"Our beautiful black lab has passed away.
I can’t believe it’s true. I still can’t. I see her everywhere. The house is so quiet. I keep thinking that I need to get her dinner or take her out for her walk… She loved her walks. She could barely see and barely hear, but her nose worked very, very well…
I have tried to write this so many times. I’m grateful for a public way to remember her. But when I try to write… I get lost in my grief. My mind goes to the smell of her fur, the sounds she made, her velvet ears… Our beautiful girl gave me more love than there is a way to measure. I know that it is a sacred responsibility to care for an old dog. They give us their youth, their boundless energy, their unconditional love. She did. She carried Jodie through the hardest times of his life. She carried me through missing Jodie these last few years. She was always joyful. I have never known such a gentle soul. I think she would have stayed with us forever… just to try to make me happy. I’m grateful that I could try to ease her old age, rub her ears and massage her back, and scratch her butt to stretch out those hip muscles. She loved everything. And everyone.
My mind wanders these days. We have all cried for days. And been so touched by the outpouring of love from everyone who knew Emma. She had a lot of second families and they all have joyful stories of ‘Crazy Emma’ destroying the inflatable whale swimming pool, ‘Sweet Emma’ riding shotgun in a friend’s truck with her hot pink stuffed pig toy gripped in her mouth. She was such a girl. She bounced up and down to greet you. Couldn’t hear much but always knew the word ‘walk’. Suffered her insulin shots lightly in order to get to the prosciutto or bacon or cookie or carrot that came after. Every day as I scooped the gross wet food she loved and fed her a little bacon treat her vegetarian mother would tell her, ‘Only for love dear.’ I must have told her how wonderful she was and how much I loved her a thousand times a day. It was the last thing I got to tell her. I still love her. I’ll never stop."
And I want to thank Emma. She got me through some of the most difficult periods of my life, and was there when Paige and I got married. She never judged, and was always there to greet me with her dangerously happy tail. She actually did this “hop” when you walked through the door, as if she literally wanted to jump up and wrap her arms around you, but somehow knew that was not lady like. She came to learn that the phrase, “Do you wanna…?”, always ended with something along the lines of “go outside”, or “go for a ride”, or “a treat”. You couldn’t get past the “wanna” without her jumping up, cocking her head, and giving you this hilarious look that said, “Hell, yeah, I wanna! But ‘wanna’ what?!?!? C’mon! Finish the sentence already!” I can’t say this enough: Emma was a gift.
She was diagnosed in May 2009 with diabetes. On the first Friday of that month, at our annual Spring Friday party, was the last time Emma really ran like Emma for her ball. A few days later, the diabetes hit, and there were a handful of moments prior to our getting her blood sugar regulated that we really thought it was probably her time. But she powered through, and she has been a champ about her twice-daily insulin shots…probably due to there being a treat at the end. Her eyesight started to fade, then her hearing. And Paige was there for her, every step of the way.
Emma turned 14 on Nov. 11th, so she was, effectively, a 98 year old diabetic. It was probably her time, and we should not have been surprised. But we’re crushed, and there is a giant hole in the house and in our hearts.
We will miss her terribly, but will see her again. And I’ll have a tennis ball."
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