brody's other stuff.

After he thanked Ethel for the umpteenth time and left, Brody walked into the living room, plopped down on the rug and took a good long look into Ethel's eyes. Ethel, sitting in her favorite chair, stared right back at him.

"I finally said, 'We'll get along fine, honey," Ethel recalled. "And we did."

That's an understatement.

From day one, whenever Ethel walked anywhere in the house, Brody followed.

"I'd say, 'Go ahead, Brody.' But he wouldn't," Ethel said. "It was as if he knew better than to get out front because he might get in my way and trip me."

Every night at 8 o'clock sharp, Brody got up from watching television, walked into the bedroom and curled up in his comfy bed in the corner. And every morning at 8 o'clock sharp, he was there with his nose inches from Ethel's face, waiting for her to wake up.

"If I kept my eyes closed, he might go back to bed for a while," Ethel said. "But if I opened one eye, he'd be all excited and ready to go. It was like having a child – better than a child at times. He was just perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Not to mention hospitable. Every morning at exactly 10 o'clock, Brody would take up his position by the front door to wait for the Meals on Wheels volunteers – Steve on Monday, David on Tuesday, Dot on Wednesday, Bud on Thursday and Ray on Friday. Upon hearing a car door close outside, he'd hop up on the nearby window sill, tail wagging, for a look-see.

"The minute they came to the door, he was the welcoming committee," Ethel said.

He had good reason. First, Dot Cleveland started bringing a doggy biscuit on Wednesdays. Then Ray Gross, a dog lover if ever there was one, started showing up with soup bones on Fridays. Before long, all five volunteers were bringing treats for Brody along with meals for Ethel.

"My grandson would say, 'Brody's in doggie heaven!'" Ethel said with a chuckle. "We were just two old souls together. He was the dearest, sweetest thing – there wasn't an ugly bone in his body."

But alas, there was arthritis. And, beginning in early October, other evidence that Brody's days might be numbered.

"He started having problems with the outside steps and problems with his bowel movements," Ethel said. "And then he started throwing up."

A few weeks ago, Ethel's grandson came and they took Brody to an animal hospital in Scarborough. The X-ray and blood test confirmed Ethel's fears – Brody had an infection, he had kidney and liver failure, there were signs of a tumor ...

"We got him home, and that night, he missed his bedtime," Ethel said. "I looked and it was 9 o'clock and I said, 'Time for bed, Brody!' But he couldn't walk – he just dragged his back legs behind him. He finally got in there and just fell into his bed. He was paralyzed."

Ethel couldn't bear the thought of sending Brody off to the vet to be put down. No matter what, she promised him, she wouldn't leave his side.

And she didn't.

For three days, Ethel stroked Brody's head, pulled the soiled towels out from under him and put in fresh ones, held the water bowl close so he could at least wet his tongue.

And for two long nights, Ethel sat vigil on the stool she'd taken from her shower.

Meaning she never slept?

"No," she replied. "I was completely exhausted. I tried to lay down, but then he'd move and I'd jump out of bed. So I just sat there and rubbed his head and ears."

Just like she would a sick child?

"Just exactly like that," Ethel replied.

Eventually, Ethel knew what she had to do. Yes, the folks at the animal hospital told her, they could come to the house. And no, Brody would not suffer.

But what about Ethel? Who would help her get through this agonizing decision? Who would comfort her after they took Brody away?

That dreaded morning, long before the two women from the veterinary hospital were scheduled to arrive, Ethel heard a knock on her front door.

It was Ray Gross, the Meals on Wheels volunteer. At the sound of his voice, Brody lifted his head in the bedroom and let out a weak bark.

"Ray, could you go in and sit with him?" Ethel asked wearily. "I just can't do it."

"Certainly, Ethel," Ray replied. "Certainly."

Another knock on the door. This time it was Dot Cleveland, accompanied by another Meals of Wheels volunteer.

"How's Brody?" they asked.

"You got here just in time," replied Ethel.

Then, just as the veterinarians arrived, yet another surprise. The Rev. Lynne Campbell, Ethel's pastor at the Thornton Heights United Methodist Church, had been driving by when something told her to stop in and pay Ethel a visit.

"Ethel," Campbell said upon realizing what she'd walked into, "this is the Lord's work."

"It must be," Ethel replied.

"Would you like to have a prayer?" asked Campbell.

"Oh yes," Ethel said. "Please do."

And so, while the veterinarians administered the shot, Ethel sat in her living room, surrounded by a houseful of unexpected but welcome guests, and prayed for Brody. After they took Brody away, while Campbell comforted Ethel, Ray and the others went in and cleaned the bedroom from top to bottom.

"The little stories – those are the big ones," Campbell said Thursday. "Those are the ones that transform us all, that show us we're not in this alone."

Even now, as she sifts through the growing stack of sympathy cards on her coffee table, Ethel can't quite believe that her moment of despair somehow blossomed into "my first dog wake."

But she's eternally grateful to those who came knocking – and she's sure Brody is too.

"I was thrilled for him – that's what I was thrilled about," she said. "Because he was in his glory with all his friends around him. He went out feeling wonderful."

One more thing – Ethel asks that we please "not think I'm crazy."

The morning after Brody died, as she lay half-awake in bed, Ethel heard a dog bark – which seemed odd because, with Brody gone, there are no dogs in the neighborhood.

"I sat up and looked at my watch," Ethel said. "And it was exactly 8 o'clock."

Maybe, with all she'd been through, she imagined it. Or maybe not. All Ethel knows is she heard it that once – and hasn't heard it since.

"He might have just wanted to say goodbye to me," Ethel said.

And thanks for the send-off.

Columnist Bill Nemitz can be contactd at 791-6323 or at:

bnemitz@pressherald.com

Copyright © 2009 MaineToday Media, Inc.

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