A Letter To Houston
Rescued from a shelter in 2013, Houston aka Huey lived until 2023. He has my heart forever.
Dear Houston,
You came into my life as Woodstock, a big yellow dog with a need for a home in that Topeka, Kansas shelter. Initially, when we met, you barked at me when I tried to pet you. I walked over to ask about another dog but ended up having a meet-and-greet with you. They say horses pick their people. I think dogs do too and I’m so grateful you picked me. Twenty minutes later you were in my car. We stopped at a PetSmart to get food, water bowls, leashes, and a dog tag. A little boy asked to pet you and immediately, gently, grabbed your tail. You turned around and licked his face and that is when I knew you were the most loving dog in the whole world. Around an hour later, back at the Lawrence apartment, while I was pondering crate life vs free range with my dad on the phone saying, “I’m not sure if he will want to sleep in the crate or in my room.” You were already fast asleep, snoring on my pillows. It was my second picture of you ever, and to this day, makes me tear up at how innocent and kind you were from the very start.
Ultimately, you healed parts of me that I didn’t even know were broken.
At first, my parents thought I was crazy for adopting a big dog. I was alone in Kansas with a new job and no friends. But you became my best friend, my roommate, my co-worker, and the love of my life. My pony dog when Henry died because you were so big and silly. When I had bad days, I would walk in from work and slide down the door in tears. You would immediately begin to lick my face and rub your baby front teeth on my chin until I stopped. When we had great days, we would play Frisbee in Centennial Park. We met Jen with her two dogs Molly and Tank a few times. I took you to brunches and sleepovers and everything else with me. Ultimately, you healed parts of me that I didn’t even know were broken. I remember the first few months like they were yesterday.
We went on morning runs and you kept pace like it was no big deal running 7:30 splits for 5 or 6 miles. We walked the Lawrence Country Club golf course at sunset and went to the truck office outside Topeka together. This is where you found your love for those frozen ice cream dog treats called Frosty Paws. They had a recall on them at one point so we stopped eating those, but you loved eating your dog ice cream while I ate my own. I gave my boss the excuse that the truck yard at night was sketchy, which is why you came to work. The real reason was I couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you at home. Then, you came to the barn. Within hours you were officially a barn dog, with no leash, sitting ringside and so excited to play as soon as I was back on the ground off my horse. You almost tried to play with that horse but ran out of the arena when he came at you. I think you learned pretty fast how big the horses were because you were a bit more careful after that. At a few barns, we even called you, Lifeguard Huey because you’d sit beside the ring and watch all the riders. You made sure I had a safe ride, and you would chaperone me back into the barn as if leading me to safety. Every time something went wrong you would stand at the gate to see if your assistance was needed. And you loved running in the sand and playing fetch with just about anything from a ball to a mound of sand.
By August of that summer, I adamantly decided it was time to get my MBA and we moved to Florida to begin graduate school together at the University of South Florida. We went walking on Bayshore Boulevard and you would try to get in the water until you saw the dolphins. On lunch breaks most Tuesdays and Thursdays you would swim at the dog beach while I studied between school and hosting at Boca. You even came to my 5K called Paint the Run and I have pictures of you trying to lick the sweat and paint off my face in the little backyard with the banana tree in that Tampa condominium. You attended Gasparilla and met a cute little poodle dog named Finny whom you’d meet again when we moved to Austin in 2021. You found ways to make things funny and simple, even when I felt like things were catastrophic. In graduate school, I felt poor, lost, and dumb. You were so patient and kind to me over those two years. I remember the accident, when I almost lost you and that army wife of an angel helped me pick you up in that black SUV. We saved you from the cars and the hospital rushed you into surgery to save your leg that had been broken. When you were in surgery, I realized how much I didn’t deserve you.
I spent the rest of our lives together proving to you that you were my special gift and I would need to protect you from that point forward with all my being.
In the winter, you went to live with my parents, and I think they learned a little more about me by loving you. You kept them on a tight walking schedule, but you also showed them how to play. You drove my mom nuts when you’d sneak up on the counter and eat all the cat food. I was glad you were there for my dad; I think he needed you at that point as much as you needed him in his own battles with cancer and other life things. It became insanely clear how much you loved my parents when we met in Columbus, Ohio to bring you back to our new home of Baltimore in that hotel. You saw me and then tried to crawl in their laps and never leave. That was the evening I may have gotten a little jealous that you loved my parents more than me, but I accepted that it was my turn to show you the kind of love you deserved now that I had money and a job to help us get a better life (again).
“We should be so lucky as to be loved as well as Huey.”
