I know that sounds pessimistic, but it isn't truly. Today is just a gloomy day.
On January 2nd, of 2016 one of my best friends died.
This best friend would protect me always.
She came into my life 8 years ago and since then has never, not once, abandoned me.
She loved me when I yelled at her, she loved me when I gave her presents. She loved me when I snuck her food, the best stuff.
She even loved me when I was sloppy, sniffling, snotty, crying my eyes out over not being able to go to Colorado State. She loved me unconditionally.
She loved me more than she ever thought about loving herself.
She would open doors to wake me in the morning, let me know when someone was on the front porch, and protected me from all things bad. The pizza guy. Dogs waking across the street. Unknown sounds, smells and shadows. She protected me from harsh words. She protected me from me too.
When I wanted to hurt myself because I was so mad and sad and angry and confused, she was there, getting my attention, bringing me her prized possessions, and licking my face.
Yes, she licked my face.
She licked my face because my best friend had four legs, soft paws, the best smile, brown eyes, a fluffy tail, an "S" on her chest and the biggest heart I have ever discovered in my lifetime.
My best friend was a dog.
ah..
almost..
come on!!..
allllmmmooossstttt
lick my face.
But a lot of times I didn't let her because I was worried about municiple things like clothing, and whether or not she would get her amazingly crumpy black hair on it. I wish I let her lick my face more. Other than pulling squeekers out of toys, her favorite thing was to give kisses.
I miss her, every day.
This is one of the hardest deaths to deal with for me. I can't cope with human death but her death was so hard, and so unexpected, and it hurt in a place I didn't realize could hurt. I felt so horrible. I felt empty. I just want her back. I wish she was right here with me, up on my dorm bed, absolutely content because her favorite place to be was with her humans. She had many humans.
The ones she saw the most were her Cierra Human, her Corryn Human, her Mom Human, and her favorite, her Dad Human.
He believed in her. He shared his secrets with her.
He was the boss of her, and she was the boss of him. Simple and as complex as that.
Which he does.
But to take from us first he must give us something.
God gave us a caretaker. God gave us a friend. God gave us a therapy dog. God gave us a dog that would die for us. God gave us a dog that touched many peoples lives. God gave us the best friend a little girl could have. God gave us love.
When God took Shasta back home, he didn't take the love he gave us. He removed her spirit from her body. He decided it was time for her spirit to run free. As my dad put it, she runs free now, without the restraint of a body. God left Shasta's physical self here on earth.
But he left us with love. He left us with memories. He left us with laughter.
When she left, she left us with whines, the memories of giggles from behind the bathroom door when she found us during hide-and-seek. She left us with an empty bed, yes. But she left us with a full heart. She loves us. We love her. And the lesson God and Shasta taught me is that once you truly love someone, that love does not go away. Love is eternal.
I can still feel the soft spot under your armpit, where I always held you, when we danced together. I will never forget the way you made me feel. Happiness does not reside in material things. It does not rest in a pot of gold you spend your whole life looking for.
You do not search for happiness like it is a destination. You find happiness in little pockets of every day life. You find it in the chewed up toys around the house, you find it in the ever-present silent breathing. You find it in the clanging of the dog tags hitting the marble by the fireplace at night.
Let me tell you this. I do not know the answer to this life. Or the meaning. Or why God takes from us.
But I think I have a good idea. He gives us the little things, so we can appreciate them. We did not own Shasta. We brought her into our house and she adopted us. Her little crazy clan of humans.
"They were nuts, let me tell you. But they are the best clan of humans any dog could ask for. They are my humans. Always have been, always will be. And I will see them soon enough."
-Shasta La Rue, the Superdog
