It's so hard to say good-bye

She  was two years old in 1997 in when I first saw her in a small cage just outside the rescue shelter. I circled the block to see her again because I was "just looking". But when I saw those big  brown eyes , I knew she was  going home with me.  At the time, we were both in need of rescue. She was timid, shy and unfortunately prone to car sickness. Over the years she outgrew her motion sickness. From that point on, riding anywhere in the car became the highlight of her day. She knew which places dispensed dog treats, and slobbered all the way to Starbucks, the  bank and the cleaners with doggy anticipation.

She was our family pet, but she was my dog. When I was home, she followed me everywhere just so she could be in the same room with me. And yes, we had our sappy little rituals. She had to go outside at 5:30 every morning  just so she could sniff the usual spots in the yard. Because when  you are a dog, you just never know who may have stopped by to pee on the mailbox between late night and early morning. After  morning rounds, she would get up in the chair with me and   roll over onto her on her back while I read the newspaper. All 75 pounds of her! I could read the paper and scratch her at the same time. If reading  the paper received more attention than scratching, she would swat the paper with a paw to remind me about the priority of the two activities.

 She rode in the back seat of my pick up and hung her head over my shoulder so she could experience the full effect riding in the truck with me. I knew people often stared, but I didnt care.  She would also nuzzle the back of my head when it was time to hang her head out the back window.  She learned  commands of “sit” “stay” and “heal” in 45 minutes. From that time forward, she could be walked and managed without a leash. We never had to discipline her. She instinctively knew the rules of engagement.  Just raising your voice or pointing your index finger in her direction would upset her to the point of having to “make up”. Even though she loved to snuggle, we had a rule she could not sleep in the bed with us. That rule lasted for one day, and she slept with us for the next ten years. We also took all those goofy dog photos that make non pet people cringe including reindeer ears at Christmas, photos with Santa at Petsmart, and others to embarrassing to admit. She was a part of our family.

Regardless of the day or what I wore, she always knew if I was going to work, or if the trip to the garage involved errands.  She would position herself by the garage door with those big brown eyes campaigning silenlty to be included in the errand.

As the years passed, she became more loving  but less active. When we were told three weeks ago that her persistent  limp was actually the result of  severe and aggressive cancer, we were devastated.We were crushed when the Vet said we could expect debilitating pain and suffering in as little as two weeks. We did the the only thing we could do. It was so hard

But our family  received 17 years of  unfailing love, companionship and devotion. She was our sweetheart. When the time came, she just slipped away into a deep and forever sleep, I know it’s silly to say, but I feel like a part of me is gone. We had photos with her on her last day. Our son held her with a pillow that said,”I wish I could be the person my dog thinks I am”. That only reinforced the magic of our mutual bond. Even now, I  still walk into our home half expecting and half hoping to  see her looking around one of  the corners of her favorite spots. It’s so hard to say good-bye.

"Goldie" was 17 years young when she left. She is forever gone, but forever present.