Memories

Oliver, I remember how small you were. How you whined and cried when you were left alone in your box/kennel while you were being house trained. I remember how you took to Cambridge, wanting to be with him everywhere. I remember sitting with the two of you, having structured together time; Cambridge was not fond of the new puppy and needed encouragement for patience, lessons on sharing, and reminders not to nip at the puppy. You hated going somewhere Cambridge did not go and wanted to go everywhere he did. You were always eager to love, ready for a pat on the head, playtime, offering a lick to the hand, even when I didn't put my best foot forward. Even when I scolded.

What a small fluff you were. Loyal and anxious and mischievous. Wanting to climb into laps. Wanting more food, more time, more love. Always thinking you were still a puppy. Wanting to be the center of everything. Stealing toys just to steal them. Camping trips with you and Cambridge in the tent with me because I was worried something would happen to my dogs if they weren't in the tent too. Road trips. Potty training. Your sad cries mixed with Cambridge's when I left you at the kennel and went on a cruise. Chewing EVERYTHING, except what was okay for you to chew! Usually you had a non-discriminate appetite.

I remember the Friday I came home and both dogs were gone. Escaped from a fenced backyard on walkabout. How my heart sank when I couldn't find you. Then when I thought I knew where you were how sad I was to not be able to rescue you until Monday during work hours. I laugh thinking of how you both went on walkabout while I was at youth conference and my parents were tending you. They were beside themselves that you had gone. How grateful we all were to have you both back again.

Now, wrapped in a white cloth and buried under a tree in my backyard with a chew toy you will not chew. Miss you.

(And, no, this is not my hairy leg.)