The brown dog running around the Santa Fe neighborhood had owners — the dog got food and water, to be sure, and a doghouse of some kind for protection in inclement weather.

But was the "care" enough? And more importantly, did it have love? Those were the questions that plagued animal advocate Lily Azures. As weeks grew into months, she observed the dog as it slowed down with age, no longer able to crawl into its igloo-style outside shelter.

And she started to secretly give it pain relievers for apparent arthritis — aspirins tucked in hot dogs, along with crunchy dog biscuits for building healthy teeth. The skittish dog seldom came to her, but over time the two developed a relationship — the dog wandering over to a makeshift bed Azures set up in the sun so the dog could rest in a comfortable spot.

She spoke with the owners, and they assured her the dog was getting proper care. But Azures knew the dog's health, at 15 years old, was deteriorating. It wore on her that the dog would never know love beyond an occasional pat on the head.

"She was fed, and she was watered," Azures said. "But ownership and responsibility go so much further than that. So many times, these dogs are ignored. People come home from work, walk through the gate and don't even notice the dog. These pets live for the moment that you come home."

Azures no longer has to worry about the dog. Last week, through a twist of Santa Fe fate, along with several groups working together, the dog — Roxy — ended up as the newest resident of Kindred Spirits Animal Sanctuary.

So it was fitting last week that there were plenty of tears and stories as a small gathering of Roxy supporters met — many for the first time — to celebrate the dog's new lease on life.

The dog's transformation in three short days at the sanctuary was nothing short of miraculous. No longer shy, Roxy met strangers with a wag of the tail and a quick doggie kiss. She basked in the sun as Kindred Spirits founder and director Ulla Pedersen watched other critters get to know the newest member of their family.

"This is a complete turnaround," a startled Azures said, wiping away tears. "See what a handful of love can do?"

Roxy was a natural fit for the sanctuary, said Pedersen, who first met the dog a few days before at Santa Fe Animal Shelter & Humane Society. "She was frightened," Pedersen said. "She was trembling the whole time, sitting there shaking. But I could tell the she was stable and that she would fit in fine here."

Animal control officers with the city's Animal Services Division had picked up the dog as a stray, and her owners signed to have her euthanized. When Azures found out the dog was at the shelter, she enlisted the help of fellow animal advocate Claudia Inoue, and both urged the shelter to hold off on any decision until Pedersen could make an evaluation.

"The words that gripped me," Inoue said, "in Lily's e-mail was: 'I don't want her to die until she knows what it's like to feel love.' That's what got me."

While the gentle dog was not on the euthanasia list — end-of-life decisions are always carefully weighed — a senior dog's chances of adoption at any shelter can be tricky, said Mary Martin, the shelter's executive director. Add multiple health problems, and the odds worsen. While the shelter has good luck adopting senior dogs, it does take time and can be tough on the canines.

But Pedersen, whose sanctuary provides hospice and eldercare for dogs, horses and poultry, looks beyond those issues in choosing new residents. It's part of the sanctuary's subtle magic.

"Very often we get old folks in here, and they're not with us for very long," Pedersen said. "But you know they have known they were loved and wanted, even if it was just a day or a few hours."

Roxy, who received a thorough checkup from Mary Anne Schadler, a veterinarian and sanctuary supporter, suffers mainly from arthritis. Once she's stabilized and comfortable, the medication will likely be cut back as the dog rebuilds muscle tone. Aside from dental and hearing issues, which will be looked at later, the dog's fairly healthy for her age.

For the moment, Pedersen is focusing on getting Roxy adjusted to her new environment. Residents are introduced slowly, Pedersen said, in hopes they'll make buddies and find a mentor.

"The main thing is letting her find her place here, her community," Pedersen said. "She has a lovely spirit and is eating better, and has already gone up to the barn. You can tell she's just relaxing now, and she's beginning to get the hang of it."

Not all animals fit in well at the sanctuary, Pedersen said. Some have been too traumatized or neglected. But most blossom within the sanctuary's confines because they know they are safe, they are loved and that it's home.

Even among the sanctuary's poultry there is a camaraderie that's not common at other places. Pedersen said there are more roosters than any other bird in the enclosed poultry area, and yet they all get along well.

Roxy's not the only new arrival at the sanctuary. Pookie, a tiny dog blind from birth, is being fostered by the sanctuary's main helper, Karen Walker. The dog, probably about 10 years old, had been living in someone's garage. The owner relinquished Pookie, along with another small dog, to Lap Dog Rescue of New Mexico, an Albuquerque-based group.

Aside from the blindness, Pookie suffers from a hormonal imbalance, Pedersen said, which has created hair loss. Walker said the dog was a "little freaked out" at first, but is starting to relax and acclimate to its new circumstances.

"He's a sweetie," she said. "He dances like he's seeing with all four feet. It's really a prance."

Space at the sanctuary for the new residents always comes with a price. Recently, longtime resident Emmit Fred, a big black shepherd, died. And the sanctuary is still missing the loss of Salvador, a crippled pit-bull mix who died last summer. Roxy inherited Salvador's insulated coat.

"There is a grace in all this," Pedersen said, "as hard as it is, the loss and everything. It does open up a bed for someone in dire need."

Azures, who normally works quietly behind the scenes to help animals throughout the area, said Roxy's owners were indifferent to the dog's fate. When told the dog might have a chance at a sanctuary, one owner told her, " 'I don't want her in the yard anymore. I don't want her here,' " Azures said.

"During the last snowstorm, I just cried," Azures said. "I didn't know what to do about it."

The plight of resident dogs, as opposed to family dogs, is well documented, Martin, the shelter's director, said. Resident dogs are often cared for, but not much beyond the basics. They're the canines that are least social and often wind up in trouble.

Now that Roxy's officially become a "family dog" at the sanctuary, it will be interesting to see how she continues to blossom, Azures said: "She just wanted to be loved."