We had to say goodbye to our sweet old doggy, Pepper, yesterday. No matter how much you try to mentally prepare yourself, I'm not sure it really does any good when it comes down to it. We brought her home with us when she was just a little puppy, and she and I essentially grew up together. She was a clown of a dog: very mischievous and funny. She was the worst student in doggy obedience class. She took over our big chair and ottoman as her domain. She loved to swim in our creek in the summertime. She adored peanut butter and cream cheese. She had the softest, velvetiest ears, and was the perfect size for hugging. Even when she was naughty, she was always a good girl.
I hate having to use the past tense. I hate goodbyes. I've had to say too many of them lately. It seems like this past year has been one loss after another. Maybe that's the sort of thing that can happen as you get older. Or maybe this year has simply been more difficult than most. I just hope it gets better from here. I'm not sure whether or not I believe in Heaven, but if there is one, I hope that there are lots of treats, critters to chase and scrunchies to steal. I hope there are lots of belly rubs. I hope she can give a kiss to Carl and to my grandparents. And I hope she knows how much we love her.
