When I�was 11 years old, our family Golden Retriever, Arizona, bit me in the face and I had to undergo oculoplastic surgery to repair the damage around my eye.� Arizona was taken to the Humane Society and I donapos;t know what happened to him from there.� Within a few months I was back up and running, and by the time the next summer arrived, it was almost as if nothing had happened.� Just like most families in the area, we spent many of those summer evenings at the Dairy Queen in Keego Harbor.� This DQ was completely outdoors, so a lot of people brought their dogs with them to play with while waiting in line and eating.� Despite what had happened, I�didnapos;t retain any fear of dogs.� Instead, I spent a lot of my time at that DQ, standing in line, wishing I had my own dog to play with.� My mom took notice of this.
As fall approached, I went back to school and returned to my routine.� One night after dinner, she told me that we had to go to someoneapos;s house to test their exercise machine.� I was a little confused as to why I had to come, but I complied.� When we arrived at the door, we were greeted by the loud barking of a Black Labrador, but once we entered the home, the barking subsided and the dog became as friendly as could be.� We took a seat in the living room of the house and I played with the dog as I waited for news of the exercise machine.� As I played, the owner showed us all the tricks that the dog could do.� After a little while, I finally asked my mom what was happening with the exercise machine.� She finally couldnapos;t hold it in anymore and told me that the dog was the machine.� I had been brought along to see if I got along with the dog, and once I did, the deal was set.� The owners of the dog, after having it for four years, were leaving on a Mormon mission and were unable to take the it with them.� We drove home with you that night and from then on our lives were a lot brighter.
You took an instant liking to my mom, as you tried to fit your giant black lab body on her lap on the way home.� You loved my step-dad, Marty, because he would take you to grassy fields at night where you could run free.� You loved my sister, Jess, for remembering to always walk you after school and take you for car rides once she got her license.� Then there was me, still a child of 12.� When we got back home that first night, I let you chase me around the house, jumping over furniture and burning off energy.� We kept this going until the family upgraded to furniture that you and I werenapos;t allowed to jump over.� Later that first night, you found her way up to my twin-size bed and jumped in.� I awoke the next morning to a bed full of dog urine, and realized you had either been frightened of her new home or had just marked your territory.� Either way, you would become inseparable from my bed.� Some nights I�would head upstairs to my bed only to find you sprawled out, snoring, and completely cutting off most of the bed from me.� Other nights, I would get to sleep first, only to wake up in the morning with you head using my feet as a pillow.
Soon after you arrived, we had to move all of our fragile objects to higher locations to avoid your rapidly wagging tail.� One day, in fact, you wagged it so hard into the wall that you needed stitches and one of those special cones over your head to stop you from biting it.� Some days you would run away and return with a stomach ache and other times we would return home to find you had gone through the garbage.� Even when things were bad, though, you were always able to give us joy.
As I kept growing, the twin-sized bed we shared became smaller and smaller.� Finally, in order to make room for both of us, I was upgraded to a double-bed, and eventually to a queen.� Through it all, you always found your way up to my bed.� When I would go away to camp for the summer, you would sleep in my room until my scent faded away.� When I moved away to college and you began to show signs of your age, you still managed to continue the same pattern.
After graduating college, I�moved to China for a year.� During that year, I received periodic updates about you from my parents.� You were slowly becoming deaf and arthritis and cataracts were setting in.� You slept in my bed for the first few months, but as always, my scent faded and you found a new place to sleep until I�returned.� When I came home for a few months after China, I could see how much you had aged.� You would only walk upstairs at night when you had to and you were now completely deaf.� One thing that still hadnapos;t gone was your sense of smell.� You were still able to find her way into my room at night and smell if I was there.� Some nights you would jump onto my bed, and other nights you simply didnapos;t have enough energy and curled up on my floor.
Within a few months of moving home, I decided to move out to LA.� During that time, I continued to receive updates from my parents about you.� I returned home twice since then, and you were no longer able to jump onto my bed.� Your vision was almost gone and arthritis was really taking its toll.� In your mind, though, you still thought she was a puppy.� Every once in a while, you would get up a good run when you were on a walk and still had a bark loud enough to scare away any uninvited visitor.
The last time I went home, with no plans to return again soon, I knew it would be the last time I would see you.
On Monday, my phone rang, and my mom told me that you were unable to stand up.� Arthritis and congestive heart failure had finally caught up with you.� They took you to the veterinarian, who told them they would have to put you to sleep.� After 12 years of giving us joy, love and exercise, your time had finally come.� Neither you nor anyone could do anything more.� Thanks for everything.
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