Going Home

On a whim I answered an ad in the newspaper. When I arrived you were there, the last of your brothers and sisters, waiting for me to take you home. When I decided I had enough of daily life, you ran away with me for a week in New York and to the beach in New Hampshire. Through a broken heart and through rock bottom, you were there letting me hold on to your body and cry myself to sleep. When the only thing on my mind was homework and finals, you were there to remind me to lighten up and have some fun. When I left behind the life I was living to live the life I was meant to live, I walked away from it all and you came with me. You were there with me when I lived in Morgantown, Washington, Carnegie, Greentree, Avalon, Shaler, and the move into our new house. When some scary and unwelcome visitors showed up at my apartment, you were there to lunge at the door and scare them away. The first time Greg ever came to my place, you were there to greet him at the door with your tail wagging away, while pretending to bark ferociously. When Marcus came home as a baby, you let him learn how you like to be loved with never ending patience. When Will came into our family, you welcomed him into our house and sat through all his hugs. Every ball I have thrown, you were there to retrieve. Every stick (or log or giant tree part) that was the slightest bit accessible, you were there to drag it out, ready to play. Once I came home to find pillow fluff strewn from one end of the room to the other. You were there, right in the middle of the fuzz, looking completely innocent. Through job offers and getting fired, you were there. When I knew my boss wasn’t going to show up for the day, you were at work with me. Each time I sat down to play the piano, you crawled under my feet to share in my music. When the Steelers won the Super Bowl and America elected its next President, you were there with me. I came home from work on September 11, 2001 very shaken up and you were there waiting for me. You somehow managed to lock me out once and you stood in the door waiting for me to climb through the window so I could get back in. Christmas morning, you are the one that helps me open my presents. On every vacation, you have been there. On an unseasonably warm day one January, the giant mud puddle in the parking lot didn’t stand a chance because you were there rolling happily – and filthily – in it. Anytime I felt cold or sick you were there to make me feel a little bit better. Anytime I felt lonely, you were there with me to remind me that I was not alone. At a whopping 80 lbs you were there, sitting in my lap. You were there with me - just the two of us - driving all the way to the beach and back so you could run in the sand, dive through the waves, and chase tennis balls in the swells of the ocean. This summer as I bobbed in the waves at the beach, you were there swimming steadily around me - ears alert, face smiling and bright. Every camping trip I’ve taken in the past ten years, you were there sleeping under the stars with me. I’ve walked to the bottom of The Gorge with you and back again. Every hike through the woods, every walk around the neighborhood, every trip to the mailbox – you went with me. I had always dreamed that some day happiness would be defined by the chance to play in the yard with my dog and my kids. You were there to bring me that simple happiness. As everything in my life has changed over the past ten years, you were there keeping your love the one constant.

I sat on the floor with you today. You felt my sadness and let me wipe my tears on your shoulder. Just like you have done for me so many times, I was doing my best not to let you feel cold or sick. You were not alone. You lifted your head and placed it into my hands. I held your head close to my heart as you took your last breath.

When I got home, I looked for your feet in the space under the door as I walked up the stairs. You weren’t there. I heard you moving around, getting comfortable in your favorite spot behind the chair. You weren’t there. I waited for you to tell me that you were hungry or you wanted to go outside. You weren’t there. Tonight when I crawl into bed I will wait for you to join me for your nightly snuggles and belly rub. You won’t be there either.

For the first time in as long as I can remember my heart is breaking, I am sad, and I am lonely and I don’t have you to bring comfort to it all just by being there.

I whispered in your ear, “Swim. I love you,” and I felt your soul leave your failing body. I know that you are at the great beach in the sky. You are crashing through waves and swimming over the swells. You are kicking up sand, jumping in circles, and going back in for more. And I know my life is better because I rode the waves with you and set you free.

Peyote
June 23, 1998 - December 10, 2008

"Peyote had a way of touching your soul, that is the only way I can explain her personality. " -Amanda