You visit my dreams

I continue to be visited by you in my dreams. You appear out of the blue and I am puzzled. You shouldn’t be here but I am overwhelmingly happy you are. I know it has got to be a dream but don’t care. You are there.
I hug you generously through the astonishment and show you to anyone around. Most don’t acknowledge you or act like it’s no big deal. I know it is a very big deal and focus all energy on getting as much out of you as I can before I wake. I know these moments may never come again and I need all I can get from you.
When I finally do wake, I am deeply sad yet don’t know why. It takes a long time realize I had another experience with you and while I enjoy what I can get out of it tremendously, I am left with that same emptiness when reality sets in and you are still gone.
Still missing you every day #sophiegoldendoodle

Funny how you come to mind when I let my guard down…

Funny how you come to mind,
When I let my guard down,
When I am relaxed,
Briefly happy,
My thought immediately turns to you,
Where is Sophie?
And then I of course,
Immediately realize,
And I am sad again.
It is as if happiness is tied to you.
If I am happy,
I want to share it with you.
Be with you.
Increase the happiness by being with you.
You were so much a part of the good in my life.
Not that it is a rough life otherwise.
I have no reason to complain,
Other than this loss of love.
Your love haunts me always.

2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy
2010 Fall, Sophie Happy


I miss our small talk…

Always being around me, you were my conversation target at any time.
it wasn’t deep, not complex, just chatter, but it mattered
and i miss it every day

hey baby
hows my girl?
how you doin?
what’s a matter?
everything ok?
who’s that pretty girl?
hey Sophia
what’s a matter baby girl?
what are you doing?
come here
that’s my gurl
where’s my baby?
are you ok?
good girl
good job
there she is!
alright let’s go
wanna go outside?
let’s go
here we go
let’s go
alright, alright
where’s your frisbee?
get your frisbee
well go get it
there you go
good girl
go potty
come on
let’s go inside
good job
good girl
come on, get a drink
ready for bed?
wanna eat?
you hungry?
want some green beans?
wanna milk bone?
where’s your bear?
get the kitty
oh settle down
stop it
you just behave
good girl
come here
where that belly?
lemme get that tickle belly
lumpy girl
big stretch
that’s my girl
there you go
you ready for bed?
gimme hugs
that’s my girl
alright baby

I meant for this to be a more substantial post, but i just keep talking to you in my head, this chatter is non stop and these words were said so often,  I cant accept not saying them anymore
I can’t stop thinking about you
I regret letting you go more and more every day
I’m so sorry baby
I’m so sorry


Where the hell was this lymphoma in dogs article 5 months ago?!

4am, woke up, couldn’t sleep, thinking about my girl… Google “how do dogs get lymphoma?”

So, where the hell was this lymphoma in dogs article 5 months ago?!

Specifically, the ability to get treatment from our local vet once a course of action was determined, would have greatly influenced my decision to pursue it. We avoided chemo for a few reasons, but primarily because we didn’t want to put her through the travel to and from the north Dallas cancer center and leave her with them every week.

Sophie already had stage 5b lymphoma when they finally diagnosed her, affecting her lungs with the most impact. Though she had weak legs, she stood the whole trip traveling anywhere, which then caused days of pain following it. We had to limit her activity, in spite of herself, for a few years.

Trying to overcome the denial and accept what people were telling us, we accepted that yes, we could spend 6-10 thousand dollars and extend her life a bit (at unknown quality), but chemo would never cure it.

I am not sure how we could have gotten around the conflict between prednisone and chemo, since the prednisone was the only thing that seemed to allow her to breath comfortably. But seeing this new info, I struggle with not pursuing chemo.

I don’t think I realized just how painful her loss would be and though I expected great difficulty, this ongoing pain almost three months later, makes me continue to question everything.

It is very difficult to agonize over the chosen path and ending her life, without her discomfort right in front of me. Relying on painful memories alone, I try to remember her perceived pleading eyes to make it stop.

In the end, I likely have to accept that I wouldn’t feel any better about it than I do now.

sophie chillin
from 7/26/16
sophie chillin

Very difficult to visit this site

When I do get the courage to open this site, my heart swells with anxiety, longing, missing…

So Facebook continues to remind me about you, Sophie -not that I need reminding.

Apparently one of my favorite photos of you was taken one year ago on a nice late afternoon chilling in the living room. I see it is the same photo used for the blog icon above. The Facebook post is simply titled “Miss Sophie”, and I certainly still do, miss Sophie.

I dreamt about Jackie last night. She was the co-worker who passed away this past year. She had the little dog, Angel. Sweetest lady you’d ever want to meet. In my dream, as I realized she was gone, I asked her to take care of you. I guess I should ask you to help take care of them as well.

