We said goodbye to Rain earlier this month. She would have been ten years old today. A decade with the best dog I could have asked for.
I first met Rain when she was no more than four weeks old. She was so small but would soon occupy a large part of my life and my heart. That’s the thing about loving a dog, and having them love you back—they become ingrained in you. Deeply and permanently.
I’ve often thought about how that happens. Rain never spoke a single word. I’ve never heard her laugh, or seen her shed a tear. And yet, she became a dear friend that I miss so, so much.
She would wake me every morning and show me where her food was as if I had forgotten from the day before. She would accompany me on countless hikes; keep me sane during the ups and downs of life. She was always up for spending time with nothing more than a tennis ball and a stretch of grass. She had the most gentle soul.
And her tail would start wagging at the slightest glance from me. I loved seeing her tail wag.
And when she lost her leg to cancer, Rain was still Rain. Just a little slower and a lot more loveable. One of my favorite memories of Rain was seeing her as a tripawd for the first time. She was just hours removed from surgery, and confused and in a lot of pain. But as soon as she saw us her tail started wagging and she hobbled over to be close to us. My heart broke and rebuilt bigger at the sight of her simple love.
She gave me so much.
Even on three legs. Even as her muzzle started turning gray. Even when she became paralyzed and she could no longer get up on her own.
Without saying a word, she gave me everything.
Goodbye dear friend. I love you.
I love you too. I wish I could stay longer.
I know. Me too.
