I remember when your papa and I went to the SPCA to look for a pup and you threw yourself eagerly against the chain-link gate, barking and wagging your tail. You were never one to sit still. On the way home for the first time, you got nervous and went the bathroom in the backseat. You were nine months old and full of life. We loved you the moment we met you.
Over the years you were always my one constant. I’d come home to your sweet face and your jumping up and then off the couch over and over again. You were slow to train but quick to love. For every day that you were in my life, I’m grateful. Even the day when you darted out of the open front door, taking off at full speed towards a busy street, and me running after you in my bare feet. Or that time you got sprayed by a skunk in the backyard and we tried to drown the smell with tomato juice. You ended up smelling like an Italian skunk for weeks. Or when you failed doggie school. Or the time you bit one of my beau’s dog at the beach. Or all the days you curled up on the couch next to me with a heavy sigh, only to fall fast asleep and snore. Loudly.
I loved the way you’d yap like a monkey in the car. Your head stuck out the window, barking loudest at large trucks. The way you’d run in and out of the waves at the beach. The way you’d pull my arm off when I’d take you for a walk. I should have taken you for more walks. How you’d keep watch for squirrels in the yard or just lay out in a patch of sun. How you greeted all our guests with untethered excitement. Sometimes you’d work yourself up into such a frenzy that you’d run around in a circle chasing your own tail. It always cracked us up. You were bossy and mouthed off at other dogs, up until your final day. You longed to herd cows but settled for kittens and people.
You always protected me and made me feel safe and maybe, hopefully, I did the same for you. You were such a good girl, the best dog, such a joy in my life. Thank you for that and for every puppy kiss and wag of your tail, for loving me and for your sweet puppy feet that smelled like popcorn.
I hope wherever you are there are squirrels and bacon and an open field to run in. I will miss you and love you. Always, my sweet Loubear.
P.S. Fuck you, cancer.