Today is our dog’s birthday. She would’ve been 11 years old.
I’m scared of dogs. Phobic. But not her.
She was my wife’s dog. But I was there on the day my wife went to see her for the first time. I drove the car when she went to pick her up. I brought her with me to work when she was too scared to be alone, and my wife couldn’t because her employer didn’t allow it.
Eventually, we became her people.
My heart still breaks thinking of the day we had to bring her to the vet. She was the best dog. Her favourite things were running over fields to fetch things and cuddling on the couch with her humans. She could do both for hours and hours.
Here’s a picture of us when we were young and had the world at our paws and feet.
Happy birthday, V. I hope you’re running up and down and field with I. by your side.
Miss you both.