We said goodbye to our last fuzzy friend, Tally, last night. She was almost 14-years-old, which is like 110 in doggie years. That is to say that she had a long, happy life. She came along shortly after Mom and Dad started dating. She’s enjoyed almost every milestone there was along the way. She ended her life as she loved to live it: A walk with Dad and with him by her side.
She was the youngest pup in her pack, and then in what seemed like the blink of an eye, she was the elder statesman. She was the alpha, in charge of maintaining the status quo. In doing this, she set herself apart, watching and refereeing instead of playing the game. But in the year since she lost her last pack-mate, she reverted a bit to her puppyhood. She would jump and play with Dad, excited for every morning walk and for afternoons working in the backyard.
During the past few months, she withdrew into the quiet coolness of the basement, spending most of her time sleeping. We saw less and less of her, and Riley often said, “I miss my Tally,” not realizing that she was there with him the whole time.
That is how it will be going forward, with all of our lost puppies. We will miss them, but they are always right here with us. We will not forget that.
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