My dog died on Saturday around 5:30 pm. Actually, it’s unfair to say my dog, because during the school year, she was Andy’s dog. She was my dog during the summers.
It’s funny how I feel just a little out of sorts. In all fairness, she was just a dog — it’s not something catastrophic. Still, she held a place in our daily lives and now she’s gone. For a collector of the small things, one would think I’d have more bits recorded about Sascha. But I don’t. On Saturday night, Andy and I found ourselves reminiscing.
I remember having our hearts stolen the first time we saw her with her one blue eye and one brown eye. She looks just like Blue, Andy said, remembering his childhood pet.
I remember she drank a case of Cherry Coke. She’d pick one out of the box; shake it back and forth, back and forth; chomp down on it; drop it; and then lap up the sweet sticky spray.
I remember Puppy Love daily for the past nine years. She would bury her nose in my legs and snuggle up to me. It was especially comforting on those really rough days.
I remember celebrating her birthday always during the last week of September, never knowing the actual date. We would get Dairy Queen ice cream — she loved hers with a Milkbone.
I remember Andy bringing home blankets we had wrapped Sam in for Sascha to smell and cuddle with during the two weeks we were in Ohio after his birth. I remember the way she accepted him from the first time she met him. Gently sniffing and forever protective.
I remember all those times she kept me company when Andy was away. I remember the feeling of safety she provided.
I remember sleeping in the basement alongside her the first night. We were renting and dogs were not allowed in the house. We couldn’t bear leaving her alone, thus we moved to the basement for a week.
I remember her love for bones when she was a puppy. The bigger the better. She used to carry huge bones through the house and get stuck in the doorways because the bone wouldn’t make it through.
I remember . . . I remember . . . I remember . . .
We won’t be getting another dog anytime soon. With three small children, full time jobs, a large house . . . the commitments go on & on, it just isn’t the responsible thing to do. Not only that, but now I can go more than 3 days and not vacuum. Oh what will I do with the time?
Miss my dog, that’s what.
Unhurried. Finding the magic in the middle of living. Capturing a life of ridiculous grace + raw stories.