My parents granted the gift I’d been relentlessly begging for in December of 2000. I got my very own puppy, whom I named Sandy. She was a mix of Beagle-Boxer-Rhodesian Ridgeback, and I picked her out myself from our local humane society. I was in love.
After more than 10 years of unconditional care, countless toys and thousands of naps together, Sandy was put down yesterday. My heart breaks as I come to terms with saying goodbye, but I know it’s what was best for her. In just one week, she experienced multiple seizures and had zero chance for improved health. It was right to give her peace.
Sandy wasn’t my first dog, and she likely won’t be my last — but we had that human-canine bond that will always remain special. It gives you warmth, no matter how long you’ve been apart. It gives you strength, when longtime friends come and go out of your life. And it gives you hope, that there is such a thing as unedited, pure adoration.
As with any loved one, cherish the moments you have with them now. You never know how quickly they could be taken from you. From “puppy pants” to “baby face,” Sandy girl had a million names. The most important, and one I’ll remember forever, is “mine.”
About WittyburgSarcastic, sports-obsessed writer & FL native navigating SF.
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