Sandy Ann, Sandoline, Sandra.
I had a lot of nicknames for you. Not that you ever came to any of them; you marched to the beat of your own drum. Even in your last few hours, as we tried to drag you into the car to go to the vet, you wouldn’t budge. Fuck you, assholes, I know where you’re taking me. The fact that we were all crying most likely tipped you off.
I should have taken you on more walks. I should have spent more time with you. I should have taken more photos. I already did all of those things, but now that you’re gone, there’s the flood of regrets that come flowing through my mind. I wanted to take pictures of you over these last few days, knowing they would be the last. You, all cuddled up, looked so cute and comfortable. But I know that below your fluffy layer of golden fur, laid a broken body in pain and I couldn't bear having the photos to remember that. The cancer took over you with a fiery force. Before we knew that anything was wrong, the sickness had already taken you over. We only had 10 days between your diagnosis and now.
It’s unfair, I know. It unfair we didn’t have enough time with you. It’s unfair that you died on your 10th birthday. It’s unfair that someone like you can become so ingrained in our lives and for you to be ripped away the way that you did. It’s hard to get over the image of your last days. No longer were we able to play with you. We would never see you again, sitting on your back legs and putting your paws up for attention. You did this recently to me, and you held on for much longer than usual. Little did I know this would have been the last time. Your spirit had been torn away and we learned the hard way that it was time to say goodbye. We loaded you up in the car, your frail body standing in the cold. You curled up in the back. I kissed you on the forehead and scratched you under the chin, your favorite spot. I patted you gently and was surprised at how soft you still were.
You made a big difference in a lot of lives. Sick people in hospitals looked forward to your visit every week, as well as making a second-grade class very happy as they told you stories. You were even the star in the local production of Annie. Not to mention that you completely saved my very depressed dad. And you rarely complained. You hated Wrigley, my brother’s insufferable dog, just as much as we did, but you were a champ about it. You were there when we didn’t know we needed you. You loved going to the beach. You loved long walks. Always bouncing up and down, with your furry little butt wiggling behind you. You gave good cuddles and kisses, only when necessary. You never barked and greeted everyone like they were a friend. You smiled all the time. It’s an overused trope, but you were a very good dog. I will miss everything about you.
Rest easy, Sandy Ann, Sandoline, Sandra.