Goodbye, old friend.
I first met you on April 15, 1998 at an animal shelter in Alvin, Texas. Amid the noisy barking of all the other dogs in their cages, you sat beside me quietly. You laid your head on my knee, closed your eyes halfway, and soaked up the petting. If you had been a cat, I'm sure you would have been purring. Little did I know then how characteristic that was of your personality.
You were just exactly the kind of dog I was looking for and praying for: calm, affectionate, gentle, and a snuggler. And a beautiful tri-color beagle. You were God's gift to me, after a heartbreaking previous attempt to adopt another beagle. You were a tangible reminder that He loved me, his child, and that He does indeed keep his promises to give good gifts to his children and to cause all things to work together for the good of those who love Him.
We went through a lot together, you and I.
When I found you, you were dirty, covered with fleas, overweight, and had a bad case of heartworms. And severe separation anxiety -- which was understandable considering I was your fourth home in three months. In time, all these problems were resolved and you became a sleek and trim beagle with a beautifully soft fur coat that everyone loved to pet.
You were good for me. You helped me stay in shape by taking me for long walks every day (twice a day for many years). We explored a lot of territory in Dickinson, Webster, and Friendswood. Your adorable good looks were the icebreaker that caused me to meet many neighbors that I would have been too shy to talk to otherwise. Your need for routine helped me develop a more consistent time with the Lord. You laid beside me in my ... excuse me, OUR ... recliner every morning while I read my Bible, prayed and wrote in my journal. Then you eagerly jumped up when I asked, "Do you want to go for a walk?" or "Are you hungry?" You kept me from staying too long at work because I had to go home and take care of Marley. You were always content just to be with me.
You made me and many other people laugh at your antics as we discovered you would do just about anything for food. You never were one for playing like most dogs, but you sure did love your toys that I filled with treats. And you learned to do all kinds of tricks for food -- begging, shaking hands, rolling over, turning around, and of course, sitting and lying down. Sometimes you would get so excited about the prospect of a treat that you would do all your tricks one after the other instead of listening to what I told you to do.
You made me and many other people laugh at your antics as we discovered you would do just about anything for food. You never were one for playing like most dogs, but you sure did love your toys that I filled with treats. And you learned to do all kinds of tricks for food -- begging, shaking hands, rolling over, turning around, and of course, sitting and lying down. Sometimes you would get so excited about the prospect of a treat that you would do all your tricks one after the other instead of listening to what I told you to do.
You so patiently chaperoned Ronnie & me as we were courting and preparing for marriage. And you endured the arrival of three new babies who kept stealing the attention that used to be yours alone. You learned as they grew older that they were of some benefit -- many crumbs have fallen from our table and you faithfully licked them all up.
The passing years slowly robbed you of your hearing, dimmed your vision, and finally stole your appetite. As hard as it was for me to make the decision to say good-bye, I know it was the right thing and the right time. On September 22, 2008 I took you to the vet one last time. You lay so quietly in my arms as we waited. You weighed almost nothing. I petted you for a long time. Then I said goodbye and you fell asleep in my arms -- your favorite place to be.
I will miss you, Marley. You were a dear friend and the best dog in the world. Thanks for letting me be your mama for these past ten and a half years.
