8 June 1992 -- 10 May 2004

The life she lived was nearly perfect -- and perfect was her passing

There is always a "first dog," the dog to which all others ever after are compared. Tilla was ours; her quiet, gentle nature at home, her goofy sense of humor while out on walks (hiding behind a tree -- hoho, you can't see me!), and her rollicking enthusiasm in the obedience ring (where "down" meant "lift all four legs into the air and drop!") introduced us to the endless joys of having a Bernese Mountain Dog in the family. It was with her, as well, that we discovered the wonder of living in Divide, Colorado. One of my dearest memories in Colorado is of a midnight walk through the forest in our Lorien Dell after a rather uncommonly heavy snowstorm. Walking with us through thigh-high drifts under a still, cold full moon, a five month-old Tilla would alternate between diving into the drifts (disappearing for moments at a time under the snow) and gently pulling us along through the forest by our mittens. (Jessica)

Berners are a gift from God for us to love and share our lives with while we are both here on Earth

Unlike most of our overly trusting girls, Tilla was a sincere watch-dog with an alarming and serious bark and an uncanny ability to read into the intentions of strangers. While visiting in Denver, we saw a grassy park and decided it was a good place for an impromptu picnic. Shortly after we settled down, a very dangerous looking person began to walk directly toward us; however, when Tilla stood up with bristling neck hair, he suddenly veered away and disappeared. After being "properly introduced," however, no other dog could match gentle Tilla.