My dog was a mutt. An accidental mating between 2 different types of dogs. Now they call them hybrids but 15 years ago the were still mutts. She was suppose to be the product of a chihuahua and a yorkshire terrier. She had fur as red as my hair once was and she had the sweetess disposition in what could be the worse to times. She was for me the perfect dog.
Gracie only took up the middle of the bed leaving all the rest to me. She only snored when I was trying to fall asleep and she only rearranged my pillows when she thought I hadn't placed them right.
She didn't mind being cradled in your arms like a baby. If in that position and you stopped rubbing her chest she would reach out with her front paws and gently pull your hand back to her chest to continue the chest rubbing. She liked to lay on my chest and take a nap. She was the perfect fit and I loved to feel her heart beating so close to mine.
On the couch she would wiggle up just close enough to butt bond. As if contact would keep us together.
She listened to my rants about cancer. She held secrets that I told her. I looked into her eyes and I saw her world was me.
She loved to greet people in a calm manner and except her due as Queen of the land. It seems that those who meet Gracie fell under her little dog spell. She loved people but she loved me best and I find that particularly wonderful.
Now my bed is empty after 15 years of having her here. I don't like it. It feels wrong somehow. But I knew I had to be able to release her no matter how much it hurt me. Before the real pain and indignities befell her. She had to know that I would have never let go otherwise. I loved her too much to let her suffer.
So now she is as much part of the landscape of the yard as she was part of my heart. I can look out my bedroom window where so many times she laid her head to watch the day float by and see where her final resting place is. Don dug a true grave. Deep and quiet. Room for her and her big blankie. Moss and ferns surround her final resting spot with a large flat rock as a marker.
I know at some point we will be gone, there will be nothing left of Gracie and someone will wonder why that stone is there. But it doesn't matter in the long run, it just matters now. That I know that she is nearby and will be there if not physically in spirit.
May her spirit be free. Chasing the rodents and tennis balls. And maybe waiting on me. I truly want to see this special dog again.
I miss and love you sweetpea.
Gracie only took up the middle of the bed leaving all the rest to me. She only snored when I was trying to fall asleep and she only rearranged my pillows when she thought I hadn't placed them right.
She didn't mind being cradled in your arms like a baby. If in that position and you stopped rubbing her chest she would reach out with her front paws and gently pull your hand back to her chest to continue the chest rubbing. She liked to lay on my chest and take a nap. She was the perfect fit and I loved to feel her heart beating so close to mine.
On the couch she would wiggle up just close enough to butt bond. As if contact would keep us together.
She listened to my rants about cancer. She held secrets that I told her. I looked into her eyes and I saw her world was me.
She loved to greet people in a calm manner and except her due as Queen of the land. It seems that those who meet Gracie fell under her little dog spell. She loved people but she loved me best and I find that particularly wonderful.
Now my bed is empty after 15 years of having her here. I don't like it. It feels wrong somehow. But I knew I had to be able to release her no matter how much it hurt me. Before the real pain and indignities befell her. She had to know that I would have never let go otherwise. I loved her too much to let her suffer.
So now she is as much part of the landscape of the yard as she was part of my heart. I can look out my bedroom window where so many times she laid her head to watch the day float by and see where her final resting place is. Don dug a true grave. Deep and quiet. Room for her and her big blankie. Moss and ferns surround her final resting spot with a large flat rock as a marker.
I know at some point we will be gone, there will be nothing left of Gracie and someone will wonder why that stone is there. But it doesn't matter in the long run, it just matters now. That I know that she is nearby and will be there if not physically in spirit.
May her spirit be free. Chasing the rodents and tennis balls. And maybe waiting on me. I truly want to see this special dog again.
I miss and love you sweetpea.
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