Abby Whiddon

Abby was born on November 4, 1997 to a Pomeranian breeder and was then sent to a pet store to be sold. For some reason, her original family couldn't keep her, and, for the next two years, she was passed around to about three different families. It wasn't until November of 1999 that she found her true family with me. This was when she was given to me as a birthday present. I first saw Abby at a yard sale my family and I were having. A woman showed up with her, and I fell in love instantly. We spent half of our proceeds on buying Abby from the woman, who had been looking to sell her anyway. She said she was looking for someone she knew would love Abby, and I, of course, responded quickly, "I'll love her," but, at the time, I didn't know just how true that would be.

Abby has been my best friend for the past seven years. I'm very close to my family, but my work has caused me to move away from my hometown to several different places (never so far away that I couldn't come home every other weekend or so), but Abby has been my companion and roommate and confidante on each of these moves. She was my family when I was too far away to see my human one, and she was my friend when it seemed I didn't have any others.

Abby died two days ago with me stroking her fur and telling her everything would be alright, that I was right there, and I wasn't going anywhere. She already had an unblinking death stare, but I choose to believe some part of her heard me, that her eyes were locked on mine, and that she knew how very much I wanted her to stay with me. I thought perhaps the biggest tragedy to come from her death would be not to commemorate her life, not to let others know Abby the way I did, not to be able to make some sense of her existence and why she had to leave so unexpectedly and when I still needed her. I'm glad I have found this site, so others can know her . . .

Abby was sweet. I've never seen a dog so happy to meet people, so happy to greet me when I came home each day. She loved people so much that when she saw a stranger walking by, she wanted to be near that person. If off a leash, she would run right for them, jump up on them, kiss them in the face if they knelt down. If on a leash, she would start barking as they walked past her, giving them the impression that she was unfriendly when really she was barking because she wanted them to be closer. She never wanted anyone to leave her, and she barked hysterically, jumping up, and turning around in circles when someone did. She did this every day when I left for work as well. I have supposed that her separation anxiety stemmed from people leaving her so much as a baby, her being passed around to so many owners, and, because of this, I have tried to make it up to her, tried to let her know that I would never, ever leave her permanently, that she and I are real family, and real families stay together. Ironically, it would ultimately be Abby who left me.

Abby snored heavily, and she slept by my bed, but I have gotten so used to it in the past seven years, I find it more difficult to sleep without the noise than with it. When I woke up in the mornings, she was always lying in her bed breathing that way, limp and warm, with the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth as if there wasn't enough room in her mouth for it. I loved to get her kisses even though her breath was stinky, and no one else could stand it. My mother said Abby had breath only a mother could love, and I suppose that's true. Abby was also beautiful. The pictures in the gallery don't really do her justice because it's hard to take good pictures of a black dog, but she was one of the most adorable dogs I have ever seen, with a beautiful coat and a perfect little pixie face, that she often cocked sideways as if trying to understand what someone was saying to her. I believe she often knew.

In closing, I would just like to say to Abby that you left me far, far too soon, little girl, and far too unexpectedly. You have been a witness to my life when no one else was there to see. I already miss you terribly. I just hope I made your life as good for those seven years as you made mine. Thank you for being my baby and being my friend.

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