Farewell Lizzie

This post has absolutely nothing to do with our home or a DIY project and is completely personal, just to warn you now!

Lizzie

Growing up we had dogs when I was little but after about 2nd or 3rd grade we never really had a dog again. We had a golden retriever and a beagle but the golden got too big for our small backyard and the beagle was just too much for my parents to take care of (since my brother and sister and I were supposed to but I'm sure NEVER did! no surprise there) So anyways both of my previous two dogs were given to friends when I was relatively young.

Then when I was in 9th grade, we adopted Lizzie, a 2 1/2 year old white miniature poodle who had been abused by her former owner and was looking for a home. A woman in my mom's office was fostering her and when we went by to pick up some papers, my mom and I both fell in love with her. So we brought her back to the house with us for a week trial to make sure we really would be able to take her, without telling my dad that we never had any intention of returning her. The poor thing was scared to death the whole car ride home, crying and shaking the whole way but we got her home and started to play, and I think we all knew she was home.

She got off to a rough start though, with a biting incident that left my dad calling her "white fang" to this very day. Needless to say it took a while for my dad to warm up to her, and for the black mark on his nail to grow out, but he warmed to her just as much as my mom and me eventually. Even though I have an older brother and sister who also love Lizzie dearly, she was always MY dog. They were already off to college and working when we got Lizzie so she was my responsibility and my sweet puppy. She slept with me and we'd wander the neighborhood slowly (she wanted to sniff EVERY plant, fire hydrant, stop sign, sidewalk or newspaper in sight) and sneak her into the grocery store when I just needed to pick up a snack.

She always had a very strong personality and could practically jump onto my parents counter tops, even though she was MAYBE a foot and a half tall. She would follow you all around the house every time you stood up just to be in the same room with you; she would only eat her food when we were eating and would bring a mouthful of it to the carpet at the table where we were and would her eat right next to us; she would go wild, seriously CRAZY, barking and run to the front door every time the doorbell rang; she would find the smallest space she could find between you and the arm of the couch and try to sit there; she would somehow get into a bag of candy, open it and "hide" them all over the house (like on a stair or on the side of a chair) instead of eating them; then when she was caught she would walk around the house to check on her candy to make sure it was still there, leading us to all of her hiding spots; she would hop into your suitcase anytime there was an open one, just to make sure you didn't leave her behind; and she licked EVERYTHING almost to an annoyance but she loved us and she was our dog from November 15th, 1998 until today.

At 15 she hadn't been doing well for a while but this summer was just bad. I was home a few weeks ago and we all knew it was time. So while I know it's for the best and that she was ready, it's been very difficult for me to say goodbye. I've never had a dog die, which seems crazy at this age but nonetheless hard, and to not be there is especially hard (maybe that's why I'm writing this and posting it for everyone to see), but I know she'll be in a better place because All dogs go to heaven, right?

Just a few photos I found of her on my computer:

helping me get ready- always in the action

Trying to get some drinks while on the float in the lake- don't think she got the memo that poodles aren't water dogs!

watching us ski

waiting patiently in my suitcase while I pack :)

I love you Lizzy Lou!!