Dogs DO Become Part of Your Family--A Tribute

 Oh Nikki--do you have any idea how much Garrett and I wanted you to come into our family? We begged and pleaded with Dad--and for the longest time, Dad kept saying "no." He was quite emphatic as a matter of fact. But he's a big softie too...you knew that. Either that or Garrett and I had Dad wrapped around our fingers. Regardless, we picked you up in August of 1998. As soon as Dad said "that's the One." (Yes, this from the guy who did not want you initially), we knew that you were to join our family. Our lives have never been the same since.

It's a wonder that you even lived past that first week. Between pictures, I see that we smothered you, literally, with attention. Garrett loved to carry you around by your neck and you didn't even make a squeal. You bore it lovingly, just as you bore a lot of things.

I'll never forget the time we got rid of you for six hours. Do you remember that? I was attending private school at the time and Mom was fed up with you peeing all over the floor. So we gave you to my 3rd grade teach, Mrs. Lawson. I remember her asking me if I was okay with it. For the record, I was not....but how could I go against Mom? Apparently, though, you found your way into Mom's heart even then because by the time Dad came home, Mom was wearing sunglasses and crying. She called Mrs. Lawson in tears. "Can we have our dog back?" That was the one and only time you have been away from us.....until now.

Oh the things we put you through in those beginning days. There was the time we attempted to have you be a sled dog. We homeschoolers like to make education come alive, so that's what we did. We attached you, and a long rope, to the wagon and told you to "Mush." You just stood there. You didn't know what to do. It was a wonder you knew how to "sit" and "stay" and "bang." But "mushing..."how we were supposed to know you were not the right breed?

We also learned that dogs aren't supposed to eat certain things. Let me see....you ate Easter bread (and gave yourself pancreatitus as a result); a LIFE car (and we had to wait for you to "pass" it); ham; macaroni and cheese. However, the three things you loved most where chicken, goldfish snacks, and peanut butter. Oh gosh, you LOVED peanut butter. I am sorry we got you so fat in those middle age years that you could not eat human food anymore. I wish you had had a taste to remember.

You were a loyal companion, Nikki. Between the three cross country moves and the camping trips, you allowed yourself go through many interesting photo ops. I think we have pictures of you wearing glasses mostly. Or the Christmas antlers that I continually made you wear--even though you would bat them off as soon as I took the picture. Inwardly, I do believe that you loved every minute of it.


As I got older, I loved having you by my side. You always sensed when I needed you. When I would cry, you often came and sat beside me. Sometimes, when I would leave my door shut, you would scratch and make me let you in. (Although you did scratch every door in every house we lived in =) When I went out of town, or to camp that one year, you sensed I wasn't around and you always greeted me with loud squeals and running around. The peeing on the floor in excitement you reserved for strangers.

You showed me what unconditional love looks like, Nikki. I know, I know, it is a weird analogy--but no matter how annoyed with you I got, you always treated me the same. Even when you snapped at me, usually because I was taking away food, you were quick to apologize. You were a dog who stood beside me for fifteen years, even when my human friends abandoned me.

But sadly, you got older. We all do. But dogs don't live as long as humans do. It first started with the seizures, which thankfully, seemed to disappear after a while--with no medication necessary. Then it was the heart murmur we discovered in January. Dad had always said you would die eventually....but Nikki, I wasn't ready for it to be August 1, 2013. I don't know if I ever would have been ready.

I wasn't there when you drew your last breath. God knew that I couldn't be. It would have hurt too much. I would not have been a peaceful presence in the room. But instead, I was able to say goodbye to you before I left for work. I just had a feeling that I needed to. And I was right. As I said those words, "I love you. And if you need to go, you can go," you knew that I was giving you permission to go. So you died in Garrett's arms, in the kitchen, facing the pantry. It all seems apropos somehow. I think you knew that you were surrounded by family that loved you--in a home you loved--in your favorite room in the house.

I can't believe you are gone. None of us can. I keep expecting you to be in your crate....but you aren't. I keep thinking we need to give you your heart medicine....but we do not anymore. We don't hear you scratching or barking that annoying bark that said "I want food" even when you were NOT hungry. And we miss it all.

Ginger misses you too. I know the two of you weren't the greatest of buddies. She really got territorial about certain things. But she senses something is wrong. I think she keeps looking for you....or she's waiting to sniff your butt after you have just gone to the bathroom. How can I make her understand that you're gone? I can't.

I have to believe that you're in Heaven, Nikki. I do struggle with believing that God would create something and have it just cease to exist. I choose to think of you with your "cousins" Wilbur and Sidney, Dad's old dog, Penny....even Cool Ears from down the street. But no matter what, I think of you as waiting by the Gate, waiting to see your family and greet us like the old days. Don't worry, sweet Girl, we're looking forward to that day too. As I go to meet Jesus, I want you walking beside me. But knowing that you are not struggling to get a breath anymore--it does make us smile, although they aren't as big as they usually are, right now.

 I might be an English major, but words are failing me. How can I thank you, Nikki, for all you meant to me? From the age of eight to the age of twenty three, most of my childhood memories have you in them....or at least in the background. Where do I go from here? How do I move on without you? Some might say you were just a dog....but to me, you were so much more than that. You were my loyal companion and a part of my family. A small part of my heart passed away when you did. I know the pain will lessen one day, but today is not that day.

But I know you. You loved your family so much--you would want us to remember the happy times. You would want us to love on Ginger a little bit more. You would want me to make peanut butter cookies and eat them in your honor. And eventually, you will want us to open up our home to another dog, another beagle--and make them feel as loved as you felt for all these years.

I hate to end this, just as I hate to say goodbye. Know this, sweet Nikki (the dog who developed way more nicknames than I could ever possibly remember), you are never far from us. We know you lived a long, rich, full life....we just wish it could have been longer. Thank you for the years, for the memories. Even this pain I feel right now--this feeling of enormous loss and the tears that flow--is worth it. Because it means we had you. And I wouldn't change that for a million years.

 I love you. Now go and play....I will see you again, my precious beagle dog.