Goodbye Old Friend

Since becoming an adult, I have lived in three different states, held almost a dozen different jobs, gotten married, become a mother, and experienced both the best and worst moments of my life to date.

And yet through all of that, there has been one constant. One pillar of my life whose day was made the very moment she heard me on the other side of the door every time I came home.

Chloe.

My black-and-tan probably German shepherd maybe part Rottweiler or Doberman mutt whose right ear never quite could stand all the way up.

My first dog, who was readily underfoot when I was cooking, but would (unbelievably) leave any food on the floor alone as long as it was on a plate.

The dog I taught to jump up on my lap whenever I asked her if she wanted to cuddle and who would lick my nose whenever I asked for a kiss, but who would obey commands to go lay down if I needed her out of the way.

The dog that would only bark if she saw strangers approach our home, but who tolerated my toddler pulling on her fur and yanking on her ears.

The dog whose favorite non-food item was carpeting that was difficult to repair, but who would most often be found chilling on the cool tile of the bathroom.

The dog who hated car rides and thunderstorms as much as she loved chasing beams of light and eating peanut butter.

The dog who would let you know that she would be doing things her own way, but who came into our lives 12 years ago and will forever remain in our hearts.

I had to say goodbye to her today.

At 14 years old, she had slowed down a lot in the past year and recently developed cancer for the second time. Though I had wanted to try surgery again, it became evident that that wasn’t fair now.  It was too big and too much for my old lady this time around. And since she had always been there for me, I wanted to be there for her when she needed me. So I told her how much she meant to me, reassured her, and petted her until after she was gone.

My heart is in knots and the smallest reminder of my loss brings yet another wave of tears. But as I tell my son, she’s in a place where there is no more pain and I have to be grateful for that.

I just miss her.

And even though I’m anticipating missing her whenever I come home to an empty house, drop food on the floor, or just need something soft to snuggle, I’m convinced that I don’t think I know just how much she affected my daily life. How can you know when you’ve never been without?

One thing I do know is why dogs are called faithful friends. It’s just what they are.

Love you old lady.