Gracie fell asleep for the last time in my wife's arms.

When Michelle and I got married, we each brought a dog to the relationship. Charley had been with me for six years; Gracie had been with Michelle for 12. She was already old and a little curmudgeonly when I met her, but she was a sweet brindle pit bull, her fur shot through with white, and she liked to sleep a lot. She had earned the rest.

Gracie was a good-natured dog who changed a lot of minds over the years about pit bulls. She was a patient, steady ambassador for her kind, proving over and over again that a pit bull, well treated and loved, could be the sweetest and most loyal of dogs.

Her stories are mostly not mine to tell, as I was only there for the last few chapters. But I know she was the right dog for my wife at the right time, coming into her life exactly when she was most needed. She was my wife's constant companion through thick and thin -- new homes, new relationships and, of course, the birth of the twins. Through it all, Gracie was a sturdy, cheerful presence.

Of course, she had her quirks. She didn't like little dogs, and she was never too sure about any dogs, big or small, who dared walk in front of our house. She liked to go walkabout before going potty, usually picking a spot far, far away from the door so that Michelle and I had to go on daily "treasure hunts," disposable bags in hand. Where Gracie peed, the grass inevitably died. She was tubby but solid, and we often joked that if we took her for a swim, she would sink like a stone. She snored. She had a passion for tummy rubs. She also enjoyed playing (sometimes) with Charley, rediscovering a puppy-like playfulness that had been absent for a few years.

We loved her dearly.

But she got old, as dogs must do. She packed on a few more pounds. She slept more. She had trouble with the stairs, and she suffered an increasing number of aches and pains. She gradually went blind, and she started running into things in her way.

But she still loved sprawling in the grass on sunny days and, more than anything, curling up with Michelle. She loved to be with her people.

On her last day, Gracie woke with Michelle and walked from the bedroom into my office, where she laid down and never got up. Michelle called the vet, and I carried Gracie down the steps and to the car.

The news, of course, was grim. Several issues faced poor Grace, all of which I needn't detail here. The worst was a large mass pressing into her heart. There were options -- chemotherapy and surgery among them -- but the prognosis wasn't good, and the poor, dear pup would be miserable. After much discussion, and no few tears, we made the difficult decision to let her go with dignity, to put an end to her suffering before it became unbearable.

It was a hard goodbye, as goodbyes of that nature always are. Gracie, I think, knew and approved of the decision. And, as Michelle said her goodbyes, Gracie leaned her head against her and said her goodbyes, too. At the very end, she relaxed into Michelle's arms and went calmly to sleep.

She was a dear, gentle pup who enjoyed a long and contented life. It was over too soon, but of course we are grateful for every minute. She met her end as she lived her life, living up to her name -- with Grace.