This post is one of those that I hate to write. I've sat here staring at this screen for the last 10 minutes. Just hoping that maybe the time hasn't really come. But it has.
Minnie, the first dog I ever truly loved, died over night. She was 14 years old, so it wasn't unexpected. But still very hard.
We got Minnie as a puppy. She was essentially a bribe -- if I stayed in Girl Scouts in 8th grade then we could get a dog. I agreed. When we went to get a puppy at the breeders, Minnie was the first dog I picked up. She promptly peed all over me, and I was in love.
Minnie was the best dog. Best puppy. Best everything. She was smart, kind, and listened so well. She loved chasing balls and shredding all types of paper. And she had a great nose. She could smell out a piece of food, or a ball behind furniture better than any dog I've ever seen. Even in the end, when she was blind, she would recognize me from my smell.
I believe I'll see Minnie again and that she is in a better place. And I look forward to the day when we can once again play ball together.
Rest in peace, sweet Minnie girl. We all love you. And will miss you dearly.
Minnie ~ February 15, 1999 - April 30, 2012
