Kasey May Newell July 23, 2002-October 27, 2014 On a warm summer day, we saw Kasey for the first time. She was born July 23, 2002, just a few weeks before that day. She was crawling among her litter mates, a beautiful yellow-white, pudgy, cuddly pup. Our intention was to select a male. Then we saw her father, a too-large and too exuberant dog for our home. Her mother, on the other hand, was just the right size, sweet, and docile, qualities that she passed on to Kasey. It is uncertain whether we chose Kasey or she chose us. But we took her home a couple of weeks later, and she was immediately a member of our family. Having earned a middle name, we came to call her Kasey May. She was well-settled into the family as a two-year-old when we brought home her canine sister, Bailey. She gave us a look that seemed to say, "Are you people crazy? Why did you bring home a DOG?" In the years to come, we would become familiar with that look, as well as others that left no doubt about her feelings; exasperation, concern, and being "put out" with us, as the occasion would warrant. Her beautiful face spoke everything words could convey, and more. "There's smoke coming out of her ears," we would say. But she was all forgiving, and she would soon be wagging the tip of her tail at our approach. The one look that revealed her heart to us the most, however, was the one in her eyes when she waited expectantly for us to chuck the tennis ball into the backyard woods. She lived for this. She was the field variety of Labrador retrievers---agile, athletic, and energetic. She would never give up on a game, and after several chucks of the ball, we would have to call it, for fear her heart would burst from exertion. She taught us several life lessons, such as anything worth having is worth a long and hard search for which you should never give up, like a lost tennis ball up in the woods. Or always know that your loved ones are safe at home before you settle in for the night. And shake off temporary pain, like that of surgery for the removal of a fatty tumor, because it's important to get right back into the business of life. Never miss an opportunity for a walk, because you never know when you'll get the next one. And finally, perhaps most importantly, when your time has come, let those around you know that you are ready to go, that you don't want to live in misery, or suffer, or be remembered as a pity case. She taught us that the most humane moment of our lives was when we surrounded her and held her in our arms as she passed from this world, three days after suffering a stroke. We only had her with us for twelve years. But a hundred and twelve would not have been enough. Daughter, friend, confidante, companion, Kasey was all of these to us and more. She leaves behind a family who mourns her loss, including her sister Bailey, who waits daily at the window for her return. There is a hole in our home where Kasey used to be, and a hole in our hearts where her image once was. The passing of time may soften our sadness, but it can never diminish the joy and love that Kasey brought to our lives. Visitation No Visitation Scheduled or Private Service No Service Scheduled or Private