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  • Sara Moore

Farewell Sweet Sopha

On Thursday we said goodbye to our sweet Sophie.  She was a 9 year old yellow lab, too young to die and too healthy looking to believe something was wrong until the months before her passing.  She jumped like no other dog I've ever met, would greet everyone with a gigantic barking fit then would thread herself through your legs, almost knocking you down if you weren't expecting it.  Sophie was the child we had before we had Z.  She was sweet, frustrating, gentle and a chippie killer if given the opportunity.  She was not my dog for many years.  When we were married and she wasn't even a year old, we got her a pink dog tag at the Fryeburg Fair.  I put Peter's name and number as the contact, knowing she was more his than mine.  When we seperated that February she went with him.  She was his dog, his companion, and security.  I loved her but knew she wasn't mine. 

In the year leading up to her death I taught about 5 workshops on animal communicating.  In each one, I asked them what Sophie had to say.  Every single person said she wanted to see more of me.  This past April she started living on the same schedule my son Z has; week with me, week with Peter.  The week she showed up at my house she had gotten into something rotten and after one round of anti and probiotics she got better.  But she was never quite right.  She'd puke a lot, and on any run or walk she'd chow on the grass and puke it up later.  The vets chalked it up to heartburn, but something else was clearly going on.  It took me a bit to get used to having a dog around, but it turns out I really loved it!

The past few weeks poor sophie was so sick.  She'd get up in the middle of the night and pace and drool, leaving bile covered parallel lines all over the house.  I didn't get angry, but I was worried.  I took her to the vet and so did Peter.  Nothing seemed to help. 

Sopha started loosing weight and soon it was clear she was ready to go.  Even typing that my eyes well up and I'm so sad that she's not here.  I'm so grateful that she made it clear, though, and that for the past few years I've been doing readings for people in the same situation.  The pain of saying goodbye to a loved one falls on the survivor; the ones going are always ok with the transition.  Looking into your dogs eyes as they take their last breath brings reality to the situation and it rips your heart out.

Tonight i went out to get a load of firewood.  The floodlight illuminated the side yard, which is covered in Sophie's tracks.  It made me so sad to know that with the next storm those will be erased forever.  It's only been three days since we said goodbye to her.  The first day was obvioulsy the worst.  Yesterday I teetered between crying all day and just amazement that she was actually gone from this physical plane.  Today I cried when I told someone about the final moments we had and what it was like to be with her in room 6.  The room  you go in at the vet when they know you'll be leaving without your animal compantion physcially at your side.

I miss Sophie.  She was a good girl.  I'm sorry she suffered.  I'm glad I can chat with her.  Just like my mom, they can both come in and say hello whenever they want.  But ph what I wouldn't give for one more kiss, snuggle or moment.  I'm so grateful I got to reconnect with her and be a part of her final year.  Funny how the universe works!  Rest in peace miss Sopha.  I look forward to reuniting with you when my time comes. 

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