#dog problems

She had her difficulties, and I certainly had to learn a lot about dogs very quickly to eventually get her to a more confident and happy space once I got her. I had no idea what I was in for. I just knew I needed a friend. It was a shit time in my life.

She was a pretty simple dog when it came down to it. Ideal. Wanted to run fast - as long as she could also run fast back to you. Wanted to sleep, as long as it was somewhere she could keep an eye on you. And yet, she never panicked when you left. She seemed almost strangely confident you'd be back. I guess you'd have to be an idiot of the first order to leave her.

She always wanted to press her whole body against you until you were almost falling over with it. Didn't much care about other stuff. Except that one feral deer she saw on a hills walk once. I found her like, 2 hours later, collapsed in a pile of her own slobber, exhausted, at the bottom of the hill. I had to carry all 27 kilos of her back up the steep incline to the car. She just went limp in my arms and whapped her tail against me the whole way. All I could think the whole time was how grateful I was a) that she was alright, and b) that she weighed so much more now than when I got her. Probably one of my fondest memories.

I'd been unwell and struggling at uni so long before I even got her. Then, I started collapsing with exhaustion at work. The doctors I saw didn't seem particularly interested and I didn't have the words or energy to advocate for myself. I'd given up on working it out. But when I deteriorated to the point I couldn't walk with her anymore, I made myself keep fighting to find out what was wrong. Got diagnosed. Gradually got better.

We went on adventures all the time. She loved the beach. Loved to splash through the water and speed along the sand. She'd pick blackberries with me in the hills with such careful grace, just using her tiny front teeth and long, elegant nose, so she wouldn't get pricked by thorns. She'd find any wall on a walk under six feet and jump on it just for the joy of showing off her balance and agility.

When home eventually became a place that wasn't safe anymore, when I saw how scared she was, I left - when I would've just stayed before. I did eventually learn I couldn't save everyone. But I could save her, and I could save us.

I don't know. She just met everything with such a happy face. A perfect idiotic grin. Her tail was so long and whippy you had to be on perfect guard of anything on a coffee table because she'd sweep it right off on her mission to come get in to cuddle you. I was still moving people's cups and plates up high a year after she was gone.

She was like any ol' dog really, but she was mine. And she was vital and real and there for me when it seemed like no one else could be.

I miss her like crazy. Writing this made me cry, actually. Good tears though, for a good dog.

I got my very first tattoo done in her memory a couple years back. I love it. She's on my arm, sorta leaping in towards my heart. Best trash puppy princess there ever was. But I mean, look at that face and tell me there’s a single thought in that head — you simply can’t.

She's saying "ive rehabilitated your dog back into the wild" and bullshit like that. Im trying to convince her to bring my dog back home.

She's gone and put my dog half an hour away in her clinic. I don't have a licence, so I can't see her unless I coordinate with my dad to drive me there, so when I used to see her almost every minute, I can only see her a few times a month, since my dad is usually at work...