The Story of Harley

Harley came into my life almost 10 years ago. I don't remember the exact date, but she was just a few months old, still very much a puppy.

I was living with my then-boyfriend's (now husband) sister and her friend. The friend had three cats so we weren't allowed to have any pets. I had always wanted a dog. I met a girl in my year at grad school who had her own apartment and had a dog and I ended up spending a lot of time with her. We talked about how when we came back from winter break we would move in together somewhere...and I could get a dog.

I was away somewhere, maybe home for Thanksgiving, when a dog wandered up to another friend's house. He let her in and she hopped up on the couch like she owned it. He already had two dogs so wasn't looking to keep her, but remembered that I had spoken, often, of wanting a dog. My friend sent me a picture of her and she was THE CUTEST thing imaginable. We agreed that the dog, soon to be named Harley, would live with my friend and go home with her for winter break until we moved in together at the beginning of January.

For the next several weeks I spent as much time with Harley as I could. I took her for walks, attempted to teach her to potty outside and cuddled with her. She was underweight, but not too much, when she first arrived, so we had to get special puppy for her. She never was a dog that could get fat, but I remember her puppy rolls and how big her feet were, before she grew into them.

I learned that she was a chewer. Many leashes and collars were destroyed. Destroyed pairs of shoes.

But each night, I tucked her into bed with me. Sometimes she would face me and put her paw on my neck or head. Sometimes she I would just hold her as she fell away into puppy snoozes. Sometimes she wanted her own space and slept on a pillow on the floor.

She hated cars. I think she was terrified of them at the beginning. We would be on walks and she would see a car parked on the side of the road and would stop in her tracks. Sometimes I get coax her along, sometimes I would have to carry her past the car. I think maybe her first car ride was when she was abandoned.

If I had to put her in the car I would have to pick her up and place her in. Most of the time she got sick while riding in the car. Eventually, after several weeks of taking her somewhere in the car (either to a friend's house, dog park, or just for  quick ride) she learned to LOVE the car. She would hear the word "car" and would perk her ears and go absolutely crazy. She loved car rides. Even on her last day when I asked if she wanted to get in the car, she perked up.

We had our ups and downs. Sometimes I would get mad at her, sometimes I would annoy her, I'm sure. But she was MY baby. She was MY little girl. And for almost 10 years she was my best friend, my constant companion. For almost 10 years she let me love her and take care of her. For 10 years she rescued me. Now there is  Harley-sized hole in my heart and I'm doing my best to heal, but when she left me she left my heart shattered into a million pieces.

My only solace is that I hope one day she will come back to me, one day she will find me again. But until then I will tell her stories, I will think of her everyday and I will love and miss her forever.

Letters to Harley

Harley, my love, my first baby,

You've been gone 5 days now. My heart is broken. Today is your birthday. You would have been 10. I thought we had much more time than that. I wanted more time than that. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I couldn't save you. I am so sorry that that your last days were filled with doctor appointments and procedures instead of the love and comfort you deserved.

I am so sorry that when your lesions were oozing I wouldn't let you up on the couch or on the bed for fear of getting things dirty. Things can be washed. Things can be cleaned. I chose clean over the comfort that you needed. I chose clean over snuggling you. I am so sorry. I am so sorry I was more worried about doing extra laundry than I was about making you feel better. I thought we had more time. I thought we had years and that you would get better.

I am sorry that when we brought you to the vet on your last day that I just looked at you on the floor. You were looking up at me and I knew something was wrong. You couldn't hold your head up. You couldn't stand on your own. You were looking for love and comfort and I couldn't get down on the floor with you. The next time I held you a few minutes later you weren't looking at me. You were already slipping away.

I hope you know that I loved you then. Even when I may have shooed you away or not let you do something, I always loved you. I love you still. And I am so sorry. I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself for everything that happened. But I hope you're at peace. I hope you know you are loved and that we were there with you at the very end. That mommy held your head and kissed your ear at the very end. That I felt your chest stop rising at the end.

Sometimes I think I see you lying on the couch. Or snoring. Or I see your little foot hanging off the couch. Sometimes I smell your smell; a good warm smell. And I like to think you're close by.

I want you to have fun and be free and get lots of good running and naps in. But then I want you to come home. Come home to me. Come home and let me love you and snuggle you and comfort you. You deserved everything. And I failed. Come home and let me make it up to you. I don't know how to be without you here with me.

I love you and miss you so much.

Love,

your mommy