Dear Diego

Adopted Life
October 3, 2020 – February 7, 2023
 
Diego,
 
My sweet boy, we fought so hard.
 
In a way, I’ve been grieving your loss since the beginning, afraid that our time would be cut short rather than end in your old age. It’s not fair.
 
Honey I’m sorry. There will be a part of me that wishes I had your muzzle on that morning so when trying to keep you from that other jumping dog you couldn’t have hurt me. I forgive you, please know that if it were only for me, I would never give up on you. It was so hard. I was more afraid on our walks, and yet as you put your muzzle on every day after I still saw you learning—improving. You stopped rubbing it against my legs and just got ready to go outside. It’s so tough seeing progress and yet feeling defeated.
 
As we went to the vet again and home that weekend you just couldn’t calm down, and it felt like more evidence that I wouldn’t always be able to control your environment. The risk for others will always be there. Even when you tore your claw running around outside on the ice, I couldn’t help you. Taking you to the vet to fix it would restart the trauma all over again, all the hair-raising moments. You’ve been through so much.
 
Diego, I love you, and you made me so proud. My goal of the year was to have you stay with someone so that I could start to travel and we found someone who understood you and you were such a good boy. You’re incredibly smart and so full of personality. Training you taught me so much.
 
You have been one of my great loves that will always have a piece of my heart—our bebé. Your smile drew me in. Your excitement for the little things like going on car rides and getting ready for a walk warmed my heart. Your love of sneaking a full butter tray fascinated me. You were my shadow.
 
I see you in the corner of the bedroom as I work, waiting for that gentle paw at the end of the day that says it’s time to be done as you roll over for pets. I see you when I open a door, waiting with those big eyes. I see you skating yourself along the edge of the table for a treat. At the dog park with Benny, I imagined a ghost of you, running alongside him. I miss you.
 
I even miss the attitude when you would sigh and go to face the wall in your crate because you were annoyed that I left home so many times that day. You managed to give a complete cold shoulder during pill time many days and still be charming. I miss your deliberate need for attention when Andrew would come over, and you relentlessly humping your bed and carrying it around the room because it was really funny. I miss the laughs and your goofy behavior.
 
I miss the nights together watching Nancy Drew in Purvasha’s room…I remember that time that she was concerned about the plant next to your bed being bad for you, but she watered it only to find out it was fake and it makes me smile. I miss all of us just sitting in the hallway together not ready to sleep.
 
I miss the surprise cuddles when you would jump onto my lap during a movie. I miss watching you take treats from grandma and grandpa and then go lay on their spots on the couch. I miss watching you run wild and curiously at the farm, even the moments where you found the possum. You radiated joy as you road around in the ranger.
 
…That first time you jumped off the pontoon after me as if you weren’t sure if I could swim and that bolted right back once you realized things were fine. You never were a big fan of being in the water. You looked less than impressed by paddle boarding and tubing, but I’m glad we gave it a second try.
 
I miss watching you thrive and learn to accept pets and love from Mitch and then more people. I miss watching you climb up and get cozy next to aunt Brittany on the couch. I miss watching your relationship grow with Benny as your cousin and best friend—all the couch sparring matches with pillow shields and late-night walks. I miss watching you stare out the window at your nemesis.
 
You challenged me to love unconditionally through good and bad. You tested my limits emotionally and mentally as we trained and battled through the baggage that life placed on you. I had to rely on God so much through this journey that it has changed me.
 
I hope that death is just a doorway for you to find peace that knows no bounds, live untethered, unrestrained by what held you back in this world. I believe that when God made dogs as one of the beautiful gifts in his creation, that they don’t just end as ash, but have a special place in heaven with us.
 
Rest easy knowing that you found your family, and then run sweet boy. We love you.
 
You’re finally free.
 
Love,
Mom