Luckily, she turned out to be a wonderful dog for our family.
When my oldest was little (umm, like in the photo above... now he's 16 and 6'1") he couldn't say Montana. Not even close. He called the dog "Bana." So we nicknamed her "Montana Banana" so that his pronunciation made a little bit of sense. The other two kids just figured that was her name all along.
She's had her ups and downs with her health. In 2000, we finally (finally!) figured out that her unexplicable weight loss was due to the fact that she'd swallowed a tennis ball... and needed surgery to remove it... She's had more neural episodes than I can count, although the vet insists dogs don't have strokes, but there it is. And tumors? Oh yeah. In the last few years she's been lumpier than any dog has a right to be. But the last few weeks have been different, each day a little harder. This morning she just couldn't stand up anymore.
It was time.
We're going to miss you, Montana. Hope you're up in dog heaven chasing rabbits and squirrels and playing with your old friends, all of whom you somehow outlived. I hope they were all there waiting for you and there was a big dog party in your honor.
May 27, 1995 - January 17, 2012