Let me introduce to you my best friend. I had the pleasure of her being a part of my life for 12 years. She was 14 years old when it was her time to go to The Rainbow Bridge and wait for me. I hope my Father was there to greet her, my biggest fear is that she is alone. She left me December 9, 2010. A month and a half after I lost my Father.
She had a thick sable coat that your fingers would just sink into when you would pet her. She loved to have her stomach and underarms scratched. She loved to kiss and if you weren't careful, she would slip you the tongue. Uck....had that happened a few times, thank goodness she wasn't a poop eater.
My Mom found Patty for me. She had dogs so we had to have a dog. We met Patty at her house where I watched her interact with other dogs. She was full of life, seemed to have a constant smile on her face. I knew she was coming home with me. Her owner hadn't planned on letting her go first, he had other dogs he needed to give away (he moved back home with his parents) and Patty was his first dog, he wanted to cherish her until the end. I understand why.
She didn't have a lead on when I called her over to my Fathers mini van. She jumped right up in there as if she had done it a million times over and sat right next to me. She never looked back to her owner, she was focused on me, as if this relationship had existed from the moment she was born. When we reached my parents house and I got into my car so they could follow me with Patty, she ignored them!!! She wouldn't even take a boneo from them. When they arrived to my house and my Father put Patty in her new back yard I went to go and greet her at the door. She ran to me and kissed me.
My Mother had said she never saw a connection like that ever happen, Patty and I were meant to be.
She was such a good dog. She loved Lauren and was her playmate for years, right up until she passed. I would come home from work to find the dog dressed up on many occasion. She loved her huge backyard, she could roam the perimeter and run up and down the fence with the neighbours dogs.
She touched the hearts of everyone she met. The groomers always said she was the best behaved dog. The vet couldn't believe how well a long she had come from her first visit, she had mange, was skinny and had no hair along the top of her body.
She was the best dog, ever. I miss her very much. Her ashes lay on my night stand table in a beautiful wooden box.
"Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives."
I feel guilt, though. I had to make that decision when it was time to send her off into her internal sleep. I know it was the right and humane thing to do but I still feel guilt.
Guilt was not listed in the definition of grief. So shall I choose anguish?
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