Sally was a warrior.  A saint sent to this world to love.  To give love, to teach love, to receive love, to be love.  She was my Sally girl.  A special soul with a wise way about her.  She was graceful.  She was brave.  She was gentle.  She was fierce.  She was an observer and a caretaker.

Sally crossed the rainbow bridge yesterday to run free in the light.  Less than an hour before she stepped onto the bridge, a young cardinal flew into the dog run and perched himself on a budding tree branch on the cusp of a green explosion that only springtime can tease.  The cardinal chirped and sang as if to whistle Sally along to join him.

In that moment, the weight of the world came off of my shoulders.  Sally had been begging me to let her go but I was numb to it.  She was the last physical piece of Scott.  She helped me heal from one of the most painful wounds a human’s heart and soul can endure.  Saying goodbye to her would mean saying goodbye to Scott… again.

Sally’s death was incredibly peaceful.  She was at home in her dog bed, letting the feast of delicious smoked salmon rest in her belly.  She was tired.  She knew I loved her and she knew she was safe.  She knew it was okay to let go of me because she was going home to Scott.

Sally never let her lack of a fourth leg get her down.  She was a fighter.  Strangers often let out a sympathetic, three syllable, multi note “ahhhhhh” when they noticed her back left leg missing.  Frequently asked, “How’d she lose her leg”?  I appreciated Scott’s annoyance with this question not long after she came into my life.  My favorite response, though I never dared to use it, “my apartment building has a strict weight limit on pets”.

A second popular question was “How old is she?”  And the truth was we didn’t really know.  Rescued by Scott in 2006, the best guess was she was between one and three years old at the time.

Strangers also commented about what a gorgeous dog she was.  What a proud dog she was.  And what a loyal dog she was.  This, all picked up on the sidewalks by strangers.  She was a gorgeous, proud, loyal dog.  I was lucky to be hers.

She was sweet with babies and children.  She didn’t mind other dogs but if they appeared to be playing or having fun, Sally was the first one to break up the fun!  I teased her as being a “fun-hater”.  I think it was more of her caretaker nature to ensure no one got hurt.   As though to say,  “Break it up, kids.  Ain’t nobody got time for fun”.

Sally and I shared a fear of sidewalk grates.  We also shared a love of hiking and long car rides.  She didn’t love the water but she loved how happy the water made me and amused me with several boat rides and forced beach swimming sessions.

Although saying goodbye was not easy, I am comforted in knowing our love was mutual and purposeful.  It was destiny and it taught me things I cannot put into words.

Continue to be brave, Sally girl.  I’ll see you again.

“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard”.  – Winnie the Pooh