Dottie dog
“Dogs’ lives are far too short. Their only fault really.”
We always know this day will eventually come, but it never feels real until it does. Saying goodbye to a “soul dog” is a kind of heartache that hits in waves—unexpected, undeniable and filled with memories that are both sweet and bittersweet. Earlier this week, we said goodbye to our dog Dottie, my beautiful, brown-eyed best friend. Her absence has left a heeler-sized hole in my heart and a house that is far too quiet.
Dottie had a personality all her own, which is what made her so easy to love. She had her preferences, and she didn’t mind letting the world know about them. The UPS guy? Not a fan. FedEx, postal workers and the Instacart driver? Also on her “do not disturb” list. She hated fireworks, baths or anyone who dared to steal my attention. Even the backyard butterflies couldn’t escape her disdain.
But Dottie’s love ran deep where it mattered. Farm days were her paradise—wide-open spaces and endless freedom. At home you could find our 50-pound lap dog trying her best to get as close to us as possible—even if it meant sitting on your chest and squeezing the breath out of you.
And when it came to food, Dottie wasn’t picky. She enjoyed everything, even broccoli, with the same enthusiasm she had for life itself. Her favorite moments, though, were probably the head scratches that she leaned into with her full weight, as if saying, “Stay a little longer.”
What will I miss? All of it. I’ll miss the way she’d nudge me for attention, her bright eyes watching my every move. I’ll miss those farm days when she ran with wild abandon, and even the way she would bark at the delivery people, reminding them whose territory they were stepping into. I’ll miss her presence, her quirks and the way she was always there—literally and figuratively.
You see, Dottie made sure we were never fully dressed without a layer of dog hair. It didn’t matter what we wore; her fur was always part of the outfit. Trent and I should have taken out stock in lint rollers with how many we went through trying to keep ourselves presentable. But honestly, even that became part of the routine, a reminder that Dottie was always with us. Her fur became part of the fabric of our lives in every way possible.
When we adopted Dottie, we had no idea we were in for one of the wildest rides of our lives. About six weeks after she came home with us, she surprised us with eight puppies. Suddenly, we went from one dog to a family of nine, and it was pure chaos. We had barely gotten to know Dottie, and here we were, surrounded by a litter of energetic puppies, scrambling to figure out how to care for them all. The cat, of course, was none too pleased about the sudden influx of furry residents. But despite the mayhem, those early days were filled with so much love, laughter and puppy breath. It was one of those unexpected turns in life that we never saw coming, but we wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything.
Dottie was more than a pet; she was part of our family. Saying goodbye is incredibly painful, but the love and memories we shared will stay with me forever. In the quiet moments, when the farm is peaceful and the neighborhood feels a bit emptier, I’ll think of her—and I’ll smile.