Our darling girl, Gracie, loved to play in the snow; she would flop her entire body down and roll around, until her auburn ears were dusted with white and she was shivering in her cozy snow coat. When she'd run back to us, waiting at the door, her entire face would be dusted with powder, and she only grew happier when we laughed.
That was the sort of dog Gracie was. Fun-loving, warm-hearted, living only to spread joy to the people who loved her. And so many people loved her — honestly, she was so spoiled, it's amazing she didn't insist on eating at the table with the rest of her family. (She did sometimes demand to be carried up the stairs, but her imploring little "arwww" was too cute to refuse.)
Wherever you went, she had to follow you — "our shadow," we used to call her. She enjoyed nothing more than long naps, ham, belly rubs, and bones. She loved watching dog training shows on Saturday morning, sitting on her mommy's bed. Getting her off the bed was its own battle. Her favorite movie was Frozen; her favorite place to snooze was at the top of the stairs, keeping watch over the living room and whole house. During car rides, she'd curl up at our feet and be lulled to sleep by the gentle vibrations of the road. When she snored, you could hear her from the other side of the house.
She hated giving kisses — you could never coax her into it, no matter what tricks (or treats) you employed. When she didn't like something, she'd turn her nose up like a little duchess. Heaven help the person who tried to get Gracie to do anything she didn't want to do — she was stubborn as an ox, and very proud of it. But she never snapped, never bit, never growled... she had the sweetest heart.
Her heart is what eventually gave out on her. It happened quickly. She was healthy over Christmas, and suddenly, just wasn't. She started coughing; within a week, she couldn't breathe. We rushed her to the vet, where we found she was in heart failure. We might have gotten a few more months with our girl, had her organs not started to fail a few days later. She was only in pain on her last day. That's when we let her go.
We'll always hold her in our hearts — our very best girl, our lovebug, our baby. Now, she's snoozing at the end of a rainbow. We'll see her again someday.
Our darling girl, Gracie, loved to play in the snow; she would flop her entire body down and roll around, until her auburn ears were dusted with white and she was shivering in her cozy snow coat. When she'd run back to us, waiting at the door, her entire face would be dusted with powder, and she only grew happier when we laughed.
That was the sort of dog Gracie was. Fun-loving, warm-hearted, living only to spread joy to the people who loved her. And so many people loved her — honestly, she was so spoiled, it's amazing she didn't insist on eating at the table with the rest of her family. (She did sometimes demand to be carried up the stairs, but her imploring little "arwww" was too cute to refuse.)
Wherever you went, she had to follow you — "our shadow," we used to call her. She enjoyed nothing more than long naps, ham, belly rubs, and bones. She loved watching dog training shows on Saturday morning, sitting on her mommy's bed. Getting her off the bed was its own battle. Her favorite movie was Frozen; her favorite place to snooze was at the top of the stairs, keeping watch over the living room and whole house. During car rides, she'd curl up at our feet and be lulled to sleep by the gentle vibrations of the road. When she snored, you could hear her from the other side of the house.
She hated giving kisses — you could never coax her into it, no matter what tricks (or treats) you employed. When she didn't like something, she'd turn her nose up like a little duchess. Heaven help the person who tried to get Gracie to do anything she didn't want to do — she was stubborn as an ox, and very proud of it. But she never snapped, never bit, never growled... she had the sweetest heart.
Her heart is what eventually gave out on her. It happened quickly. She was healthy over Christmas, and suddenly, just wasn't. She started coughing; within a week, she couldn't breathe. We rushed her to the vet, where we found she was in heart failure. We might have gotten a few more months with our girl, had her organs not started to fail a few days later. She was only in pain on her last day. That's when we let her go.
We'll always hold her in our hearts — our very best girl, our lovebug, our baby. Now, she's snoozing at the end of a rainbow. We'll see her again someday.
