The first time I met Dallas she looked at me sideways, as if to say, “I’m not sure you are good enough for him.” I respected her immediately.
Dallas was Mark’s dog. She walked beside him step in step wherever he went. She laid under his desk when he worked, she sat at his feet at the dinner table.
The only time she wavered was when one of the boys dropped crumbs on the floor. But right after she gobbled them up she was right back with Mark. Until the day he died.
That morning, she was lying beside our bed. That day, I wondered if she knew he was gone. That night, I went outside to bring her in and there were tattered shreds of metal all over the yard. She had torn down a gutter and ripped it to pieces. She knew.
When Mark passed away Dallas was already 10 years old. I humbly asked her for two more years. I couldn’t fathom going through loosing her anytime soon after Mark. She gave me four. Thank you Dallas.
Yesterday, as I walked into the vet with her and she couldn’t walk I had tears pouring out of my eyes. I knew there was not much chance of her coming home with me. But I couldn’t imagine it. They asked if I wanted to stay with her during the process. I knew they would. I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I could handle it. But for Dallas and all of her unwavering years of love, I stayed.
At the end, the vet and her assistant were both sobbing with me. She was a special animal, and will always hold a special place in our hearts. We love you Dallas. I know you are happy now, because you are once again…with Mark.