I Know I Can Love You Much Better Than This

I remember the first day I met you. You were so thin and small and incredibly nervous to be touched. Still, you let us play with you, and chased our tennis balls good naturedly, not expecting much.
I remember being so captivated with you, so impressed with your ability to soldier on. I remember the lady at the front desk speaking to my parents about having to take on the responsibility of you when Sean and I left the nest. I remember Mom crying - not because she couldn't have you like Dad thought, but because she didn't want us to leave the nest. We still haven't I guess. Ironic, that you'll be the first to truly leave.
I remember coming home to find that you had jumped from the second story to get to the backyard. I remember coming home to watch you after you were spayed, with your ginormous cone and shaved belly. You were a mess, wobbling all over the place. I remember our first winter with you, taking those pictures which to this day are some of my favorite of you.
I remember walking with you through the fields behind the elementary school, chasing mice through the snow. I remember wandering around at the cottage with you, content to chase seagulls from their midday perches for nothing more than laughs.
I remember watching you eat funny and pulling the porcupine quill out that Dad missed that one time you were silly enough to jump one. I remember the look you gave me, like pure gratitude.
I remember how you came with me to New Years eve once at Martha's apartment. I remember taking drives with you just to take drives with you. I remember waking up every morning in grade 12 and OAC to find you snuggled in behind my knees, preferring to sleep with me than go for early morning walks with Mom. (That always meant a lot to me, by the way. Thanks for loving me best sometimes.)
I remember having you over for sleepovers when I lived in Vanier, and how much safer you made me feel. I remember you not letting Dennis and Lyne into the house that one time because I was alone. I remember how you would bark like crazy anytime anyone came close to the house. Our own personal security system.
I remember how happy I was to see you when I got to Whitehorse. I remember how you launched yourself at me like you thought I had been gone forever, and suddenly by some luck, restored to you.
I remember taking you for long walks in Whitehorse and noticing how much you'd slowed down. I remember how I took you out to the sand dunes at the ski hill, and then on a whim we went to the world's smallest desert in Carcross. Just to say you had been. Just to show it to you.
I remember wanting to take you everywhere, and how jealous I was of Sean's friend who hadn't been seperated from his dog for more than 2 hours since she had been born.
I remember how safe I felt that night that I was so dizzy and sick that I had to nap in the car before we could go home. I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to me, I trust you with my life. And you held that trust sacred. You would have rathered died than not protect me, or anyone in the family. I know. I know there is someone behind those big brown eyes of yours. You understand maybe not the words, but the sentiments.
I am so grateful I insisted you come with us to Liard, and to Skaguay. I'm so glad we could have those moments together. I know I probably won't see you again, and if I do, you'll be sick and frail. I know. I know you were saying goodbye with every good natured sleep in the back of the car while I took you with me to almost everywhere I wanted to go. I know it was in all the snuggles and the times you would rest your head on my lap or shoulder. I'll never forget sleeping in the back of the truck, you sandwiched inbetween me and Mom. Hogging the blankets and all the heat. If I didn't undestand then, I do now. I know it's goodbye everytime you sleep in the bed I got you for last christmas. I know it's goodbye everytime I look at your pictures for just a little too long. It kills me that I won't be there for you like all the times you were there for me. It still grates that I wasn't there for Rufus in much the same way. I want nothing more than to throw all of these books and papers to the floor and pawn all I own to get on a plane and be with you for the next few weeks...months, however long you may have. But I can't baby girl. I can't.
If I do that, these past few hellish months will have been for naught. And I know you, you would want me to soldier on. Even if it hurts, and doesn't end up as planned, you would want me to try. You were always brave like that, not afraid to make yourself heard and felt.
I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we can't all be together, like we were in the beginning. I'm sorry that I won't be there to stroke your soft fur and snuggle you into me one last time. I remember that last sleep, how I didn't want to let you get up in morning. I didn't want to get back on the plane without you.
I'm sorry that I won't be able to soothe you at all in your last few weeks. I'm sorry because you mean so much to me and I can't even tell you. You've got all my secrets locked up in you. You've got all my fears and ambitions. You know more about me than any human, I'm willing to bet. And I'm so sorry. So sorry baby girl. You deserve so much better than this. I love you more than I can say, and I always will. We were equals, you and I. I'm going to miss you until the end of time. You made all my bad days bareable and my good days even better.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love you so much it hurts.
-Jess
"Dogs are my favorite people."- Richard Dean Anderson
"Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really."-Agnes Sligh Turnbull
"The dog is a gentleman. I hope to go to his heaven, not man's."- Mark Twain