All Dogs Go To Heaven

Well, I've finally had a chance to sit down and reflect on Pinkie's passing. I suppose there's lots to think about, but I'm stymied when I try to put it all down linearly. My mind keeps jumping from memory to memory. So I think that's how I'll attack this one.

I remember her, one day, in our old house chasing us around the family room in our old house. Back then, there was still plastic tile outside the kitchen. As she tried to round the corner into the kitchen, she peeled out. I remember her paws scratching at the plastic trying to gain purchase as inertia carried her into the TV stand which she crashed into a moment later. I remember the winters when she would disappear against the white of the snow. All you'd see were the three black dots of her eyes and nose and the pink of her collar. I remember how Pinkie liked to sleep on the bed and always like to sleep against my leg. This inevitably ended up with Pinkie in the middle of the bed and me falling off the one side or the other. I remember how Pinkie would wake up from a nap, face hair all disheveled. With her paws, she's rub the cobwebs from her eyes. And then she'd stretch her back by straightening her back legs and dragging the tops of those paws along the floor. I remember how every homecoming we were greeted with jumping yelps and tail wagging so hard that her body curved into a C. I remember how deftly Pinkie was able to dodge people's feet. I can hear her aghast cry when she wasn't able to avoid a shoe on one of her paws. I remember how if you gently moved one of the hairs of her floppy ear, she'd twitch it. If you kept pestering her, she'd sigh and move her head. I remember how in the quiet of the evening's she would look eagerly for a hand or foot to lick, most likely stationary in front of a TV. I remember how she would shake and whine when a thunderstorm boomed outside. I remember how she'd wait on top of the couch by the window sill, perched so that she could see the car drive into the garage when we returned home. I remember her eagerness to get our attention when she noticed us leaving the house and her elation at being picked up which would mean she was coming along. I remember how when you were picking her up, she would give a little jump to give you a hand. I remember how, when you were giving her a bath in the laundry sink, shivering in the water, she'd lean one side against the side of the sink in a vain attempt to keep at least one part of herself dry. I remember how much she loathed having the knots combed from her coat. I remember when we let her silky white coat grow till it nearly touched the floor. I remember how she lost her voice when we went to the Philippines for a month. How her coat would lose its shine when we were away for long. I especially remember how much she loved lying on your lap or between your shins. I remember how she would "dig" a bed for herself in the couch or carpet before circling and lying down. I remember how she'd give a half-bark in her sleep while dreaming. I remember playing with her in the pool in Puerto Rico. Her strategy for getting to the stair case was to swim to the nearest wall and swim in a counterclockwise direction. I remember taking her for walks and how, after she'd finish her business, she'd make a show out of kicking her hind paws, toes pointed, ostensibly to spread out her mess. Although the only thing it accomplished was kicking up a few blades of grass.

Pinkie was a great companion. She was always there for ya. You could never be sad for long when she was around. A creature of routine, you could always know what mood she was in based on the time of day. Although I've been away from home the last eight or so years, every time I came home, she greeted me the same as if I'd left to get groceries earlier that day. And vice-versa. I'll miss seeing her the next time I come home. She lived a great life and had her place in our family. May she rest in peace.