The Day

There are days you think about constantly, days you hope for and days you wish didn’t happen.

Today was the latter.

Abbey

We found you at Dewey, before it was the ASPCA, and a kill shelter. You were laying, your head between your feet, staring at nothing and looked very sad.

I told mom that you were the one I wanted. She said, are you sure, and with your sad face, I knew you were the one.

We picked you up the next day, you’d been spade and were given a piece of paper to get you chipped. We arrived home, showed you your bed and your crate and you went to your bed as if you’d been living with us the entire time.

We took you on vacations when we could, hikes to Mt. Charleston and Red Rock.

You loved the time we hiked Ice Box canyon as you splashed in the water, showing your hound dog roots and letting the world know with your bark and beller.

It was a few years before we had your little brother, though you became protective of him regardless of the fact he was human and you were not.

You protected him like a big sister, watched over him and we knew immediately that we could trust you with him.

As your brother grew older, he played with your ears and tail and you didn’t mind, you seemed to enjoy it.

After your brother, your sister came a few years later, and you were just as protective of her.

We took you on less hikes because your age and joints didn’t agree with you. We weren’t sure when the day would come, and when it did, I cried liked a baby.

You’ve meant so much more than you would believe.

You laid next to me when I was knocked down with migraines. You knew I wasn’t doing well, and were my guardian from the world outside the bedroom door, always lifting your head to see who’d come in the room.

We decided on your time because we knew that a few months wouldn’t be worth watching you suffer through lymphoma at 16.

When we meet you in the next life I will thank you for being there for me, my family and being the best dog I could hope for in any lifetime.

I’ll see you in my next life Abbey.

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