In Loving Memory

Last night my dog Dina died.

We had left Dina and Leo at home for the weekend while we visited family.  We arrived home late last night, and I put both dogs in the back yard to give us some sort of sanity as we shuttled our nearly sleepy children and the mountain of luggage that comes with one night away into the house.  It was around the time that they’d have to do their business anyways, so I suggested to my wife that we leave them out there for a few minutes while I tucked in my eldest.

I came downstairs to find the youngest peeping at me from her carseat, but my wife was nowhere to be found.   All of the sudden my neighbor comes running up to the front door in her pjs.  I open the door to prevent an inevitable freak out by our surprisingly quiet dogs.

“Dan, come quick.  I’ll watch your kids.  Your dog is dead.”

I uttered some vulgarity and struggled to get my boots back on.  I got out of the house in time to see my wife carrying a limp little bundle, all the while sobbing hysterically.  Dina was her first dog.  She was our first dog together.

I don’t know how both dogs had gotten out, but they did.  In their excitement to see us, they probably used the pile of snows that had built up this last week to scale the gate.  Once freed, the two dogs probably roamed around, looking for us.  Dina had already crossed the busy street near us by the time my wife realized that the dogs were not in the backyard anymore and started to call to them.  Dina was doubling back across that same busy street when the car caught her.

Dina was a Good Dog.  She was too smart by half and very loving.  She wanted nothing more than to be next to you, giving you more kisses than you could possibly stand.  We’ll miss her very much.