When I look at the last eleven years, I’ve come to believe that healed my entire family including Craig. Each family member had a special relationship with you. Uncle Andy loved you so much that he would send you gifts for Christmas and drive home to see you almost every weekend from Springfield. You even got to meet Grandma Rosemary who adored you and would say, “We should be so lucky as to be loved as well as Huey.” She knew what we shared and the other morning after you left us, the psychic said she saw you with Rosemary and my grandpa Hal, which was a picture in my imagination that let me know you were safe.
Our walks in Baltimore at sunrise on Goucher College’s campus through those little trails and fields were so beautiful. We’d play fetch and frisbee. You’d often pride yourself for finding the biggest tree branch and proceed to carry it with you down the hill, tearing off branches to try and make it lighter after seeing me do that several times. You were really smart and modeled my behavior, it always made me laugh how you would try to copy what I did. Our apartment was only 5 minutes from the office, so I’d come home almost every day for lunch and let you out for a few quick rounds of fetch. There was always a white cat outside trying to play with you. I have one picture we got with him. You were always so gentle and kind with him and all the other animals. I loved that about you. You were a ray of sunshine walking around the world. I remember our long trail walks in Towson where you’d swim and play at the dog parks, sometimes humping the other dogs a little too much. You loved to swim and boy did you swim in oceans and rivers and lakes and ponds and even muddy puddles. It was hilarious how quickly you’d look at me with that playful glance before darting into the muddiest, coldest water you could find. The best part was the zoomies you’d get when I went to dry you off with the towel. It reminds me of when I first got you and you’d try and get in the shower with me. You loved being toweled off to dry, I’d put the towel over your face and when I pulled it back, it was like looking at a little kid getting out of the bathtub. You were the most adorable with your cute pink nose and bright brown eyes. I could never stay mad at you even when you got in the muddiest situations because you did everything with so much joy and innocence.
Baltimore is where you became my rock, Houston. Between the cervical cancer scare we faced, a not-good boyfriend situation, or the tough days at work — you were always there to bring joy into my life. I’d take you to daycare every morning Monday-Friday and pick you up after work. One day you started protesting going in so I realized you wanted a walker, and we changed your routine so you could get more love, as you should.
All the walkers loved you, some of them even reached out when you passed away to tell me how much they cherished you.
We would have the best snow days with you jumping through deep snow for the snowballs or other squeaky balls. I always admired your passion for colder weather, but I’m pretty sure you knew I hated the cold. I probably should have just gotten a bigger winter coat like Lindl said a long time ago. But despite the cold, I have so many amazing videos of you jumping and running through the snow like it's heaven on earth. During the last ice storm in Dripping Springs, you navigated that winter wonderland and even babysat the little Aussie named Fergus when our friend Savannah ran out of power. I hope you are getting to play in all the snow wherever you are.
Huey, when we moved from Baltimore to Dallas, I knew that adopting you was the single best decision I’d ever made. We went through our 25’s single phase together. You were so loyal and guarded me from any boys you didn’t think were the right one. I even had to break up with two guys after the first few dates because you wouldn’t let them stay. It was barking them out the door or the sad face you made when I’d hang out with them, that I knew that you were the one true love I would always prioritize.
One exciting memory of our early time in Dallas was introducing you to your cousin Porkchop. I will never forget Andy & I were out for dinner and I got a text from my neighbor Tammy asking me if a dog was dying in my apartment. Only to come home and find you lying next to Porkchop in his crate, Pork was screaming his ass off to be let out and you were just lying there trying to soothe his bothered spirit. You always tried to make everything better, even when things were a little unhinged. You and Porky had a lot of fun in your younger years running around Brittany Woods Middle School, the Balson house, and the dog park at White Rock Lake with the huge dog water area where you would swim for hours if I let you.
Our walks in Dallas on the Katy trail and your muddy swims in Riverchon Park are some of my favorite memories. Even with the fire ant scare, when I was throwing your frisbee while standing on a fire ant hill which led to a huge allergic reaction plus an eppy pen. What a week that was! Or the many brunches at Breadwinners with Macy and her dog Aspen. We took you everywhere with us. The only place I didn’t take you was the office and gym, but we went together to events like the ZiegenBock Goat Run at the Stockyards or the 5K Michelob ULTRA activations nearby. I brought you to run clubs and bars and coffee shops. We’d sit outside at the fire pit while you played in the dog park at the Brady, even getting into a weird rock phase where you thought rocks were balls and would try to dig them up to play fetch.
You made so many people laugh.
