It was the first day of spring, 1994, when I adopted you into my family. For the next thirteen years, we were there for each other through good times and bad. Through it all, you never complained; all you wanted was to be accepted as part of the family — and in every way, you were just that.
Of course, I’m talking about my dog, Thea. To say she was a good dog is an understatement. She epitomized what a best friend is: loyal, reliable, unwavering in her commitment. She was in all ways a people dog: she was a bully around other dogs, and adored every human who crossed her path. She was a healthy, happy, active, youthful dog for a long time. Even when she was 11 years old, people would think she was a puppy.
Everything changed a year ago, when her health started to deteriorate quickly—the result of a degenerative spinal disorder. We knew then that it was a matter of time, and on October 4, 2007, that time came to an end.
Putting down a dog that is a part of your life for so long is hard; hard enough for me that I’ve rewritten this blog post three times in the past week trying to get it right. Words can’t describe what it’s like to hold your beloved family dog’s paw in your hand, petting her ears, in her final moments. I wish it ended some way other than it did, but I’m glad it ended how it did; she was comfortable, with the person she loved most. It’s hard saying goodbye; instead, I’ll say, “until we meet again.”
Thanks for everything, old friend. You’ll be missed.
Thea DeMarzo, Jan 13 1994—Oct 4, 2007
Always the life of the party
No snow drift was too deep for her!
Her favorite place, in her dad’s lap