August 31, 2013
My best friend is dying. She’s at peace with it, sort of. Mostly she’s confused. She wanders around, staring at the furniture, her sisters of varying sizes and backgrounds, her water dish, me, my daughter, my granddaughter as though we’re made of bright new colors. I know she’s memorizing it all, absorbing our love and energy to take her on her last journey.
Food is no interest and the few bites that she nibbles and finally swallows too often come right back up. She doesn’t seem to mind. She just leaves the small bile-filled pile and lies back down to sleep. I so hope her dreams are filled with the same things I’m remembering.
H Her plane ride from Oklahoma to Florida when she was only three months old brought this bundle of sweet love to us. A wee three pounds, she slept most of the way on that trip, arrived refreshed and ready to meet her new family. That’s the way I imagine she will enter Heaven. Refreshed and read to meet her angelic new family. She will be happy to see her sister, her best friend and playmate, who died a few short months ago.
H The warm baths she treasures. She lay in the water last night almost floated with pure abandonment, exactly as she did eleven years ago when she was a puppy.
H The days she enjoyed with my granddaughter who dressed her in baby clothes and pushed her around in an umbrella stroller. She looked precious in her pink rosebud bonnet, never once complaining.
H The rides in my granddaughter’s, red wagon as they explored the neighborhood. She never once demanded to be free from her perch on a fluffy pillow, but considered her realm with a royal demeanor befitting her role as queen during their short treks.
H The lazy sunbaths, absorbing the warmth of the sun, the smell of fresh cut grass, and the giggles from the wading pool close by.
H The jaunty trips in her pink doggie stroller from which she surveyed the world around her, the places far from home filled with strangers and new smells.
H The shopping trips through stores in shopping buggies that fascinated her, never growling, but reveling in the adoration of the crowd.
H The trips to school to pick up my granddaughter that excited her into a whining frenzy the minute we turned into the parking lot and sent her to the window trying anxiously to pick out my granddaughter from the crowd.
H The slight wag of her tail as my granddaughter, a teen now, sits beside her and lovingly feeds her tiny bits of food and sips of water.
H The breeze from the car’s air-conditioner blowing her black and white silky hair as it thwarted the incessant, summer heat and humidity, and sometimes curled her into a ball if it got too cold.
H Her royal countenance in the front seat of the car—one of the few things she ever demanded—watching passers-by. None of that hanging out the window like a commoner for this princess.
H The haircuts and trims to keep her curls from matting and filled her with frustration.
H The lovely lavender and pink polka dotted bows for her curly locks, the ones she couldn’t remove fast enough.
H The Halloween she patiently wore a bumblebee costume to the fall festival.
H The doughnuts she turned, barking and begging for her breakfast and dinner and keeping her amused.
H The Christmas packages she tore through to find the Greenies she loved so much along with some peanut butter cookies.
H The icy, sweet popsicles she licked into oblivion.
H The cold nights when the best place to sleep was deep under the covers next to my feet.
H The fun mornings waking to a game of hide and seek with the sheet and blankets.
H The lovely lavender, faux-fur trimmed coat she pranced and preened in across the backyard and on walks around the block.
H The sheer joy of snuggling with her white teddy bear.
H The forbearance of following me from room to room and lying for hours in her white wicker bed with ruffled pillows under my desk as I worked.
My best friend is slipping away. Age and disease have come to stay. Hopefully, it will only be for a short while.
Rest in Peace my precious Hannah Belle Church.
June 30, 2002 – September 2, 2013