See you later

I've never been good at goodbyes.  It's hard enough to tell someone goodbye when you know precisely when you will see them again, but to tell someone goodbye and not know when that day will come, is entirely different. 

This week has been an especially difficult week for our family.  After the surgical removal of a massive 6 inch tumor from our black lab D's hip last fall, it returned in full force.  It first appeared as a small bump around Hudson's birthday.  The vet had warned us it would likely return but would probably be slow growing.  And so, we watched it, grow and grow.  In the last several weeks  it had expanded to break the skin, continually bleeding.  She began to act less energetic and had trouble walking.  Last week, while in Hutchinson, I took D to visit the vet who had performed the surgery previously.  He was surprised it had returned so quickly and advised that there was not much more that could be done.  The tumors could not be completely removed and would require continual surgeries to keep them at bay, operations that likely her 12 year old body could not sustain.  There was nothing more the doctor could do.  And so, we were faced with a difficult decision. 

D and Dan have been buddies since the day she was born.  A puppy of his childhood dog, Addie, Dan and D bonded from the start and have been inseparable ever since.  As friends in college I remember Dan emailing me pictures of D, meeting her on a few visits to K-State and even skyping (not even sure it was called that back then) with Dan and D so I could relish in her cuteness over the computer.  But it wasn't until we got back together in 2003 that I fully go to know D. 

When Dan decided to make the move from Chicago back to Kansas, jobless and apartment-less D and Dan landed at my apartment in Lawrence.  Problem was, my apartment did not allow dogs, especially of her size.  And so, D became our little "Anne Frank" as we called her.  She lived perfectly well-behaved and quietly in hiding in my second floor apartment, only slipping out in the dark of dusk or dawn.

One of my first memories of D living there with Marley, my love bird, and I, was one night as I was feeding Marley I left his cage open.  Suddenly, Dan was jumping up and down, taunting D to get Marley.  (Marley and Dan never did get along.) Overcome with fear and anger I slapped Dan on the back begging him to stop.  "She'll eat him!" 

I quickly scooped up Marley and put him back in his cage.  Apparently, I didn't know D very well.  Dan was right.  I was being ridiculous.  D was the most gentle, kind dog I have ever and probably will ever meet.  No amount of encouragement could have made this should-be bird dog attack my Marley.  She was amazing. 

*And yet, to this day this story remains in Dan's mind to be the time that I "punched him in the face."  Please note: 1)  there was no punch thrown and  2) It was his back.  So, if you ever hear him refer to this instance- this is the REAL story and the only time I have ever "beaten" my husband. 

D has been along for so very many changes in our family; our move to our Lawrence duplex, and then to our Olathe home, for the adoption of our Chihuahua, Daisy, and the addition of our Hudson.  Along the way she has continued to be the most loyal and gentle companion I could have ever imagined.  She was patient with Daisy as a puppy and taught her "big dog ways."  She laid by my side when I was on bed rest and soothed us with her snoring each and every night I've known her.  She's let Hudson crawl all over her, ride her, hug her, kiss her, and play catch, never losing patience or becoming annoyed.  Over the past two years I have found my relationship with her had grown closer, being at home during the days and spending so much time together, she had been a true friend and a companion.

Monday we said our final goodbyes to D.  It broke all of our hearts to say goodbye to such a loved part of our family.  It truly isn't the same without her here.  Neither Dan nor I can sleep without the sweet sounds of her snores and puppy dreams. 

She was one of a kind, never replaceable and will forever hold a very special place in our hearts. 

This isn't goodbye, D Bear.  We love you so very much and will see you later.  Save a place for us!









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