We knew it was coming. You were almost 14 years old. You were recently diagnosed with lymphoma. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye. We thought we had a little more time.
I never imagined bringing groceries into the house could hurt so much. But the first time you weren’t there to greet us, to stick your head in each bag to see if we bought the right things, was rough.
Your mission in life was to have someone petting you. Whether that meant pushing your snoot under any unoccupied hand or interrupting a morning workout by laying on top of my arm, you never waited for the petting to come to you.
You were our two-lap dog. Our construction dog. Our grocery inspector. You were always up for an adventure.
Almost nothing phased you. Power tools, heavy machinery, campfires, thunderstorms, loud noises…none of it worried you. There were only a few exceptions: plastic water bottles, K9 Advantix, the hose, and the leaf blower. Everything else was worth a try.
You taught your sister to love walks and car rides. Your favorite game was keep away; you only wanted the toy if someone else wanted the toy. You never wanted to be too far from the humans (dogs were great, but people were better).
I hope you know how much we love you. Thank you for countless laughs and unconditional love. Thank you for reminding us what’s really important in life: long walks, tasty treats, and being close to the ones you love.
Rest in peace, Big Dog.
Hug your pets a little tighter tonight, because they are never with us long enough.
