THE DOG WE DIDN’T DESERVE

Sometimes I forget that this blog is something I do for me. A fact that should be unforgettable, seeing as the majority of my readers are family and friends who feel obligated to support me, but one that is forgotten often, nonetheless.

However, this week it was obvious immediately that this blog was meant to be just for me. It does not require an audience, though the subject more than deserves public praise. No, in the past few weeks, it has been I who needed these words, I who needed these reminders, I who needed these wonderful memories of the dog we didn’t deserve.

Oh, Hershey Sue. I’m crying as I type this out, still in shock that I will no longer find you lurking outside of the bathroom for when I’m finished with my business. I guess since we always waited for you, you felt it only fair that you waited for us. Because, that’s the type of dog you were.

I’ve been wracking my brain for two weeks for how to put my feelings into words, how to adequately express and articulate the honor it was to be 25% your owner.

It’s not possible, there is no way I will do you justice. And, let’s be real, there was no way I was actually ever 25% your owner. You are and always will be his, and though I was jealous of your relationship many, many times, I can now see what you saw in him. Why you chose him. You two were meant for each other, and I feel lucky enough just to be able to be an observer of true, unconditional love.

Luckily for me, I believe you have passed some of that loyalty and devotedness to your offspring, but it will never compare to you. No matter how hard she tries.

In the days after your passing, I contemplated what my favorite memory with you had been. What moment came to mind when I thought of Hershey Sue? I could only draw a blank. Clearly, that is not a reflection on you, who could only be properly be described as one who would leave a lasting impression. There will forever be a whole in all of our hearts, and our family, since you moved onto bigger and better things.

I think the reason no outlandish experiences came to mind was not because there was none to chosen from, but because that’s just not the type of dog you were. You were not one to make infuriating escapes like a black lab and a basset hound who will not be named. You were not one who cried in terror about the vacuum, or who tore a hole in the wall due to a fear of fireworks. You were most definitely not deserving of the title “gremlin” or ”nightmare”, as our newest recruit has been called. (Or, so I have heard.)

In contrast, you were the quiet strength of our family, lending power, comfort, and calm throughout what feels the entirety of my life. I cannot remember a major life milestone that you were not in attendance for, that smile on your face brightening the entire room.

As a puppy, you rode the entire ride home from Utah with nary a complaint and nary an accident. You latched yourself onto my brother immediately, going wherever he went, always wanting to be with him. Pressed into motherhood early, you bore that so effortlessly, we were almost unaware you were with child until the dog in the crate beside you started crying for help.

Sustaining an injury early in life, you never let it stop you from running, jumping, or weaving through the obstacle course that is our living room. The best guard dog known to man, I never felt scared when left home alone, because I knew you were sleeping right by my side. Sadie Grace may try to alert me of the shadow on the wall, but unless your alert ears pricked up, I knew there was nothing to worry over.

Countless medical scares could never get you down. Though I am so glad to know you are no longer suffering, you never acted as if you were, until the end. You just carried on, no matter what came, making me wish that I could be an eigth as strong as you were. I never will be, but a girl can dream.

I know that others will laugh and scorn, saying that a dog could not know, that the timing of your departure was just a coincidence, but no one will be able to convince me of such. You knew, you knew when the best time to go was. Not when he was serving his mission, not when he was in school, and not on Christmas Day. No, constantly unselfish, thinking of only those around you, you waited and you fought and you pushed until the very end of this vacation before you said goodbye. Even in your last moments, you were a resolute example of courage, bravery, and perseverance. You wanted it to be with him, but you wanted to accommodate him, and that is exactly what we got.

Sweet Hershey Sue, we never, ever deserved you. Never. There will never be another like you, and I wouldn’t want there to be. You were one of a kind, Miss Hersh. Thank you, for blessing us with fourteen years of incredible, quiet memories. Thank you for your example, for your kisses, for the many, many lessons you taught me, and for never actually taking my finger off when I went to give you a treat.

We never deserved you, but I have never felt more grateful to be so unworthy.