Gabby

After almost seventeen years, this is my first day without her. She came into my life at eight weeks old, a Shih-Tzu/Lhasa Apso bundle of fur. She melted my heart. I learned very quickly, on the drive home, that she snored when she slept. Over the years that snoring would comfort me on countless sleepless nights, knowing all was right with my world.

Our first five years were spent in Seattle, where we often walked in the rain. She never did like being toweled off after a rainy walk. As I held her, trying to dry her feet, she’d squirm, my sign to put her down so she could shake like wet dogs do, splattering water droplets everywhere. During the housebreaking phase I remember one night walking back and forth in the apartment lawn, heavy rain, both of us soaked, waiting for her to squat and potty. When we went back inside, she immediately went into the living room and peed on the floor!

She was very mellow and low maintenance. She didn’t need much exercise. If we took walks and she was tired, she’d just lie down on the ground. I would have to stop and pick her up and carry her. I used to laugh and laugh when she did this. It was like she was saying, “Ok, I’m done.” She loved car rides and we went almost everywhere together. She would guard the car, fiercely barking if anyone approached.

We moved to Wichita in our sixth year and things changed. Until then, we had spent all our time together and suddenly she was left at home all day in a strange place. She was a trooper though and adapted as best she could. She had loved meeting new people and dogs, but in Wichita she was more leery and reserved. I did my best to help her understand that she was still my girl and that wouldn’t change. Even though we didn’t spend as much time together, that face always greeted me when I walked in the door. She still followed me from room to room in the house, and even sat outside the bathroom waiting for me. Each night at bedtime, she’d hop up on the bed and I’d kiss her head as I told her “good night and sweet dreams”.

Eventually we settled into a new house with Rob and Zoe. This is where a new puppy came to live with us, and then a couple of cats. She did not appreciate the new puppy at all, but in time learned to tolerate her. She felt the same about the cats. Gabby taught the new puppy the bark-growl game that they liked to play while I was in the shower. It sounded like they were about to tear into each other, so I’d hop out of the shower, wrap a towel around myself and open the door. Each time, there stood two puppies staring up at me, tails wagging, nothing wrong.

We moved to San Diego in our fourteenth year. By this time she was a pro a cross country trips. She rode on my lap the entire trip from Wichita. She was always good at riding in cars. When we pulled into the driveway, she jumped up, knowing we were at our new home, excited to get out of the car. She was still curious as ever, running through the house, sniffing all the new smells.

By this time she was starting to show signs of her age. The gray in her coat was becoming more noticeable. She was still active and followed me everywhere. She spent weekdays with me in my office, snoring away during my conference calls. I often found myself explaining the odd noise to coworkers.

It took a couple more years for her to really slow down. It didn’t happen all at once, the decline was gradual, almost imperceptible. Looking back, I see it. She lost her hearing and her joints stiffened, making walking more difficult. She stopped jumping up on the couch, where she slept while we were out. Instead she slept in the bed on the floor. She stopped meeting me at the front door when I came home. At first I hollered for her, and she’d come running. Then she lost her hearing and I gave up. Instead I would seek her out to let her know I was home and would take her outside.

She stopped letting me know when she needed to go outside. She did this thing where she would sit and stare at me. It was her signal. She stopped doing this and would often find a spot in the house and just go. I had to watch her carefully, like when she was a puppy. When she wasn’t able to walk down the four steps into the yard, I carried her. I knew she was getting tired. I carried her from room to room so she could be with me. I wasn’t ready to let her go.

I was lucky. We had so many good years together. I have a lifetime of memories. She was my first dog, my best friend. She filled such a big space in my heart. How was I to know this four-legged fur ball would bring such joy to my life? Almost seventeen years to the date, I let my dear, sweet girl go. I already miss her.