Dear my four-legged sibling,
Some folks are completely obsessed dog people. That’s not me. I’m borderline terrified of your kind, but when it comes to you, well, that’s a different story. When I talk about you with nothing but love and adoration, my friends are baffled. Usually, I curl up into an intimidated ball and let out a slightly odd shriek if any four-legged furry thing comes my way. This is the part where my friends have a hard time believing I absolutely loved the doberman named Katie that I grew up with for 12 years of my life.
Katie girl, you really were the best. You have been gone for just about six years and who would have thought there would still be such a hole in our house after all this time. My half-asleep stumble down the stairs in the mornings is no longer greeted by the most excited fury of commotion you never failed to create.
We still will never quite understand why you had a down right fear of the lawn mower and acted like getting rained on was something scarier than shots at the vet. You did have your wacky quirks, but that’s what made you the greatest sidekick to have around. Why on earth did you insist on sprinting around the house like you were starring in the Kentucky Derby every single time we let you in from your back yard visits? I miss those laps of yours; they put a little excitement in the house, even if I did take cover in the stairs you refused to walk within 11 feet of.
On my down days, I just really miss your little face, plopping itself on my leg, making me feel oh-so loved. You had the title of Doberman, which is quite ironic because the stereotype attached to you is that you were this big, mean attack dog, but your demeanor represented something between a teddy bear and a protective older sister. You barked like a crazy woman if you thought something was fishy, but in reality, you wouldn’t hurt a leaf.
Thanks for never letting Mom in on the secret that you definitely ate the majority of the cheese omelets that she so lovingly made for me, not you. You made my clean-ups from parading around the house, gnawing on cookies, a lot less work.
You had this amazing power that was able to make Dad cool his jets when he was a bit stressed or cranky. You would prance over to his chair, put your head under his arm and wait patiently until he took a snooze. You then followed in his footsteps, sound asleep on your favorite sheepskin rug within seconds. Dad loved you like you were his third child. You should feel super special because Dad’s standards for dogs are off the charts, and yet every time we walk down memory lane about you, he admits how amazing of a dog you really were.
I love you Katie girl, miss you loads and hope that someday my kid’s grow up with a four-legged sibling as loving, loyal and sweet as you were.
Lots of love and tennis ball tosses,
Taylor
