Low maintenance, loving, perpetual-puppy. That's how I would describe my late dog, Sara.
I was eight years old and begged my mom to take me to the pound to get a puppy. After considerable contemplation, she decided that it would be a good idea to give Sissy, our then four year old Finnish Spitz, a playmate. We went to a local shelter and looked around at the puppies. They were all very cute but none of them were worthy in my eyes. But then, we passed the kitten/cat area and Aunt Jackie spotted what looked to be a puppy at the very bottom of the cages.
"That's either the ugliest cat, or that's a really adorable puppy..."
As soon as I saw her, I wanted to take her home and make her a part of the family. We were placed in an isolated room, Mom, Aunt Jackie, and me. And then they brought in this tan, pot-bellied little girl. At the time, I was wearing a floral dress that had a built in belt that tied at the back. She grabbed ahold and pulled. We danced around the room, her holding onto the ribbon of my dress as I laughed. Mom and Aunt Jackie knew that this little girl would be our new baby.
We took her home that day. Other the next few months, she got into so much trouble! From eating (literally eating) a whole shoe, a pair of glasses, and countless other items to pulling the stuffing out of the couch pillows, she was always the culprit as Sissy sat by smuggly. Eventually, and much to our happiness, she grew out of destroying things.
Sara was the first dog that I ever had from puppyhood to adulthood. She was my best friend through the tough times at home and she always loved to lay her head on my tummy when I laid on the floor with her. She was quite literally the best dog I had ever had. I loved taking her for walks and showing her off. She loved people even though tall people and little kids freaked her out a bit.
Sissy and Sara got along for the most part. Occassionally, Sara would literally rip into Sissy's ears when things got bad but they always got over it. So when Sissy died barely two weeks after I moved out of the house to attend college in 2007, Sara seemed to take it hard. She comforted Mom and Jackie while I was gone but she didn't seem to be quite the same again.
I saw Sara again in November 2007, for Thanksgiving, and it was so good to see her again. Eventually I moved back to California from Arkansas, and into my own apartment in July 2008. When I saw Sara the day I arrived back, she seemed old all of a sudden. She had always acted like a puppy. It had seemed that she never really grew out of her puppyhood...until then. I noticed that she was acting more her age and I told my mom.
About two weeks later, when I was just getting up in my apartment for a new day, my mom called me. She asked me if I wanted to hear the news now or later. I knew immediately that it was Sara and I told her to tell what had happened.
Sara had developed kidney problems when she was young and even had the occassional fatty tumor. As a twelve year old dog, she developed one small cancerous tumor, which was removed, but then her kidneys failed and she developed pancreatitis and anemia. It was so bad that she actually cried when she went potty. So Mom and Aunt Jackie had taken her into the vet.
The only way she could be saved was if she had major organ replacement surgery. Something we could not afford. So Mom stayed with Sara as the vet gave her the drug that stopped her heart.
I cried so hard. I didn't really realize how much Sara had meant to me until that moment. All of the memories came back to me: her first day home, her swimming in the pool, the days at the lake and in the boat, our long walks, playing fetch and tug. I hadn't even cried that hard for my cat, Angel, who had passed away a whole year before. I hadn't cried that hard for Sissy either. But with Sara, I sobbed...I choked...I cired so hard it hurt.
I miss her greatly and I will never have another dog quite like her. She will forever be in our hearts and memories.
I love you, baby girl.
-Anna