I got Abbie when I was just 20 years old. I decided I wanted a dog and within a day, I had a dog. I was pretty young and dumb about it. Without doing ANY RESEARCH on where to get a dog, what breed, etc (remember, young and dumb) I checked a couple of shelters and didn't find anything I liked, so I went to a pet shop in Bountiful - Bird World. I saw Abbie by herself looking through a window, head tilted, staring right at me, and I knew she was the one. They took her out for me to play with and her GIANT paws just slid all over the place on the shop's tiled aisles. She was so. dang. cute! I bought her right there on the spot. I had no idea what I was in for. I honestly think she built my patience of steel. She took soooo long to house-train. Her puddles of pee were like a torrential downpour. They spanned three feed wide by three feet long. Walking her was like walking a horse int he beginning. When she did manage to escape, she'd send me on a wild goose chase through neighborhoods, yards. I remember driving alongside trying to lure her in with a bone or treat. She chewed through a wall, furniture, clothing, and I am sure other forgotten items. I was stunned. Good thing she was so adorable. She slowly matured over her first 3 years, which felt like an eternity, but I am thinking it surely prepared me for the one-day-baby that would enter our lives.
As all dog owners probably do, we had a special voice we prescribed to Abbie. The title of this post lends itself to my dear Abbie dog's voice. Abbie (okay, we,) over food, would often say "did you know ...insert food related sentence here." "Did you know, that strawberries are in my top five favorite types of berries? Did you know... that almond milk is in my top three favorite types of milk? Did you know...chicken is in my top two favorite types of poultry?" haha...Abbie ate everything except iceberg lettuce, herbs, and lemons. Everything. Yes, even sour Skittles.
Abbie was a special dog and it wasn't just because she was mine. Nearly everywhere we'd take her, people, often strangers, would comment on her sweet demeanor and lovely personality. Enthusiastic and dogs are synonyms, I know, but her enthusiasm was contagious. She, as my grandpa Charlie used to say, had a "tail that could cut cheese." She was always furiously wagging her tail around anyone she met. I am sure that multiple people (including me) suffered bruises (okay, multiple bruises) by crossing paths with that energetic tail. It wasn't just her tail, her entire butt wagged. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought her rear end was plagued by seizures. Asking if she wanted to go to the park or on a walk was an event in itself. It went something like this: "who?" head tilt, eyes intent, "wants?" one jump into the air. "to-go-to-the-park????" multiple whimpering jumps into the air, throwing her paws up, can I get a hellelujah?
We have special memories of Abbie in many places, but some of my favorites were the Uinta mountains (Clyde lake and Ruth lake particularly,) Tanner park (a couple particular spots that she would take running leaps into the water,) and of course Red Butte canyon, where without her, I am not sure if I would have ever met my wonderful hubby Dave. We met on the trail walking our dogs.
Now for an Abbie run-on and on and on sentence: Some of Abbie's other quirks and fabulousness included, singing to an accordian (with the other dogs, except Timber. Timber is too dignified,) wearing dog shirts and clothes (she would try to stick her head back through if you'd take it off,) stamping for pets (if you stopped petting her, she would hit you until you pet her again, hence, stampy-doo,) running, jumping, DIVES from any type of rock or wall that led to deep water (she looooved swimming,) moaning and groaning to show both pleasure, and dismay, and diving through people's legs for butt pets. Always the butt pets.
Abbie had a lot of roles in our house. Pet. Protector. Confidante. She-who-provides-never-ending-sweeping-for-owners. But mostly, friend. She loved us all, even Isaac, who eventually had her running for the hills with his sheer terrorism.
We will miss her dearly and I will always remember her as not only my dog, but a teacher (a teacher of responsibility and patience, unconditional love, and sheet loyalty.) I love that dog. May she rest in peace and romp through the hills and bark at the ducks with her original BFF Lady, who left Julie almost 2 years ago. Thanks for the ride, Abba-dore!
Oh, before I forget, I have had a lot of people ask how the kids are handling it. Sam obviously doesn't get it. He still throws his food off the side of his high chair and says "Abbie! Abbie!" He is doing it less and less, but we still him murmur his name at least once a day. Isaac understands fully what has happened. At first he showed his emotions through anger (not directly at the situation, but through other ways.) Then, he wanted to talk about it. A LOT. Julie let us borrow a cute book about what dogs do when they get to heaven and that helped a lot. He found her collar about a week ago and wanted to hang it on his door. It was adorable, he said that when he picks it up and holds it to his face, it makes him feel close to Abbie and not miss her so much. He's been a trooper. Even though Abbie steered clear of lots of direct contact with the kids during her last few months, he finally conveyed to us that now he understood it. Sweet kids, sweet dog.
And now, a photo bomb of Abbie.
