I’ve been trying to write this post for over a week now and just didn’t know where to start. There’s more to say than I can possibly fit in one post. Recently, Amber has gotten more air time than just about anyone else in our family. I’ve written about adopting Amber from the shelter, things people ask about her, and the kind of breeds she looks like. We were just hitting a groove with training her. I could understand her many different kinds of whines, barks, woofs, yelps and coos. She was beginning to be more sociable with friends and neighbors, and we had even had some successful trips to the dog park.
With her long legs and lean frame, Amber was happiest when she was running. Not loping like a goofy dog, but full on sprinting. In the house, it was not cool when she leaped over the back of a couch without much effort when trying to abscond with one of my shoes, but out in the open, her athleticism was a sight to behold.
“She’s like a rabbit,” one woman commented, as Amber bounded around her Golden Retriever.
At one point during our last trip to the dog park, Amber was running the perimeter of the fence with half a dozen small fluffy dogs trying to keep up with her. “It’s like a race track here,” another dog owner laughed.
Later that evening, she yelped by the back door to be let out. It was close to bedtime, and she probably had to do her business in the yard. I let her out and then chatted in the kitchen with my husband. As I started the dishwasher, I thought it was unusual that she hadn’t yelped to be let in yet. I was heading to the door to check on her when the phone rang.
“I think I hit your dog.”
I didn’t expect it to end this way. In my mind, she would live a long life until we were both arthritic old gals slowly strolling around the block. In reality, the end was quick, and I hope, without too much pain. Nothing about this dog was meant to be slow.
Be free, Amber.