Everyone knows dogs can't live forever. But, somehow, I was just kind of hoping you would.
I often think of you as the start of a love story, you know. In 2003 you were living with Cici (you remember; the one who spoiled you like none other) because Dada was living in the barracks. She went on a vacation and needed a dog sitter, so I spent a week taking care of you. That was the spark that reignited an interest in me for Dada, and the rest is history. Maybe you sparked my interest in him, or maybe I actually just used him to get to you. We'll never really know, will we?
You've been with us since the beginning. You've been with us every step of the way. You were the mediator between 2 cats who were learning to live together when we bought our first home. You were gentle and loving when we brought out first baby home, and despite the tail-jerks and face-slaps you never got tired or annoyed by our growing family. You comforted me and protected me when Dada was in Afghanistan; you even woke me up to let me know there were some hooligans at the corner of our backyard at 3am. You crammed your big ol' body in the back of our cars for all of our road trips, and you were the sweetest dog to Mimi when we stopped at her house along the way. I don't even know if Mimi liked dogs, but she loved you, "Leasle".
You made the trek from Texas to Colorado more than your fair share of times, and then made the long haul to the west coast. You watched William grow, and loved every stage of his development (probably the stage immediately following tail-pulling the most). Then you welcomed another Wallis baby with an open heart...and...whoops, one more. Your patience never wore thin and you have loved those kids more than I knew a dog could.
I wish I could say, with honesty, that there's nothing in the world you loved more than a Wallis baby - but too many know that to not be true. Let's get real. You loved yourself some bread. Hot dog buns anyone? You loved yourself some accidentally-left-out snacks(pizza, Corinne?) You could throw back a 10lb brisket and chocolate chip cookie brownies better than I've ever seen. You had a stomach of steel - truthfully, our pride almost outweighed our annoyance. We almost thought you had met your match and we'd lose you to a whole, cooked rotisserie chicken (bones and all!) You even shocked us by surviving that one, though! In fact, over the last 5 years people were very weary of dog sitting for fear you may die on their watch.
But no, not you, Layla. You stuck it out. Then, when you heard you could make your way back to Killeen you stuck it out even stronger. "One final victory lap before I go," you thought. This is where your journey started, and you were pretty hell-bent that this was where it was going to end. You made it, Layla. You made it home.
My heart is going to break a little bit every time I open that door and don't see your face there to greet us. A piece of me will cry when I put the kids to bed and don't see you standing guard outside their doors. I'll even hurt the first time I realize I don't have to hide my fresh baked goods in the microwave to protect them from you. You have been with us every step of the way, and I can't imagine you not being here as we continue to make this place home. And now you are finally pain free.
You may have been Austin's dog, but you were very much my companion and I hope you know my heart hurts for you. We gave you some extra treats, a little party, and lots of extra love today. We painted your paw prints so we will always have you in our home. And, I hope you know, we sobbed as we let you go. Even though we've gotten busier and you've gotten slower, nothing has changed the fact that we love you more than words can even say. You are a part of this family. Everyone says this, but I know it's true when it's about you: you're one for the record books. You're the best of the best. They say all dogs go to Heaven, Layla, but I don't know for sure if that's true. One thing I do know, though, is they've got a spot up there for you.
Now go run through those pearly gates. Run like your hips don't hurt. Run like you don't have a tumor. And go enjoy a feast of chicken, brisket, and hamburger buns then indulge in some brownies for dessert. Thanks for taking such good care of us, and thanks for being so hard to let go.
You have my heart,
Mommy
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