Saying farewell to Sophie
On the morning of March 14th, my wife and I had to make the decision that no pet owner ever wants to make: we had to have our 14-year-old Bichon Frise, Sophie, put down. For a dozen years, she was our first baby and the queen of our roost. She was the sweetest, fluffiest, prettiest puppy that God ever created, and Emily and I were so lucky to be chosen as her mom and dad. She was born on February 21, 2011, and arrived as an early birthday gift to Emily, just two days after her second birthday. Emily had insisted on getting a dog, which I didn’t want because my parents gave us their dog when they moved away, and he had passed away the previous July. I didn’t want another pet because I couldn’t face the pain of losing another animal. Now, that’s exactly what we are going through, but I can’t imagine the last twelve years without Sophie. More than anything, Sophie was a lifeline for her mommy. She was with Emily during two mental breakdowns, a diagnosis of a congenital heart condition, and many other hardships and joys. Before we even knew Emily had heart problems, Sophie would lay on her chest, trying to heal her before we knew what was wrong. We couldn’t figure out why, in October 2013, Sophie was constantly laying on Emily’s belly. We would later find out that Sophie was trying to comfort Emily, who was pregnant with our only daughter. Bella and Sophie were sisters in every sense of the word. Sophie would patiently let Bella dress her up in whatever costume she chose, always be her student when Bella played school, and ride along as her passenger in the electric Jeep around the yard. From the first day Bella was born, she and Sophie belonged to one another. We brought Bella home from the hospital, set her car seat on the floor, and let Sophie sniff her. Not long after, Sophie would sit on the edge of the couch to keep a napping Bella from rolling off. She was also quick to fetch Emily if she heard Bella crying before we did. They were also tremendously protective of each other, but insanely jealous of our attention. They were as much sisters as a dog and human could be. This is a tremendous loss for Bella, especially after having to put her cat down just a month ago. We are so grateful for the kind, patient, and efficient services we received from my former schoolmate, Dr. Tiffanie Walters of Animal Care Clinic in Wytheville, and her wonderful vet technicians, Katie and Lynn. They were exceptional and did their best to make us comfortable during this loss. They gave Sophie the best of care, and for that, we will be eternally grateful. There are so many of my friends who were honorary family to Sophie. I know you hurt with us, and we appreciate the love you had for her. Thank you for helping us give her the best life we knew how. My extended family was Sophie’s family, too. She loved being the spoiled “grand-dog.” She thought my mother was the most wonderful person on Earth, next to Emily. We couldn’t even say “Grandmommy” without Sophie running to the door, barking excitedly, thinking my mother had come for a visit. When we couldn’t afford vet visits, Grandmommy always rescued us. Had it not been for my mom, we would have lost Sophie a few years ago when I bad urinary tract infection almost took her one Christmas. It was a malignant eye tumor that finally claimed her at fourteen years of age. From me, she quickly got the nickname “Monkey” because she was into everything. #MonkeySoph was the only hashtag I ever used. I always said I couldn’t live without “Monkey Soph Cotton,” which was a term I coined because for the softness of her fluffy head. “Give Daddy cotton,” I would say as she would put her head where my hand could reach it. Oftentimes, she would tease me by moving her head as soon as my hand touched it. If I hadn’t petted her sufficiently, she would paw the footrest of my wheelchair, knowing I’d continue petting her until she’d had enough. I would also ask for “lamb chops,” which meant I would kiss her ears, the fur of which looked like the fleece of a lamb. I got my lamb chops and cotton just before she slipped away, with the final assurance that her daddy loved her. I hope she carries with her, across the Rainbow Bridge, the love that we all had for her. I know when she crossed it, she took a large part of our hearts with her. There are people and other animals in our family who have gone before her, and I know they are in Heaven, looking after her. But I just want her here with us. The silence of the house after coming home from the vet’s office is miserably deafening. I worry most about Emily, because Sophie was by her side during the darkest recesses of her depression, and was often her only lifeline. I also worry immensely about my daughter, who has slept beside Sophie every night for years. There has not been a day in her almost eleven years of life when Sophie has not been a significant part of it. There may be other animals in our future, but I will still protest, just as I did when we first got Sophie. No one will ever replace my cotton-headed little love. That cotton was so special because it belonged to a beautiful little dog with a heart as rare as her fluff. I will never feel that cotton again, nor will I get to look into those precious big brown eyes and be completely smitten, as I was every day for the last twelve years. Sophie gave so much more than I could have ever…