Miss Sophie
Miss Sophie

Saturday mornings suck now

Saturday morning walkies
Saturday morning walkies – from 2015

It’s Saturday morning… and Saturday mornings suck now.

They used to be a special time for us. You would let me sleep in a little bit at least (until your cancer had us up at specific times for medicines), so it was less rushed than a workday. But when it was time, you would do your stretches, shake yourself awake, and head for the front door. I’d grab your collar – often having to go back to the bedroom and get it from where it was removed for your bedtime brushings and sleep, and snap it in place with a loud, reassuring click.

Grabbing your extendable leash, I snap that to the collar loop with another reassuring click. That seemed to be your cue to get feisty! Now it was time to bite things. The leash, my leg, my pants, my shirt, my hand, looking for a Frisbee. I grab your Frisbee and hold it out so you can snatch it with your teeth. Occasionally you would drop it and stuff your head in the bench storage to grab another Frisbee – there were several, all pink. Drop, pick another, drop, pick another, but you usually ended up with the same one in the end. OK, you’re ready!

I snatch a roll of poo bags and open the front door -charge! Your spirit was wonderful! Every walk seemed like your first and your last, you were always that excited. We’d head out like you owned the neighborhood. Head high. Quick steps. Frisbee firmly out front. A quick pee in the front yard and lookout sidewalk, here we come.

These chilly Fall mornings were the best for walking. You had an extra jump in your step, an excitement in the eyes, alert, looking for something, anything -hunting. Occasionally we would see one of the many rabbits around. They would always freeze, hoping you didn’t see. Sometimes you didn’t, and I’d nod to them as we passed. But usually it was “point” time and you would freeze, with the trademark golden retriever in you displaying. Straight back, body crouched down, tail straight out back, one foot forward, and slowly inching towards your prey. I in turn grip the handle of the retractable leash firmly, thumb hovering over the lock button, anticipating the lunge. “Sophie, be nice” I’d say. “Just leave him alone baby. Come on, let’s just go.” But the next actions largely depended on the rabbit. Sometimes they really would sit frozen, and if they were far enough from the sidewalk, I could often coax you to walk on by, with their eyes tracking us the whole way.

But more often than not, they would eventually dart away and you would lunge after them. My grip on the leash handle would be strained as I managed the feed of the line like hauling in a large fish on a reel. If I held too tight, you would strain and choke close to me. If I let you go too fast, I risked too sudden a stop at the end of its length injuring you or losing grip entirely. this had to be a gradual managed feed, slowly restricting more as you got further in the grass. This was a known safe and best-case scenario tactic, based on years of failed attempts. You remember how those ended.

Some rabbits were particularly annoying when their attempts to flee led them directly down the sidewalk where we headed. The hunt just kept repeating over and over, “ugh – come on man,” I’d plead.  But eventually, we’d be on our way, and back to sniffing feverishly and looking for the next bit of excitement. (note to self – detail the squirrel version of our encounters!)

You liked a pretty standard routine. We’d head out the door the same direction each morning (south east) and most days, but especially on Saturdays, it was up to you which way we went from there. No rush, no agenda. The neighborhood was somewhat limiting, but you had options after the first block and as we’d get to the first intersection, you would let me know by just stopping and looking at me – Frisbee still firmly in your mouth, that we needed to change direction. “Which way we goin’?” I’d ask, “It’s up to you, this is your day”. You’d look the direction and start there with excitement as if it was a whole new discovery.

The walk continued on, varying from the quick pace that you normally went, pulling me just enough at the extended limit of the leash, or we’d be almost stopped as you investigated at length, new smells discovered deep in the grass. I was wary of those sniffs especially though, and would only allow a few seconds of what was apparently something very interesting. The more you dug your feet in anticipating this, the more determined I was to pull you away from whatever “it” was.

You had your favorite yards to take care of your business in. And without being too obvious, I would try to spare repeat yard bombings, by varying our pace or switching sides of the street – I think you noticed though, as I would get that look from time to time out of you. Towards the end of your life, these walks were shorter, and the yards fewer, and I came to call it poop-bingo, as we picked a winner each morning. Thinking back now, I feel bad that I don’t know where your last poo went, which yard. I knew it was your last day, and I was burning as much into memory as I could. I have a suspicion, but am not sure.

Other things changed about your walks towards the end as well. You started out with the Frisbee, but it was quickly dropped for me to carry. You used to hold it in your mouth even as you peed, dropping only to poo. But now breathing was a priority, and I carried the Frisbee for you most of the time. We still had to bring it, mind you. This retriever did not leave without something in your mouth, and a Frisbee was still better than letting you attack the leash the whole way.

