For my Abby...

It's been a year. One year since I lost my dear sweet Abby. One whole year without slobbery kisses, fur on my clothes, and squeaky toys left underfoot. Even though Abby's passing left a big hole in our lives, I never wrote about it. This is odd only because I usually find solace in putting pen to paper...it helps me refocus and get clarity. I couldn't write a word until now, one year later. Perhaps I'm beyond the acceptable period for a tribute post, but I guess I'm throwing caution to the wind and letting the words just take over.

So, without further ado, please meet Abby.

She liked to photo bomb her own pictures

I adopted Abby from a shelter while I was living in California. They estimated that she was about three years old at the time and her breed was listed as Alaskan Husky Mix. She was spirited, crazy about playing fetch, not great on a leash, amusingly quirky, and incredibly beautiful.

Adopting an older dog was quite different than raising a puppy. I discovered new things about her everyday - some good, some not so good. She was clearly housebroken and knew basic commands - good. She was also obsessive about squirrels and all things furry - not so good. I took her out for a walk by myself on our second day together and when she spotted a squirrel in a nearby tree she literally dragged me halfway into the street before I even knew what was happening. Her inner sled dog definitely came out that day.

Abby on the ready and scouting for squirrels.

Abby had favorite spots picked out in my backyard, all of them positioned purposefully at the bottom of a tree or within direct eye line of a tree. These spots, of course, were her prime squirrel-watching posts. Had the squirrels suddenly revealed themselves to be unfriendly alien mutants and threatened to destroy our beloved planet Earth, Abby would have been our front line of defense...and she would have been victorious. And I won't even get started on the night she encountered a possum in our backyard. It was my first encounter with a possum as well, and let's just say that I was schooled on the correct way to play possum (by a possum).

I knew in my heart that Abby was disappointed and perhaps confused by the lack of furry critters in Hawaii. She also did not take to the sun, surf and sand as I had hoped. She liked water just fine, just not in it's liquid form.

Before I left California, I took my sweet girl on several road trips. She took to the snow in Lake Tahoe like a champ, but ran away from the waves in Mendocino.

She was a natural in the snow, jumping in without hesitation

But she ran from the water as if it were burning her paws.

I find myself thinking back to our adventures and daily interactions often. They're both comforting and comfortable. People have asked me in recent months if I'm going to get another dog, but it's not something that I'm ready to think about yet. Abby wasn't just a pet, she was family.

Abby was with me for over 10 years. I watched her grow and mature, her young spry body giving way to all sorts of common and not-so-common challenges that senior dogs face. Her back flips and 360-degree mid-air turns were once physical feats to behold. I didn't encourage this, but she just did seemingly impossible things when a tennis ball was thrown her way. Seeing her eyes light up with unbridled excitement, and eventually watching the drool from her mouth arc backwards in the air and land on the back of her head at EVERY SINGLE MEALTIME was as reliable as clockwork. These are things I will remember about Abby, because her spirit always felt very much like a a young pup though her physical body failed her often in recent years. She didn't seem to be aware of her limitations, and what a valuable lesson that is to me, a mere human.

I loved my sweet Abby to the moon and back, and I miss her dearly. I think of her everyday.

Rest in peace my beloved friend.

My dear sweet Abby | 1999-2013