To my first dog,
Losing you was one of the hardest losses for me. I have been fortunate enough to not have many losses in my life, so I was more than just upset when your last day came. You were there for 11 years. That's 11 years of having you around for soccer games, camping trips, family gatherings, movie nights, and endless amounts of shared popcorn bowls. We could count on you to greet us wildly with whining and lots of tail wagging every time that we came through the door. We knew that if we left you outside when we went to go run errands, you would be waiting, sitting at the same spot on the driveway that you were when we left (the second row of trees down the driveway, the trees that mark where your underground fence is).
I say this with complete honesty and minimal bias, you were the best dog that anybody could ever wish to have. You listened to every word we said, you only ever bit someone once, you never crossed into rooms that you weren't supposed to (even when we tried to get you to when we opened presents on Christmas day), and you felt bad on the rare occasions when you did do something wrong. You played with us when we played, you sat with us when we relaxed, and you laid down in the doorway to the dining room when we ate because you knew that you weren't allowed in the room when we were eating.
I knew that your final day was coming and it wasn't easy to admit it. I laid on the floor with you and hugged you when you whined and cried because of the pain. I cried with you. I came home from school during my study halls and all of the classes that I wasn't behind in. I hated seeing you like this and, as much as I loved being there for you, I didn't want this to be how I last remembered you. I wanted to remember you as the dog that was in my prom pictures and all of my siblings' graduation pictures--the happy dog that rolled around on the freshly mowed lawn right after we gave you a bath. I wanted to have that family graduation picture with you in it, but I couldn't.
I remember the last soccer game that I brought you to. It was the day before it all went downhill. I had a ramp leading up to the front seat of the car so that you could get in because you had been looking really weak lately. As much as your body was hurting you, I knew that you would want to come because you loved car rides and seeing people outside of the house. When we got back, though, you couldn't get out of the car. I thought that you were just reluctant to leave the seat because you wanted to ride longer, but you actually, physically couldn't get out without our help.
I miss you, girl. You will forever be in my heart.
Love,
Your Family