The amount of fetch we played and Katy Trail Icehouse fries we ate were by the thousands. It was about a year and a half into living at the Brady, that you and I moved into that smaller 1-bedroom apartment, and you fully took over as the man of the house. You slept upside down on couches, refused not to taste test any meal I cooked, and began to demand your hourly treats from the concierge team. Everyone would see you running into the lobby and jumping with your front two feet onto the counter for treats and laugh hysterically. You made so many people laugh. The entire property management team knew you and we even snuck you up to swim in their pool once, which I’m pretty sure could have gotten Macy & I kicked out, but you loved it. The funniest video is when Rachel got her puppy Murphy, and you made it very clear that you were not sharing your toys or my love with any other dog. You tried to sit on him, bark him away, anything to keep the puppies away from me. I loved how jealous you got any time I tried to even show another dog affection. You would start barking so loud that it forced me to laugh and stop and turn all my attention back to you. You would even growl at some of my Zoom meetings if they took too long or were on subjects you knew I hated.
I also know that you totally tricked him into letting you swim in a huge lake a few times.
After about a year on our own in Dallas, we met Craig, and shortly after, he offered to babysit you while I was traveling to New York for work. The dog walker sent me a text letting me know you were acting strange because “Houston refused to go for his long walk because he didn’t want to leave his friend in the apartment.” I could never quite figure out your and Craig’s entire relationship, but I know the mutual love and respect were real. I also know that you totally tricked him into letting you swim in a huge lake a few times. One time, Craig lost his wallet trying to run after you as you jumped into the pond like Free Willie and the two of you spent hours searching for his wallet after he finally got you bathed. The police found his wallet and called me, my business card was the only contact they could find to reach him. We all cooked dinner together, walked on the Katy trail at night, and would sit out on the patio playing music and giving you treats. In our apartment whenever I’d do yoga you’d stretch and then try to lick my face in any upside-down pose. It was such a fun time as we went through all those life changes. You cuddled with me so much that year, it was the best.
By December we were on to our next destination, New York City. You flew first class with me a few times and were a total pro! I hated NYC, but you found so many ways to make me find the good in it. Between the west side park by the water where you bounded like a deer through a meadow to our morning strolls to Joe’s Coffee where we’d walk Central Park sharing coffee and croissants. Sometimes, we walked with a big Bernese Mountain dog named Puck and you guys loved going to the park and exploring for hours.
You flew first class with me a few times and were a total pro at the entire process!
Most of the time, it was just you and me, discovering the Upper West Side one mile at a time. At night sometimes you would lay in my bed and snuggle, and waking up to your cute face at sunrise was the most beautiful view of all. In the city, you howled on the streets when you heard fire engines, and you brought your stuffed dinosaur everywhere. Everyone thought it was the most adorable thing. Once you even scared the living hell out of me when you bounded onto the 22nd-floor elevator and the doors closed before I could get on. I walked almost every floor before finding you in the lobby, waiting for treats of course. You ran into my arms knowing how crazy that all was and we went for our walk while I tried to think of the nine lives you continued to have with me.
When we couldn’t go for long walks, we got into the habit of playing hide and seek or couch fetch. I’d toss the ball slightly up and you’d dive into the couch covers next to me to find it. Or I would look at you with a silly glare and take off into the kitchen or bedroom to hide. You would get really close to finding me, then I’d move slightly, but once you found me, you’d get the biggest smile, bark joyfully and come rushing into me like a big ball of love. Whenever we had an island kitchen counter we could run circles around playing hide and seek for hours together was the best. That’s something I am going to miss the most because it was our fun games over the years especially as our houses got bigger, where we could really be goofy together. Craig could always tell when we were going to break out into our game, and he would roll his eyes at us like we were children and he wasn’t in on the secret.
After two years in NYC, we went back to Texas where the first thing off your last plane ride was a BIG swim in Macy’s parents' swimming pool with Aspen the golden retriever. We got a bigger place in Dallas and were able to still live on the Katy Trail and when COVID hit, I got to spend more time with you than I imagined, and it was the very best. We made dinner together, watched TV, read books, drank wine, and walked Uptown with Rachel. You always got so excited whenever we’d run into people I knew and said, “Oh look, there’s your friend!” You would immediately get so excited and wag your tail and run up to anyone within an arm’s length distance. Even our Rover Family with Ranger in Highland Park loved having you over to swim and play with their dogs and kids. There were so many people in the world that cared for you and loved you, they were all your friends.
In Dallas one winter, we had a huge ice storm and you stayed on the living room floor at Craig’s parents’ house cause we had no power or heat, that is when you met Walt’s dog Blue and realized that there was another Lab that loved the snow just as much as you. But Blue was an outside dog, and you were far from that and made sure to rush back inside from the cold and into the kitchen to see what kind of snacks Carolyn was making you. That made me laugh mostly because Craig’s family didn’t realize that you were basically a human.
