Skully was put to sleep on Friday, September 21st, 2007. My heart and my home both feel empty, my eyes sting from the tears that won't stop.
Skully came to live with me on July 5th, 2002. The same day as my cousin's funeral, and the same day that not one but FOUR friends moved out of state. She saved me. We didn't have any kind of adjustment period, we just WERE. We went everywhere together: on walks, to visit my folks, out to the country, to the park, on hikes, and on car rides for quick errands. Her middle name, Potatoes, came during the first week I had her, when we got in the car one day. She wasn't aware that she needed to stay in the back seat, for her own safety, and was trying to climb into shotgun. Instead of cursing at her, I yelled, "Skully.....POTATOES," and it stuck.
When I surfed the web on my laptop in bed, she was there, and pawed at my arm when it was time to stop. She always knew when I needed her, and I knew when she needed me. Call it co-depency, I call it doggie soulmates. The instant I met her, even before she was living with me, I loved her.
I remember taking her up to Mt. Falcon park for the first time, where they really aren't supposed to go off-leash, but we let her go to run through a big, grassy meadow. She looked so happy, running through the grasses, with a big, puppy smile on her face. Another walk, along the Platte River Trail to the south of us, was also a big source of amusement for her. There were these tiny little frogs, hopping all along the trail. She thought they were quite fun to stalk, and she kept trying to polar bear them with her front paws.
The second place we lived together, in downtown Denver, was for a short time, but was where she met her first dog friend, Hoover. He was a black lab, and lived across the alley. She used to watch out from our bedroom window for him to be outside. She'd see him, and cry at me mercilessly until we'd take her out to play. They used to run and run in the little side yard, and when it snowed, they'd busy themselves digging and digging, looking for something underneath the snow.
When we lived in Littleton, Skully got to go to daycare. She loved to go there every Friday and play & socialize with all the other doggies. She always knew when we were going there, and would freak out accordingly.
Shortly after her daycare closed down, we met a puppy, who was destined to become a little brother for Skully. We introduced them, and they got along, so he got to come home and complete our little family. We named him Satchel Porkchop Squishyface. It took Skully a bit to understand that she wasn't being replaced, and that she still had all of the same priveleges as before. Once she caught on, she loved having another dog around to snuggle and play with.
At any rate, rather than keep going on and on, recounting all of my sweet memories of my baby girl, I'll leave it at this, for now, anyway.
And last night, we got back her ashes and her memorial plaque. It was a bittersweet moment; getting her back makes me feel whole again, but she's not here anymore to "mer" at me, or give raspberry kisses too anymore.
