This is how I’ll always remember Abby. Hopped up against the white picket fence in our snow-covered front yard, with that smile that greeted me every time I walked through the front door. There’s no way you couldn’t have your heart softened by that wagging tail, no matter how foul a day you had.

She was my mom’s favorite child, and one of the closest living links we had left to her. My sister and I did the best we could taking care of Abby, and when I made my move north she kept the dog with her. She was as close to her as my mom had been. That’s why I knew I had to be there when Shannon had to make the hard decision to let Abby go quietly and peacefully.

They had found an inoperable brain tumor, which had been effecting her health for the past few weeks. Over Thanksgiving weekend she took a sudden turn for the worse and there was little more that could be done for her — it came down to a decision to end her pain and suffering.

When I walked into that vet’s exam room, I saw that fuzzy little face and the wagging tail, and I found it hard to see why we were here, but after a few minutes I could see her sink back into herself. She couldn’t even hold down water without getting sick. She couldn’t stand and she was as sad looking as a dog could be. This wasn’t right — a creature that had been so good and given so much joy to us shouldn’t be made to be this way. I’ll spare the more gruesome details, but the tears flowed freely and they will still for some time. She was by far the best dog I have ever known. But after eight human years, her time had come.

September 30, 1997 – November 27, 2005

Rest in peace, my little puppy.

Tags: Personal

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