She Was Beautiful.

Hey World, 

My dog Whoopie Lynn left our world after fifteen years earlier this week. 

Although it was a long time coming, it shot me through the heart. I cried into someone else's soup (literally). I cried until my eyes hurt. I cried until my head hurt. I cried until my body hurt. I cried because I left her behind to pursue my own dreams. I cried because I wasn't there when she probably wanted me to be there the most. I cried because goodbyes hurt. I cried because I wasn't there to hold her, and I cried because no one was here to hold me. 

 I was physically debilitated for hours – I actually had to leave work so as to wallow in my sadness while curled up in my bed under my blanket from home. Taking a sip of water was too much; so was getting fully under the covers. Gus, feeling that something was wrong, snuggled into my neck and we took deep, huffy breaths in unison as time flowed past us. After a while, the tears from my eyes slowly soaked into my cheeks.

Whoopie was my beautiful girl, just as Gus Muffin is my beautiful boy [and the reason Gus had to be a boy, because I could never replace my Whoopie Lynn]. Though my tears have (almost) stopped flowing, her beauty will live on with the many memories she gave me and the lessons she taught me. 

She was beautiful…the day I got her as my 10th birthday present, when she looked into my eyes and sat next to me during the obligatory “I just got a dog!!!!” pictures, knowing full well that these photos were just the tip of the iceberg.

She was beautiful…in those early days when she would hunt birds and flies, walking with the beautiful stealth typically found in wild cats. It was the wild dog in her, and I wouldn't trade her dingo DNA for anything. 

She was beautiful….when she decided that “go to bed” should really mean “say goodnight to everyone in the home by giving them a lick” and only after the task was complete would she put herself to bed. 

She was beautiful....when she arrived in the US after a flight from hell, and managed to love us despite getting power-washed for half an hour. Her love was nothing but unconditional (although I'm sure she questioned its rationality every so often). 

She was beautiful…when she raced around the cottage at a 45 degree angle on hot summer days with her tongue hanging out, just because she could.

She was beautiful…when she climbed next to you on the couch to snuggle. Whoopie taught me that sometimes just being there (or nearby) is enough to provide comfort.

She was beautiful…when she rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning to open her stocking, and looked into your eyes with pure joy when the People Crackers came out.

She was beautiful...when she knew she had done something wrong. She owned her mistakes, but also stood steadfast behind her convictions. If she had earned a treat, she wasn't leaving the kitchen without one dammit! 

She was beautiful…in her loyalty to me. I can never claim that she was perfect, or that she was friendly or welcoming to everyone [because those things she wasn’t] but even on our angriest days with one another, she would never bite me. She would purposefully miss her snaps, and I knew then that with those you love, the bark must always be bigger than the bite.

She was beautiful…to the very end. She pulled through almost two years with patches of fur, itches that couldn't be scratched, a shrinking bladder, lost teeth, and alzheimers so as to not leave her owners alone.

If that’s not beauty, I don’t know what is.

Snooze sweetly, my beautiful girl. Thank you for everything you were. 


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