Dearest Sir Dylan,
Today we say goodbye. You’ll be joining your sister soon. I know you’ve been missing her. We all have.
You were our first dog together and we had so much to learn about dog-parenting. Thanks for being patient with us, but gently letting us know when we needed to do certain things… like that day I went to bed to nap off a migraine and you let us know you were essential on our bed, especially if I didn’t feel well. You were right. No dogs on the bed was a silly rule.
We adopted you into our lives because Robert wanted a dog. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure at first, but you let me know early on that you were also an essential protector as well as healer. How in the world had I been answering the front door before you had come into our lives? Certainly it was only a matter of time before someone with a package, wearing a uniform or a hat (or a uniform with a hat), or a kid selling magazine subscriptions was going to murder me if you hadn’t been there standing between us, immovable. Once you knew you could herd Girl Scouts they were ok. By the way, it was a nice touch when you raised up on your hind legs like a bear and put up your Wookie arms in the long window next to the front door. One time a delivery person actually just threw my package towards the door from the walkway and ran off.
You’ve been extra lovable since we had to say goodbye to MJ. I just wish you had been comfortable enough, physically, to put that love into cuddles more often. But that’s the problem: you haven’t been able to get comfortable for some time now, and pacing is the only thing that seems to help. But those back legs just aren’t moving like they’re supposed to anymore.
Knowing when it was time to let your sister go was hard, but now with you, it’s been nearly impossible. You’ve lived a long, happy life with us. We were worried about how you would do without MJ. It hasn’t been the same since. You’ve been more lonely and depressed. So have we. Thank you for sticking around for almost a full year after her passing to make sure we would be ok. We will…eventually. You’ll both always be part of us, but we’ll keep missing you both forever. Eventually we’ll have more dogs, and we’ll love them. But you’ll always have been our first and most alpha of our dogs. Just as you walked into a pet store or dog park and ruled the place without having to do anything but be there, you ruled our hearts immediately. Thank you for giving us thirteen of your fourteen years and for being part of our family. You have given us so many cherished memories and all of your love.
You really haven’t been able to hear me sing to you for a while now, but here’s our song, one last time.
As a kid, I remember making construction paper ring chains to count down the days until Christmas. It was such an exciting time of year. My sisters and I would skulk around the Christmas tree and shake the gifts with our names on them. My mom made amazing sweets, and in great quantity. I remember the decorations and how warm the house felt.
caverns of my mind 