She was the most gentle, sweet dog that you could meet. Weighing over 100 lbs, she was still able to be gentle and generous with her sweetness.

The kids would tug on her ears and her tail. They would push her. They would get in her face. They would drape themselves over her large Great Pyrenees body. She always took it and never snapped or growled.

Britney was my brother’s dog but I loved her as if she were my own. I remember when she became a part of the family. She was a beautiful, fluffy little ball with tannish-gray ears. She terrorized Bailey (a year her senior) and continued to do so for the rest of her life.

Britney lived nearly 12 years (her birthday would have been in August) and for those twelve years, she was loved and cherished.

Whenever my brother spoke a key term, she would bark. She didn’t do anything but bark and it was more like “bark, Brit.”

Brit gave delicate, sweet kisses — but was picky about who she gave them to. I count myself fortunate to be one of those people.

Britney passed away this morning after some issues with her thyroids and weight. My sister-in-law, Cathy, was with her and my brother, Todd, arrived home from work shortly after. She was cremated.

“Get the cat, Brit.”

r.i.p.