This is a reprint of Henri's obituary notice in part. We are thankful to have found it. Here it is with some editing.

A short while after sundown, on the 24th of September 2003, Henri Bauer died. This quietly closed the door on one of the last American Registered Kennels to breed the German Shepherd Dog as it should be.

This small, 80 plus year old live wire of a woman in jeans and a T-shirt would come down the driveway to see who was causing the dogs to make all that ruckus. She would call out to welcome us in her soft high pitched voice. "Well," she would say, "Where Have You Been?" She would lay aside her scoop, or the water hose, or whatever else she was doing to welcome us. Sometimes we would be lucky, and there would be a brand new litter in the whelping room. The pups would look like little black bears with eyes still sealed shut, shakily exploring their small enclosed world. She would say something like "We Have a New Litter, Come See Them!" We would soon find ourselves up to your elbows in dark big-boned pups eager to meet this new and interesting person.

Those new pups would soon grow up to be the dogs that would always draw everyone back to Bauernhoffen. They were always dark, with strong flat toplines, sturdy hips and calm confident eyes. They would grow up to be dogs who walked up on their toes with ears erect. Henri's Bauernhoffen bloodline was, and still is, the hallmark of consistency from litter to litter.

Nearby, watching over everything like the lord of the kennel was Aaron. He would put his huge paws up on the fence top bar and silently wait for a good rub and an ear scratch. Out back, the older dogs living in retirement would bark now and again, and try to see who had come to visit. In the kitchen, there were females (Henri called them her Kitchen Girls), waiting to mob you once they had gotten a good sniff.

Henri cared. That was her thing. She cared down to her Soul. She cared first about her dogs. She cared about breeding the best. Finally she cared about the people who took her dogs away with them. Nothing gave her more pleasure than to get a call, or maybe a letter from a satisfied customer bragging about having the best dog they had ever owned. Few things raised her temper like hearing that one of her dogs was mistreated. She always said "If You Don't Like One of My Dogs, Then You Don't Like Me."   That was just the way she was.

It has been said that the best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his owner. After owning a Bauernhoffen German Shepherd for a while, the thought comes to mind who really owns who. We have pondered this question over and over. Thanks to Henri, there have been many great dogs carrying the Bauernhoffen name who have been given that final resting place in someone's heart. The one place Henri belongs now is in the hearts of her friends. People like us who have had that once in a lifetime dog come to us from Henri's heart and hands. With this in mind, we take pleasure in dedicating this web site to the Bauernhoffen "Best in Blacks" of Fredric A. and Henrietta Bauernhoffen of Woodstock Georgia. RIP Henri...

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