After the freeze, we moved to Austin. This was the first time I was able to make good on my promise and we got you a yard to play in. However, you were so unaccustomed to being outside without me that you never did stay out there long without me in your sight. And most times, if you couldn’t see me you would begin to bark so loud and obnoxiously, it was as if I offended you. The neighbor Jim always pet you and the dog Rosie down the street never could quite figure you out. Our walks around the church and our frisbee games in that huge grass field behind the house were epic.
It was May of 2021 when we bought Carter and spent more weekends between home and the barn because we couldn’t really afford to do anything else. So, watching you play became my biggest joy. You loved just hanging in the living room or playing with your chew chews to keep us entertained, throwing them around and making us laugh. You even went to the Pin Oak horse show with me where we won Reserve Champion on my dad’s birthday that year. We bought you that fancy collar that saved your life again when McGraw bit you for trying to smell Pony Noel’s food. I pulled McGraw off of you so hard that his dog collar went flying and so did he, but I knew protecting you was more important than my own fear of getting bit. You and I stayed at the animal hospital until 2 am getting you all cleaned up then we went back to the hotel in Katy, to take a slow walk around the pond outside before heading back in to snuggle in bed together. We had so much fun at that horse show walking around, sharing PB&Js, and teaching Hamilton (MJ’s dog) how to walk on a leash. Hamilton loved you and looked up to you so much.
You walked around the living room having a tantrum, shaking that green Dino violently by his tail as if you knew the frustration and pain
On October 14th, I got an 8:00 am Zoom call placed on my calendar, which I took in the living room with a coffee. You were there sitting with your green Dino. When the people on the call announced that my role had been eliminated and we talked through the logistics, you walked around the living room having a tantrum, shaking that green Dino violently by his tail as if you knew the frustration and pain. You made me laugh doing that behind my computer on that call and in a moment that I wanted to cry. That same day, I took you to our new home on Mountain Laurel Way. I brought you over while it was still empty to burn sage and palo santo. As we walked around, I told you, “This is your forever home, Huey. And this is your new backyard!” The sage always made you sneeze, but you wagged your tail because you knew it was what I believed to be good luck for us both. Little did I know, you were my lucky charm all along.
You loved playing in that backyard and would stand on the second level of the grass and throw the ball at me to throw back up to you. That backyard was sacred for us in the short time we shared it. We played fetch there. We practiced grilling steaks together, a process you dedicated your life to supervising. Thank you for managing my cooking techniques and Craig’s gaming techniques so frequently. We miss not seeing your face in all our small routines. Not only did you have a huge backyard, but you also had so many hiking trails. One weekend while Craig was traveling, we found an old soccer ball and ran the field for an hour dribbling and shooting. You tried your hardest to dribble but when you got too excited, you’d pick the ball up and run…not realizing the ball was foam so you’d come back to me to get the ball out of your teeth. You were so freaking fast that at the age of 13, I never could have imagined that those would be our last few months together. But they were so much fun. I didn’t have a job, so you swam and played, and we walked everywhere.
On our trail walks, we saw deer and owls, and eagles and even saved a butterfly one time that was on the ground with a broken wing. You tried your hardest to get in that muddy water, but I was a little more worried about what was in that water to let you swim much. If I could go back, I would have let you swim a few more times, but that is a small regret in the scheme of things. In hindsight, you did sneak off to swim almost every day when I rode at Hillcrest farm with Julie’s Labrador Moose. So, I guess it all worked out. Plus, we got in a lot of trouble when Craig found out after one swim in the new house, I bathed you in the guest bathroom and clogged the drain completely. I told Craig, it was worth it because you smelled like fresh Watermelon that day and zoomed around the backyard like the proudest, cleanest dog ever. We celebrated your Gotcha Day on March 4th and 5th exactly a month before you left us. I got you a new frisbee, which you carried around so happily everywhere with you. I also got you a tasty birthday cookie and told you that you were the best dog in the whole wide world.
Last week, Craig walked with us once. You took the squeaky donut toy that Andy gave you out every morning and sometimes let me throw it for you. We practiced our Spanish together, me learning to call you a mucho bueno perro and you smiling back at me like I was such a weirdo. We lay on the floor together and I scratched your belly or helped you stretch. You always loved when I would rub your armpits or back leg while you pointed your toes out in front of you. Sometimes you even let me Theragun your hips and neck after I did my own after our long days of riding at the barn. When I think about our many trips to all the barns together, it’s weird to not look in my rearview mirror and see your cute face so I can look at your reflection and let you know how perfect you are.
