December 31, 2015

Bones: 2007-2015

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love
 - Seasons of Love, Rent
As the rain pours down and the thunder calls out outside my window, the tears are flooding my eyes so I can barely see the keyboard. 
There are 8+ years of stories I could tell. Stories of the many pounds of food stolen off the kitchen counter, the many miles of trails hiked, the wiggles and the kisses. I could tell of the time she cut her paw at the park and left bloody paw prints in the snow prompting us to take her to the clinic for Dusty to stitch her up except she didn't even know she was hurt so she awoke from anesthesia angry with us. Or I could tell of the many hours she spent pouncing at the fish in the lake at the dog park in Stow, Ohio. Or how about the time she found out where horse poop, her favorite treat, came from and her eyes became big as the moon as she caught the steaming treat falling straight from the source?

I could go on about how she grew up with Hero and thought she was a small dog refusing to play with any dog her size or larger. Or the times she tried to push me off the bed and have Dusty, the love of her life, all to herself.  

What about all the trips to dog day care when Dusty was supposed to drop her off only to forget and look in the rearview mirror to see her big head blocking the view? Or the time I randomly decided to take her for a run with me and she loved it so much that the next time I dragged out my running shoes she danced circles around me preventing me from leaving without her?

The truth is that she has owned my heart for a very long time. She is my big lug. My hug on a bad day. The wet face after being attacked by her tongue. The lap dog that weighs over 100 pounds.

We have explored more miles of trails than I can count. She has won over every single person she has ever met with her gentle nature, loving attitude and sparkling brown eyes.
The truth is that I am really, really going to miss her. More than any written or spoken words can convey. My heart is broken. I know this was the best thing for her. I know we released her from the pain of the bone tumor eating away at her leg. I know she could never have lived forever.
But I don't care. I love her and I miss her so much that it hurts.


  1. God Sara, I am so sorry she is gone. It is so hard to lose your heart dog. I know. There are no words. Just a lot of love and hugs going your way. (And I shouldn't have read this post at work.) Hopefully she found my pack of four at the Bridge and will hang with them until its time to meet you again. Big Hugs.

  2. I'm sorry. There is never enough time.

    1. Even had she lived to 20 it would have been too soon.