We buried Abby in my mom's backyard in Paradise in the early afternoon of the cold, rainy Sunday she died. My mom's husband Keith built a box for her, and we lovingly lined it with blankets, placed her body carefully and covered her with a throw mom had crocheted years before. We tucked Dean's old rugby ball, Abby's most recent favorite toy, next to her. We can see the spot Keith picked from the living room window, and I think that we'll plant some flowers there, and get a river rock engraved with her name, in the spring.
I'm surprised at how very difficult this has been for me, the depth of sadness Abby's death has brought. We both knew that, at 10 years old, Abby was certainly considered a senior citizen in the german shepherd world, and I thought we were more prepared for her passing. Dean and I had talked about how the upcoming winter would likely be difficult for her, even last year her hips were bothersome and she sometimes had problems getting around in the cold weather. During summer she was fine, but we wondered if this was the year we would be faced with the choice the owners of aging pets dread.
In time, I think that we will come to be thankful that Abby lived a happy, active life until the end, and recognize that this way is probably better for her and for us. As a therapist, it's what I always hoped for our nursing home residents - peacefully passing during sleep rather than suffering through a long illness. Abby was such a part of our daily life and our home, and the house is too quiet without her.
Abby was a dog filled with personality, with such an expressive face. She was a sweet girl with a fierce bark, but no bite. She could be beautiful and dignified, but was most often silly and playful, with a big goofy doggie grin on her furry face.
After 10 years as part of our lives, there are enough stories about Abby to fill a book. True to her breed, she was a smart girl, loyal and protective. In fact, we've been outsmarted by Abby more than once (though we could hear her get off the forbidden sofa as soon as the alarm sounded after an overnight snooze, we could never quite catch her actually on the sofa, nor did we ever figure out how she continually let herself into the kitchen closet to eat a tasty morsel out of the garbage can. She never revealed her method, even when Dean and I got into the closet, closed the door and called her name). Abby enjoyed her Kong and tennis balls, but her love next to her "mama" and "dad" was definitely cookies. She would do just about anything for a cookie.
Scoobey Snacks and Snausages were among her favorite grocery store fare, but a real treat was when Jay or Ms. Nikki would send over ham or beef bones. Of course, heaven was when we'd mistakenly leave out our food, and she'd get to feast on stolen cookies - the ultimate cookie. In her time, she's gotten whole cooked chickens, crawfish leftover from a boil and even a 15 lb frozen turkey, innocently left in the sink to thaw while Dean and I ran a quick errand. When we returned, all that remained of our thanksgiving bird was the little metal ring that holds the packaging together. That, and a rather bloated dog, laying in the corner.
We got Abby when she was 7 weeks old and we were in our early 20's. Truth is that we probably weren't ready to be dog owners. Our lives were just too unstable, with more changes in store than even we realized. Yet Abby had infinite patience with us as her owners. She tolerated the hours we spent trying to teach her to "speak" (she made funny sounds that almost sounded like "Marrero", the town we lived), the "balance cookie on nose then catch" trick, the crazy way Dean would flap her ears about as a part of the "Earlympics", often synchronized to music. She sat wearing Mardi Gras beads and boas, scarves, slippers, hats, a chicken bucket, motor cycle helmets and Schlumberger coveralls, among other get-ups, for photos. With the aid of a cookie held behind the camera, she became quiet the model. She had patience with us as we moved, changing her routine, the people she was around, the places she went. When busy jobs and lives had her home alone, she was content to guard the house, chew on her toys and wait to greet us. Abby may not have been the perfect dog, but she was the perfect dog for us.
Abby filled a huge role in our lives. She was the tangible evidence that Dean and I were making a commitment to one another, long before we were married, or even engaged. Her addition turned Dean and I from a "young couple" to a "family". She has been a constant in ten years filled with changes, when we sometimes struggled to find our way. When New Orleans was a brand new city of unfamiliar people and places and Dean was gone weeks at a time, she was the familiar face that prevented my evenings from being filled with loneliness. I don't know if I would have made it through those first few months of that move without her. Those who I count as some of my dearest friends were people from my time in Louisiana. In fact, I received beautiful flowers after Abby passed away from my sweet southern friends. Thank-you Nikki, Yvette, Monica, Danielle, Brandi, Carmella and Ms. Laura. Your gesture brought tears to my eyes, and I think Abby's the only dog I know who received a floral tribute upon her passing.
Dean and I will eventually get another dog. We're just dog people. And no doubt, that dog will be a loved family pet. But Abs was so much more than that. No dog could ever fill Abby's paws or the roles she played for us, but we hope we will find one to fill some of the empty space in our home.
Right after we found Abby's body, Dean turned to me and said "Don't worry, all dogs go to heaven". If so, Abs has plenty of room to roam, balls to chase and mountains of cookies waiting to be eaten. She was such a beloved and important member of our family. Though there will likely be more cherished family pets in our home, Abby will always hold a place in our hearts, as she was so much more than a pet. She was our Abby, and I will miss her always.
