She came to us on a whim. A trip to the flea market on a cold February day, the 5th of 1996 to be exact. We withdrew $175 from our savings account( a big pull on the pocket at the time) and questioned if we were doing the right thing. Would we be able to give her all she needed?
Her ears were long. They dragged on the ground and she tripped on them often. She stole our hearts and borrowed our souls. As if to give us a piece of time to long remember for all of our times. Little did we know that the journey we were embarking upon would give us some of the greatest memories of our lives and that she would be giving us everything that we needed.
And so it was, she ate a pan of brownies.
She ran across a busy intersection in Cary and was found in a local grocery store brought back by the guidance of a man in a pick up truck whom thought she must belong to someone in the apartment complex nearby.
She locked the car door on me as I stepped out of my running car for a bottle of water at a local gas station. The police officer was in for a real treat that day.
She, inspite of her dwarf legs, hopped onto a lawn chair and over our fence and landed herself in my neighbor’s garage; locked in there until the next morning.
She had a penchant for running away and exploring new areas as she was lead by her nose. She once landed herself into the walls of our dining room. Don’t ask. We have no clue how she did it!
She thought she paid the mortgage in our house. She talked back to us when we reprimanded her about being in the kitchen during our dinner.
She managed to get up to kitchen table level after a spaghetti dinner at my in-laws. Snatched a meatball which got stuck on her tooth. Got caught in the action and froze with her mouth open, only to have it fall to the floor where her brother grabbed it.
She could turn her head like no other. Should’ve seen her reactions to the words piggy ears, walk, bye-bye in the car, and park.
She loved other dogs and was extremely social. She had a way of drawing all dogs to her and initiating play.
She was a clown.
She was also called Dopey-girl Basset, Chubna brownie butt, Dobie Gillis, Seal, Loretta, Pillow Princess and Principesa.
She was our child. A strong symbol and token of Rich and mine’s love and trial in life as a couple. We learned so much as a couple from one little life. I often remarked that when you looked into her eyes, it’s as if you could see and feel all that was good in life. She was a reminder of why we were put here on this planet; that life is so short and you must play and enjoy and sleep.
I revel in her.
So when she was diagnosed 4 weeks ago with a mass growing on the inside of her heart, an unfounded cancer so diagnosed by our vet, it was just pure shock and sadness. She was just fine and then all of a sudden, not. And here’s a dog that’s ‘all heart’, kind and gentle, a dog who stole all hearts, and so it seemed ironic or perhaps fated in an odd way that she was given this condition to go out of her life. It was hard to understand.
We had her on meds, which to no avail, sustained her for a few weeks. She had good days. She had bad days. It hit me at night and I would get down on my knees by her side in our chair, and let her know through tear-filled eyes and voice, that I was so thankful for her. That she made my life forever different and good. That it was OK to go and that I would always love her. She was my baby and I loved her as I love my children.
And so it was, during TS Hanna, I let her out for her last of the evening relief, little did I know that she would never walk through that back door again. She would never bark for a biscuit from us again. She would never start whining at 10PM for a pig ear. She would never walk down the street with us or go bye-bye in the car with us again. She would never hump my leg as she did. She would never rub her mouth and nose on the couch. She would never curl on my lap again for a snuggle. She would never lick our faces silly.
I found her out in the storm 10 minutes too late. She had gone on her terms yet in a way, it was the terms I was praying for. Terms that didn’t render me the decision maker. She was full of grace to the very end. I just wish I could’ve told her one last time how much I loved her and kissed her God’s thumbprint on the top of her head.
She has left her pawprint on our hearts’ forever. She is part of why I am, who I am, today.
She is Hannah. She is the reason for my grief and I dedicate this blog to her.
S-
It makes me sad looking at these pictures because in hindsight, I can see the despondency and pain she was in and how she was working so hard to stay with us.
I think Henry knew. He’s the one looking pitiful in the background. Normally he would greet her at the door, excited to have her join him outside.
