Sometimes life doesn't always go as you planned. Sometimes life throws you curves.
Queen bee, she only cared about whether you were throwing a ball or a treat.
Curves? Bah. No such thing.
Queen Bee was my mother's day present in May of 1999. She came at the end of my first year of law school.
We spent the summer together, me loving my newest baby, her learning to be a part of a family.
She was born in a drought - I remember when it finally rained, I had to take her out under an umbrella - she would NOT go outside.
Queen Bee was my baby and our family's rock through many tough years.
When we divorced, Queen Bee provided the stability to the children, changing houses with the kids to give them the support they needed.
When the kids went to college, she was my constant friend and companion, keeping me occupied and giving me the strength I needed to carry on.
When I finally made the move south, the was right there with me through all 1070 miles. She was a little worse for wear, and I had a feeling she was just not right, but yet she kept on.
Last week, I couldn't ignore it any more. We went to the vet. At first, it was just arthritis. But tests revealed something much more sinister - Cancer.
We took her home, not sure how many days she had left. We decided to bring her home and make her last days great.
We took her to the beach. We fed her pasta and steak and mint chocolate chip ice cream.
She said no thanks to the rum.
But tonight, after a gigantic dinner of cheese and crackers and tomatos and pasta and hummus, she went to her bed.
She didn't look right.
I took her outside, where she collapsed.
We called the vet who met us at the clinic. Where he confirmed her spleen had ruptured and it was time to say goodbye.
For anyone who has loved a pet, you know the pain of "doing what's best." I couldn't let her suffer another minute and I let her go.
As I sit here in tears, remembering the best dog of all time, I remember what made her great.
I remember how she taught herself to open the pantry so that she would never go hungry, even if it meant eating Lipton Onion Soup from a dry pouch for the few hours she was left home alone.
I remember how she went sledding with us in the winter, pulling the kids down the street.
I remember how she curled up with me in my bed when I was alone.
I remember the patient posing for for hundreds of photos - first and last day of school particularly.
I remember your tolerance as we dressed you as "SuperDog" and in other crazy costumes.
I remember how she ate 2 pounds of Godiva chocolate that I unwittingly wrapped and put beneath the tree, not thinking about her penchant for chocolate. Yes, she survived.
I remember how she sat on the small bank in my backyard on the edge of the line between my house and Pop's next door (before the Ex lived there) and would watch for him. The minute he passed by the back door, she went nuts until he came over to play.
I remember how much she LOVED her grandparents and quickly learned that when Grandpa took out his cigarettes it meant, "Time to go OUTSIDE!"
I remember how she accepted Stinky Butt from the moment we brought her home.
I remember how she filled up the lonely space inside me when I was alone.
Goodnight Chessie. I hope you find the land of neverending waves and bottomless bowls of steak.
Thanks for delivering me safely to Florida and the Captain. You are the best friend and best dog ever. Always.
