The day after I left for Toronto, you passed away. Were you just holding on for me? Mom said you waited at the door all night after I left, and deteriorated rapidly the next day. You were doing so well the days before too… we even thought you’d last until I got back. Mom called the vet for an appointment that night to put you down, but I’m so glad you drew your last breath in her arms before they could make it there, as I had prayed for. You were comfortable, and you gave Mom and Dad one last smile before falling into your last sleep. I so wish I could have been there… to hold you in my arms and bury my face in your soft fur one last time… but I think it’s better this way, since I probably would have lost it.
I’m going to miss you so much… I already do. I don’t think it’ll really hit me until I come home, and you’re not there to greet me. The first thing we always did when I got home was to roll around on the carpet, playing. No matter how long I had been gone for, you’d always give me kisses and let me wreak havoc on your fur. I’ve been dreading this day… The house will be so empty and quiet… I will miss so many things about you…
…the way you always had a happy smile on your expressive face
…the way you could only turn to the right, like Zoolander
…the way you just sat outside the screen door waiting for us to let you in until you got fed up and barked, just once though
…the way you tried to get away from me when I started brushing your fur, but once I got you on your back, you’d stretch out your neck and legs and totally loved having your tummy brushed
…the way you loved chasing your ball, but your little jaws were so small you could barely grab it without dropping it
…the way your favourite game was to go nuts trying to get your ball out from under the towel (and how glad we were that your digging instincts didn’t extend into the garden…)
…the way you jumped up onto Dad’s lap the minute he got home for some quality petting time
…the way you liked having me flick kibble at you and you’d pounce on it as if it were prey
…the way you went nuts barking at real and imaginary squirrels, and near the end of your life when your eyesight and hearing were failing, you’d give warning barks into the empty backyard just in case
…the way you’d patrol the walkway to the back alley
…the way you’d try to hop over piles of snow, completely misjudge its depth and end up buried, only to resurface with snow all over your face, looking completely adorable
…the way you’d frantically look for Mom all over the house until you found her, even if it meant poking your head into her bathroom
…the way you only liked sitting on the laps of people with bellies because they were the most comfortable (so smart)
…the way you’d always try to jump into the backseat of the car, even though it’s pretty unrealistic for you to make it
…the way you used your head to push open Mom & Dad’s bedroom door, and that adorable *clunk* your head made when it was closed too much for you to push open
…the way you’d love having the back of your ears scratched so much that sometimes you’d end up rolling over in complete ecstasy
…the way you loved lying in the sun
…the way you could win over ANYBODY’s heart, whether they love or hate dogs (even Grandma!)
And so much more… Dad always made fun of me for taking thousands of pictures and videos of you, but I’m so glad I did… a huge chunk of my heart has gone with you, but I’ll never forget all our memories. You were the most gentle and patient dog I’ve ever known. You never growled at or bit anyone in your 13 years with us, no matter how much kids pulled your fur or tail, or how old you got. We didn’t even need to potty train you (benefits of adopting an adult dog!) and you never went into the kitchen!
Thank you for being the best dog one could ever have and for giving our family so much joy. I’m honoured to have been your human.
In loving memory of Mitzu | May 1995 – October 18, 2013