Monday, December 20, 2010

A love letter to The Truest Love of All

Dear Dagny,
I'm not sure what good it does to write a letter to a dog, and to a dead dog at that, but here we are.  Honestly, though, to me you were not just a dog, and you changed my life to such an extent that you can never be really dead to me, either.

You were my baby.  You were my "truest love of all."  You were the dog my boyfriend and I sang endless singsongs about, we changed the lyric to every song to include your name in it, and we changed our life around to fit you in it in every way possible, too.

When I brought my firstborn child home (and every child after that), I made absolutely positive to come into the house and find you first, to shower you with love and affection, and to insist that you would never ever lose your spot in my heart.  You were utterly convinced - I know that!  You protected those babies - during walks, on the stairs, you stared down any other dog, cat or human who dared come in the room and too near to "your" baby.  The first time the doorbell rang when I was a sleepy new mother at home without her husband, I heard you bark in a way that I would never have imagined you could bark.  I know you would have protected us with your life if given the chance.

You lived in a big family - a messy big family! - with three children, 2 cats, 2 rabbits, 2 guinea pigs, eventually 8 chickens, Bill, and me.  Pets came and went - first a rabbit (replaced by a new rabbit), then the replacement rabbit, then the guinea pig, then our dear first rabbit, then our darling best cat (replaced by New Cat), and then a few chickens - and each time as the tears rolled down my face YOU were the only one standing or lying by me as I dug those graves, or cleaned up after them for the last time.  With that solemn look you had, you too said goodbye to the cat that rubbed on you and that bunny that moved with us through each house we ever owned (5)!  With that solemn look you greeted me when I found out I had breast cancer, when I lost my dad and our dear Sybil.  When it was too much for your sensitive owner you laid with me as I sobbed and you rubbed your face against me.

I knew losing you would destroy me, and so I tried to plan ahead, and I made either the biggest mistake of my life or the best decision ever (for two years now I haven't been able to decide which it was).  That is how we came to bring home Hope.  At the time we thought "Hope" would stand for our decision to keep moving forward in the face of the loss in our family that cancer was promising...and now I know that "Hope" really stands for the hope that I will survive the loss of you.  She absolutely adored you - you were her every-single-thing, her reason for getting up in the morning, the creature she loved more than anything in the world.  And though she was totally annoying, I know that you loved her too, and that you loved having two years of being a dog when you felt like being a dog, and not just being another mother of the Luckens!  I was a little bit right - to see your Luckens playing with her when they are miserable that their good dog is gone is nice.  I was also so very wrong, though - because I can see in her that she, too, has lost her very very best companion, just as I have.  She is my constant reminder that we can never be the same without you.

Thank you, my beautiful dog, for 13 years and 2 months of love and companionship.  I have never ever known a creature to be more faithful to me in the face of all my weaknesses.  Well, ok, your other owner is pretty good at that too - but he has a job and a life that takes him away from me and your job and your life was taking care of me.  What a good job you did!  When I wanted to die, the scruff of your neck and the velvety tips of your ears and your sweet nose brought me back countless times.  It rips my actual heart out of my chest to think that I cannot feel that scruff and those soft ears ever again, that when I have tears they will not be wetting your coat.

Thank you for helping me to become a mother!  Thank you for the dance parties - even when you had arthritis and were getting hard of hearing you would still dance with me every time.  Thank you for all of our long, long, long walks...and thank you for the short, short walks when I was on chemo and could barely get around the corner.  You ran with me, you walked with me, you waited for me, I waited for you, we slept together (for the last few years even in our own bed because you became such a bed hog and I could not kick you out or away from me!), we loved our family.

You gave me so much, sweet pup, but of all your gifts, the biggest one to me was your goodbye.  Thank you so much for fighting so hard to come our of your last surgery, for greeting your whole family one last time with happiness, and for that last and very long rubbing of your face against my hands as I sat with you.  I think we both knew our time together was coming to an end, but only now do I know how short that was and how hard you must have fought to get there to give me that goodbye.  I hope I never forget our last night with me sleeping at your feet instead of you sleeping at mine - as horrible and hard as it was, I am so glad I had it.

It was an honor to be your family, Dagny (D, Dags Dogs, Dogger C, Doggercina, Especiale, DD, precious angel, truest love of all, best girl)...it was an honor to give my heart to you.  Wait for me at our favorite path and someday I will be with you again and we'll walk endlessly through the beautiful woods of heaven.

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