The initial shock of Annie’s death is passing, and we’re settling into mourning. It’s hard to make it through any routine daily activity without being reminded of her. We still sleep in contorted positions, trying to make room for the phantom Annie who is normally sleeping at the bottom of the bed. Beckett went to the cabinet today, and pulled out the dog biscuits, plucked one out of the box, and roamed around the house looking for her. Basil identifies every task with her, since she’s been velcroed to his hip for the past 5 years. The house is quiet, and feels insecure.
Annie had a way about her. She could make us laugh or make us love life by watching her live hers. She would hang out of the car window at 80 miles per hour, her jowls and ears flapping in the wind, her eyes plastered open, looking like a pilot effected by serious G force. People routinely pointed and laughed or honked at her. She would roll in the grass, scooching her back and butt across the green lawn, and smile from ear to ear. We made up an entire history of her life before she met us. She had once had a torrid affair with Rick James, and went on tour with him, but he was insanely jealous, and she had to get out before it got ugly. She had spent the years after Rick living in hiding in the ghetto. The commentary ran daily for all of the days we lived with her.
She was patient. We brought a bird and a baby to live with us, and she tried her best to ignore both of them for our sake. She looked at Ernie with such disdain. And we imagined her saying, “A BIRD? Ugh. Disgusting animal. Filthy creature.” in her sassy voice. Sometimes she’d scooch her butt across the carpet, and we’d make fun of her. Annie was always a source of entertainment. Especially the way she’d stretch out upside down to take a cat nap, with her legs spread wide open, and her tongue hanging out. Annie was always such a lady!
When we got Annie, she was deathly afraid of humans, dogs, and pretty much every other creature on Earth. She was a fear biter, and we couldn’t take her anywhere. But we didn’t give up on her. Underneath the fear, we could see a sweet and extremely smart dog. So, we worked with her. We trained her. We socialized her. We taught her how to take walks without being on a leash. We taught her how to swim. We taught her that she could trust us, and we’d be there for her no matter what. She went to work with us. She went on vacations with us. She went to the grocery store, the dentist, the hardware store. She went everywhere, and did everything with us. We’d sneak her into hotels, or choose Motels with curbside entrances. We’d drive an hour out of the way to go to a better swimming beach for Annie, or where we knew there would be the most seaweed balls and coconuts for her to pull out of the ocean.
We spoiled her, and she repaid us with unconditional love, and a pure joy that only exists between real friends. Thank you so much, Annie. Your canine love made us better humans. And for that, we owe you one.