My dog died this morning. Her name is Yllas and she is a
beautiful German Shepherd who’s been in my life for over 11 lovely years. I use
the present tense here because, regardless of what mainstream religions and
beliefs say about animals not having souls and whatnot, I cannot believe that a
creature with a personality and life as vibrant as hers could just cease to
exist in some form. So even though I may not be able to touch her, or play with
her, or watch her ears perk up in excitement when she hears the word ‘sausage’,
I know that somewhere she’s able to run and play like she hasn’t been able to
for the last few months she’s been with us.
That’s not to say that I’m not sad, I’m devastated, I’ve
been crying like crazy all morning since my brother came to tell me she’d
collapsed and that it was time to say goodbye. She’s been sick for a while and
we all knew she wouldn’t be around much longer, but that knowledge doesn’t
really prepare you for when you actually have to watch her being driven away
and know that she’s not just going to the park again, but that she’s not coming
home this time.
But though I do mourn her loss, I refuse to let my every
thought of her be permeated with sadness, because ever since she was brought
into our home on Christmas day 2000 she’s been helping us create memories full
of joy right up until this very morning. I don’t think she ever met a person
who didn’t fall in love with her; even people who don’t like dogs, or don’t
like Alsatians couldn’t resist her when she turned her pretty eyes on them and
demanded to be petted or played with, and even if they tried she’d just nudge
her head under their hand or tap them with a paw until they relented.
So instead of curling up in my bed and crying into a cup of
tea like I did when I watched my parents’ car drive away with her 2 hours ago,
I’m going to smile and light a candle in her memory and think on all the times
she made me or other people smile and all the little characteristics and quirks
that made her uniquely Yllas, and I’m going to share them with anyone who cares
to read this because she loved people and she deserves to be remembered by
freaking everyone.
So here goes;
- The way she used to nibble at the concrete patio when she was a puppy; that little quirk is what made my mother pick her over her litter-mates.
- The way she loved sausages – I mean truly truly loved them – and how even the mere mention of them got her excited. Whenever we had sausages for dinner we made extra for her or she’d just look at us all offended and make us feel guilty.
- How she got excited when it snowed and she could spend hours just running around in it.
- When anyone was crying or looked sad, the way she’d just come right up to them and rest her head on their lap and just sit with them until they’re done.
- Her ‘hyper-mode’; when she would randomly start running around the house like a maniac, peeking her head around doorframes until you moved towards her and then running down the hall as fast as she could then running back, circling the lounge and returning to the doorframe to start again; this could go on for hours.
- She wouldn’t take no for an answer when she wanted to be petted. She would force her head under your hand (she did this a lot when people were working on the computer) or she would poke you with her front paw. When she wanted attention no-one could deny her.
- She was the tug-of-war champion. I can’t count the times she managed to pull people from their chairs and drag them across the room until they conceded their defeat.
- Her massive ears; bigger than any German Shepherd’s ear had a right to be.
- We had to keep making up new words for ‘park’ because she’d keep learning what they meant and get excited when it was mentioned.
- She loved playing with water. Her favourite game was having people spit water between their front teeth at her and she got excited when she saw people take bottles of water from the fridge, expected them to play with her.
- She didn’t discriminate. Sticks, branches, skinny trees, they were all the same in her eyes and she would try her damndest to bring them home.
- She loved having fallen leaves thrown at her.
- You couldn’t walk into a room with her in it without her rolling onto her back for a tummy tickle.
There’s so much more I could say, but I think I’ll leave it
there.
I’ll see you later baby-girl, but until then have fun
playing with Grandad and all your doggy friends who passed before you. No doubt
you’re already off somewhere taking advantage of being able to walk again to
get up to mischief.
I love you so much my beautiful little girl and I will never
ever forget you.
