For My Best Friend

Holly in the Snow

It’s been posted about a few times already, but I wanted to say a few words about a good dog.

Last night, I lost my best friend, my partner-in-crime, my shadow. For 12 years, she was my constant companion, always beside me, always waiting for me. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have known this dog. Holly was the best, and I can’t be convinced otherwise. Yeah, she could be a pill sometimes, barked at EVERY NOISE SHE THOUGHT SHE HEARD, and once ate through her cone of shame and licked her outer suture open, but she was the sweetest, smartest, most fun dog I’ve ever known.

She shook hands, gave high fives, balanced treats on her nose, crawled, and spoke with a loud, ringing voice. She even taught herself how to play dead. Over the past couple of years, she began to lose a step or two, but her spirit never faltered. She was always my little bear, and never changed from that amazing girl. She never met a pool or a tennis ball she didn’t like. And squeaky toys were meant to be ripped apart to attack the damn squeaker within.

She was my roadtripper. From Lubbock to Fort Worth to Corpus Christi, she was awesome in the backseat and longed to feel the breeze in her face. She endured numerous moves, and while I knew this one would be her last, I didn’t expect our time to end so soon, but she had done her duty. She made sure I was safe and settled and that everything would be alright, that we would be alright without her. I made sure to tell her every day that I loved her and give her good head and rump scratches.

As pet owners, we prepare ourselves for this eventuality. We know it’s coming some day (and I knew this was coming for her as well), but it’s never easy, and it never gets any easier. Letting go of family is the hardest thing you’ll ever do in life. Today seems harder than yesterday, and who knows how tomorrow will be. All I know is it will feel lessened without her presence.

I will forever cherish coming home Wednesday evening after work to see her eager, happy face waiting for me at the back door, watching me get out of my car and come inside. That was what she did when she wasn’t with me; she waited for me and was always there for me. She was amazing, remarkable, and unforgettable. I will never forget all the good times we shared.

There will be no one more summer for us, no one last countdown into the pool, but she has eternity for that. Kristen said it best: She’ll be barking at everyone who comes close to the gates of heaven, not to ward them away but to let everyone know a new friend has come to play ball with her.

I’m grateful she never was seriously sick or had any major health issues. She lost some hearing but could still hear a squeaker a mile away and retained the vision of a hawk. I’m also grateful that age can no longer restrain her from the things she loved doing most in her time with me.

I know this is long (and I’m sure more memories will come back to me throughout the days to come), but I could sing her praises all day. Above all, she was a good girl, and I don’t think there’s any higher praise for a dog than that.

I’ll miss you, Holly Bear. Thank you for being my friend.

Holly “Bear” Moore
1.2.06 – 4.11.18