The whole last week of your life you played in the arena, running around being goofy, helping me set jumps, and sitting under the trees while I rode each horse. You demanded equal mango treats in the tack room to whatever I’d given Carter. Carter always wanted to play with you and nudge you with his nose, but he’s big, so I didn’t let him ever get too close cause I could tell it made you nervous. I loved the way you and Hamilton would go on adventures out into the woods across the street from the barn. You guys were always scheming together, and it was so funny. The way all the girls saw you and squealed, “Hueyyyy,” whenever you came to the barn was like you had a little fan club. You would wag your whole body and walk over to them, leaning your weight against them as they rubbed you. On the walks down to the arena, I would look at you and say, “Go Hue, Go Riding!” You would proceed to dart down the aisle then look back at me as if you were leading the way. Once I was safely on my horse, you’d lay in the shade under those oak trees, watching with your ears perked and I’d always yell, “Good boy Hue,” when I passed by you.
Those moments are small but become big in time and will last in my memory forever.
You went to the barn more in the last few days than you had in months and that meant the world to me, so I always stopped to get you a dog cookie and myself a coffee from Mazama on the way home. I’d pop the hatch window to the black Lexus we got so that you’d have more space, and you’d stick your head out for your cookie while we waited for the lattes to be made. Every time I go there now, I always want to reach for a dog cookie, but I’m reminded you’re not in the car, so I still take one and give it to Hamilton. Those moments are small but become big in time and will last in my memory forever. It’s those small moments of your eyes meeting mine or your wagging tail when I walk in the door or watching you lay ringside while I ride all the horses. The presence you had in my life was like a constant rainbow. So it’s only fitting that MJ saw a rainbow the morning you went to Southwest Vet for the last time.
The presence you had in my life was a constant rainbow.
I’m so glad that last night, we grilled steaks, and I even gave you a little bit more for helping me cook them on the grill, despite the farts I knew would come later. I feel like we learned to grill together if I’m being honest. We cuddled before you went to bed, and you rubbed your face on the blankies and barked at me for treats. I always was a sucker for giving in to whatever you wanted.
And on the very last day, I rolled out of bed and onto the floor to wake you up. Your big tail thumped the floor when I called your name from under the covers of my bed. I rubbed your belly and helped you up. You licked my face. We made coffee and I practiced Spanish while you ate breakfast. I let you outside for a moment and glanced back to see you standing in the yard looking at me on the sofa inside the house like you were taking it all in. Then when I came outside to get you, all of a sudden you seemed tense, so we went on a slow walk around the nature path behind the house. You sniffed and played briefly with another older 13-year-old dog before we rounded the corner and I walked down the center of the street facing you the whole time, walking backward, watching you trot and smile up at me. I could tell that you needed more than a walk, but I appreciated you giving me those final moments.
The vet cried when she found the blood in your stomach.
When we got home, you were still breathing hard, so I sat down on the floor to face you and said, “Huey, let me know if we need to go to the vet. I will take you if that’s what you need.” Houston, you immediately leaned forward and licked my face, and moments later, we loaded you into the car and headed down the road. You peered over the seat and into the rearview mirror to see me the whole drive there. The vet cried when she found the blood in your stomach. I knew we both wanted so badly for it to be another false alarm. Before the vet had come in the room I whispered to you, “Houston, if it’s time, I won’t make you stay. You have been the very best dog and the love of my life. If you need to go, it’s okay. You are the most special dog in my whole life.” After the vet confirmed we only had one choice and not very much time, we went outside and walked, you sniffed everything in sight, and I just watched not rushing you one bit. It was like you were giving me time and I told you, “I’m not ready yet Hue.” So we walked back in and I got coffee in the lobby while we waited for Craig. You sniffed around the receptionist’s desk until you found a HUGE Milk bone Box and proceeded to stick your whole head in and eat right out of it. We laughed and I said, “He is the very best dog and I’ve been so lucky.” When Craig got there, I said, “Who is that, Hue?” You trotted to the door and licked his face the minute he sat down with a treat.
“It’s okay. I love you baby bear. I love you baby bear.”
The techs brought you a fest of cheese whiz, cheese-its, peanut butter, and pudding. I took one last video with you. You were so excited about the snacks and kissed my face with peanut butter. You licked my hands clean and demanded water which you chugged, as you always did loudly. The way you placed your head in my lap and began to snore as the anesthesia took over made my heart melt all over again like the very first day when you fell asleep on my bed. All I kept whispering in your ear as your breathing slowed to a halt was, “It’s okay. I love you baby bear. I love you baby bear.”
Love you to the moon and back,
Mama
