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.