:(

[mcgooglykins]

I miss my puppy. At seventeen, you couldn't really call her a puppy anymore, but since she never grew too big to be scooped up and cuddled (if she let you, that is), we never got out of the habit of calling her a puppy while doing those things and/or settling for tickles in just the right spot under her chin. She was a fiercely independent little miss, frighteningly intelligent, not particularly empathetic (to cheer you up she would try to force you to play fetch, because it made her happy, and that's all that really matters, right?), and incredibly cheeky (when we had a pool, she was very fond of jumping at our knees and knocking us in it, fully clothed). She almost never let you take her photograph. Once, as a puppy, she fell asleep in my shoe, and I carried her around in it, laughing, until she woke up and wanted out. She loved to click her nails on tiles and wooden floors. Her favourite thing in the world was wrapping paper, and she could delicately unwrap all our presents for us and then save us all by attacking and shredding the now-liberated paper. She was brave and blustery and ready to eat any dog that was so much bigger than her it could swallow her whole, but that one time she met a six-week-old golden retriever puppy she clawed her way up my face in terror. When Scamp went blind, she would lead him to the ball and let him run back with it during games of fetch, so he didn't miss out. She was a gem. We had her put down on Saturday, after we believe she suffered a stroke, and could no longer coordinate her back legs. I miss her. I know I always will. I also know that I'll hear phantom 'you aren't paying me attention/I want the food that's cooling on the bench/I'm bored and up to mischief' scratching on the good furniture for years to come.