My brown-eyed girl: How one white chocolate Labrador snuck her way into my heart
I lost my best friend yesterday. Just posting a collage of photos on social media didn’t seem fitting or frankly enough of a tribute to express how much she meant to me. I always had and preferred cats. I never thought I would have a dog, nor did I ever think I could love one this much.
I found her in 2008, on the bottom of a restaurant menu advertising a litter of ten golden Labrador puppies born on Super Bowl Sunday. My husband had been looking into getting a dog and a running partner, but none of the dogs we encountered seemed to be the right fit. Being 40-year-old virgin dog owners, with kids, we agreed it might be best to start from scratch versus taking in an older dog with potential baggage we might not be equipped to understand or manage.
We called the waitress over to our table to express our interest. She said she was keeping one male, but the others weren’t spoken for yet.
When we arrived at her home the following day, the onslaught of 4-week-old fluffy white puppies jumping on my black coat was almost too much cute to bear. Having the pick of the litter, I chose a calmer female pup the color of white chocolate and designated her as ours with a purple collar. I know now I picked the best one.
Lily, named by my oldest son, joined our family a few weeks later. We felt the same trepidation new parents feel when bringing home a baby for the first time. We muddled through puppy and potty training, questioning if we made the right decision. But she easily slid into my cat-forward heart and took hold becoming my shadow and loyal companion. She ran with my husband until she decided she preferred walking and doing everything else with me instead. She was a sweet and social dog that never barked for no reason and couldn’t even be stirred by out-of-control yappy psycho dogs, I avoided like the plague whenever I would see them and their owners walking in our direction.
When the pandemic made me a remote employee, Lily and I became even closer as she stayed by my side in my makeshift workspace around the clock — in the “office” during the day, in the evening, and snoring next to my bed at night. In that time, her health and mobility started to deteriorate. She would lose her balance occasionally and developed random ailments but still kept her sunny smile and disposition.
As we prepared for the move to Colorado a few months ago, despite being into her 13th year, she mustered enough energy to take a road trip across the country to meet us here. My new bedroom was now on the second floor, but I could still hear her paws clicking at night as she wandered back and forth across the hardwood floor.
In her last weeks, she barely moved from one spot throughout the day. It was difficult to see her struggle to lift her weakened back legs, lose her drive to eat as well as her ability to navigate the front or back steps to the outside without some assistance.
We had taken her as far as she could go. I wanted to be there for her like she always was for me. I held her head and nuzzled mine against hers whispering our not-so-secret language. As the mobile vet gave her a sedative, Lily panted her way into a restful sleep letting out a few hearty snores. I watched as the final dose flowed through her veins quickly taking hold of her heart and draining the life from her eyes, although by then there was very little life left.
Now she is up in the clouds like all of the pictures and videos I took of her during the nearly 14 years she spent with us. I like to think she is running around in the sun, back to chasing squirrels and fetching sticks. I don’t want another dog, as they’ll never be another like her. I’ll just catch up with her again someday.
I think about her last night here with us, after we dragged her across the floor on a blanket to shorten the distance to the doorway. It was a cool evening with a cobalt-colored sky speckled with stars, like the kind she used to enjoy back home in Connecticut. Sometimes on these clear chilly nights, in the fall and spring, I would catch her sitting outside staring off into the distance “thinking about life.” My hope is in her final reflection she felt she had a good and happy one.
#faithfulcompanion #labradorretriever #bestdogintheworld #Pets
