My dog was my best friend. Here is our story from beginning to end, from the eyes of a teenager who just loved her Golden Retriever.
The winter I turned 13, my aunt began her own small business raising dogs. From the get-go, I, her animal-loving niece, had all my fingers in the pie of the endeavor. Especially when it came to the Golden Retrievers.
My aunt was uncomfortable dealing with large breed dogs. Their energy scared her a little, and she liked the smaller animals much more. So from the get-go, I had charge of the three beautiful Golden Retrievers she owned.
One of them in particular stood out to me. Her name was Cindy, hugely pregnant and stand-offish from anyone. I set out immediately to win her. But one morning, she had disappeared. A friend of ours, and the manager of the business, told me that I would get a $100 reward if any efforts I made to find her worked. So I made flyers and posted papers all over the neighborhood. I made signs out of plywood and 2×4’s that I pounded into the ground at the end of the road. During the time I spent trying to find her for my aunt, I realized I wanted to find her for my own sake as well. I realized I loved Cindy so much I would go to the ends of the world to find her.
Sure enough, within several days we got a call from a neighbor several miles away saying he had a mother and 10 puppies. He got his reward (the pick of the litter) and I got mine, the promised $100. And I got a loyal, sweet dog, who had beautiful puppies to boot.
I ended up buying the Goldens off my aunt and beginning my own business. All through my small business venture, Cindy was my best friend and close companion. And when an unexpected family move meant that I had to choose one of my three dogs to keep, I chose Cindy.
No one else has danced around me in the morning when I woke up. No one loved me like my sweet dog. She knew my footstep from everyone else’s, and was always just one step behind me. When I left, I knew she would be right there to give me a hug when I got home. Down in the woods, working out, doing school, Cindy never separated from me. We spent 5 of the happiest years together: we were the perfect match.
But toward the middle of August 2017 I knew she was getting old. The moment our family began talking about a possible move for me through Praxis, an apprenticeship school, I noticed a distinct downward change in her. She seemed preoccupied, like she was worried about me. I knew her time with me would not be long. I did not want to get to the point of having to put her down, so I prayed nature would take its course and she could simply pass away, no pain for either of us.
And one day, she did. She just walked off into the woods and fell asleep. My sister sat beside her the night before and told her, “Cindy, Lita will be ok. We’ll take care of her. You can go now.” Do animals understand us? I believe they do. At least Cindy did.