Today my sweet angel from doggie heaven passed away. He was almost 12 years old. He was my roommate when I graduated from college and was kicked out of the bed once I met my future husband, which left him and me a little sad. He was the first thing my daughter laughed at when she was 4 months old. My son would follow in her footsteps not 5 years later. Sure, he shed like a crazy dog, ate poopie diapers, and refused to be potty trained until he was 7 months old (my son must be taking after his dog-brother), but I loved him more than words can express. He had the softest, silkiest long ears. He loved to lounge and have his ears scratched. He loved pillows, and would find the nicest one to lay until it had a nice yellow tinge to it that no laundry detergent could ever remove. In his old age, he would wake me at 3 or 4 am to go out and pee, and I didn't really mind that much. I mean, he offered unconditional love in return. Once he came to trust my husband, Riley would go to his side of the bed every morning and whimper that he needed to be let out. If that didn't prove how much he loved me, I don't know what could. So, in between my tears and multiple glasses of wine, I will remember that beautiful, fat, wonderful bassett hound that I got to be the mother of for almost 12 years. Rest in peace my sweet boy. May all the dogs that died before you greet you at the pearly gates and reserve a soft, cushiony leather couch with lots of pillows for you to lounge on for all of eternity.
Momma misses you.
V
