Oh, my heavy heart.
Tasha passed away last night. It was due to "old age" and we knew it was coming and made sure she was comfortable. We spoiled her all week with dinners made of chicken and pizza, with extra long rides in the car, and with the usual snuggles.
She was just such a good dog—sweet and obedient and loving. People just loved the stuffing out of her. The vet’s receptionist even cried when she said goodbye, it’s hard to lose such a dear friend. She was stuck like glue to my side and was my favorite companion. She would come to the office with me and go to swim therapy for her hips. She was so excited, like she hadn't seen me in years, when I would come home from work or when I would say good morning to her or when I had left the room for like five minutes and then finally came back to her. She was mine and she was perfect.
I haven’t picked up the handful of throw rugs we laid on our hardwood floors to help her walk. I haven’t washed her bowls and put them in a cabinet. I haven’t removed the extra leash from my car’s glove compartment. I haven’t picked up the dog bed in our bedroom that was right next to my side of our bed so I could reach down and scratch her head at night. I haven’t.
I came to the conclusion a long time ago that if you aren’t a dog person you don’t and won’t get it. But I'm a dog person. My heart is so broken. I love her so much. I miss her already.
Thanks for everything, Tasha Boo.