All roads eventually led home though, and you knew where that was. As we came in the door, you dropped the Frisbee, waited patiently to be de-leashed, I got my big Sophie-hugs and you went to rest on the tile, “Good girl, good walk”.  It was a great start to the weekend, and we would spend most of them together.

I miss my Saturdays so much. I miss my Sophie so much.



Fall walkies
Fall walkies – from 2015
poop bingo winner
poop bingo winner – from 2015
poop bingo
poop bingo – from 2015
after walkies
after walkies – from 2015

OMG I miss your gaze

those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking

I soooo miss your loving and usually inquisitive gaze. We seemed to always keep an eye on each other. Every time I looked at you I could tell you cared about me, you were concerned with what I was doing – or about to do- and just generally wanted to know where I was. I have to know that you saw the same in my eyes looking at you. I loved you so much and just wanted to know where you were at all times, and that you were safe. I still look for you constantly and cannot accept that you aren’t here, aren’t safe, aren’t by my side protecting me too. The pain is duller now. I am able to bury it deeper, but it continues to bubble up occasionally and I don’t see that it will ever stop. Even when I don’t stare at the many thousands of images I have of you, I see you in my mind, clearly, crip, with detail and texture, lighting, color, scent, touch, tactile, so real. I hear you. Your sounds. Your breath. Your snort, snores and excited barks. The jingle of tags on your collar, them hitting your water bowl as you slurp and swallow. That shake- oh that shake. It was your call to action, and something was about to happen. But even then, those eyes. Talking to me just by looking. Want to go outside? Want to eat? Want to play? Or just need a hug? I need a hug. I need a hug, bad. Sophie gave the best hugs. I loved my Sophie hugs.

those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking
those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking
those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking
those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking
those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking
those eyes - always looking
those eyes – always looking

Just can’t seem to finish our last project

Paint Doors project
Paint Doors project

Miss Sophie would always keep me company on my many projects wherever they happened to take place. The house, the garage, the backyard, the front yard. Not a bother, didn’t get into anything -usually- just sat quietly, she just wanted to be around. If the project spanned several areas, she would of course follow, and I of course waited for her. Held a door as needed, fixed a spot for her to sit. It was just a given. She was going to be there. If I didn’t let her know I was starting up something and maybe let her nap, she was invariably offended that I started without her. I’d come back in, an she was waiting, noticably peeved and immediately joined the venture. I regularly had to tell her as I went out the front door, “no, I’m not going outside for anything, I just have to run to the store- I’ll be right back”.

As her illness worsened, and Texas summer heated up, I found she couldn’t be outside for long, and not wanting to leave her alone, I focused on indoor projects like painting these doors, where she could be near, and watch.

And I enjoyed the audience, the eyes always watching me- head rarely moving- just her eyes tracking, keeping me in view. I felt I was doing the projects with her, often for her. But this one was our last, and she passed away before I was able to finish it. I just can’t seem to get on it again. My heart’s just not in it anymore baby girl. Maybe this weekend…

Here are those eyes tracking me, keeping me close:
Sophie watching me paint

the rituals, I miss the most

9 years…

11:56 pm, it’s past bedtime now.
I don’t have my reminder anymore. She used to lay at my feet while I worked nights on the computer, and she came to know the Windows shut down music. fast asleep, she would hear the doodleoo of the Window’s shutting down and would immediately stir half asleep to her feet, and give a shake, start heading for bed. Waiting on me, looking back at me. Always those eyes, looking at me. How do you get over that? A quick trip outside to go potty – and it was quick – she knew her bedtime bone was waiting on the other end of this ritual. Squat in the yard and run back inside. She liked to eat.

Bring her to the bedroom, and unsnap her collar – slept nekkid- Had to get that collar out of the way to brush that thick long curly blonde hair. She is busy cleaning herself after the bone and potty, so I move on to brushing teeth. While I do, I inevitably pet her with my foot or free hand – I couldn’t get enough of it. Addicting. Once she is ready and I am done, comes the thorough brushing. I began it after she was several months old and we went to a pet store. she was maybe half her adult size and long haired already, and I had no idea what to do with her tangles. We met another Golden Doodle and I asked how they kept his hair so groomed and soft. they just said, “you gotta brush them every night”. So I did. I bought a brush with standard bristles on one side and metal tangle-free spines on the other. though in her younger days, she would try to eat the brush, she eventually began to accept the drill and would just let me brush her as needed. It really was that simple and it worked. She was gorgeous and worth it. But, yes another ritual. I miss it incredibly now. with her diagnosis, I guess I was fortunate to have a few more months of brushing, and I made a point to remember, that some day I would miss this most intimate interaction more than anything. That and her Sophie-hugs. She gave the best Sophie-hugs, and I told her so often.

sophiegoldendoodle 6th birthday
6th birthday