On a Friday afternoon in early December, we said goodbye to our sweet girl of almost 15 years. She was a VERY good girl. I know every dog owner will say that, but it’s still the truth.
We picked her up as a puppy only a few months after we got married, taking a long drive up to Pennsylvania over a weekend. For the first hour of the trip back home, she cried for her siblings until finally settling down out of sheer exhaustion. We stopped for lunch halfway home, and she played and cuddled with us.
She was such a small thing as a pup, fitting neatly in my hand as though it was meant to be. Our sunken living room was deep enough that she couldn’t hop up the single step to get out. But that only lasted a few minutes until she discovered that she could hop on the bottom shelf of a ladder bookshelf and then up to the step.
She was our delightful goofball guardian. She would chase squirrels from the yard triumphantly but failed to notice when a duck landed directly behind her. At our old house, she would bark at passersby to let them know that our yard was off-limits but wiggle with excitement if they happened to poke their head over the fence to say hi.
When our little man came along a few years later, she was the best first babysitter we could have asked for, patiently watching him and putting up with all of his poking and prodding.
And when we needed extra attention, she was our cuddle bug. She loved nothing more than to nestle into the crook of our arms and nuzzle up to our shoulder. She took care of us just as much as we took care of her, and for that I’ll always remember her as the best dog ever.