You'll Always Be My Baby
This is a painful story to tell, but often the most painful are the stories that need to be told.
August 12, 2018
We drove 250 miles to find you. Our beautiful baby boy. You were pure black with a slight tinge of gray on your nose. The softest, furriest, cutest little boy I could ever imagine. You were my boy.
I found you and you were perfect, a ball of goofy fun and potential energy. Then about 6 months later, you had ballooned to a wonderful ball of energy 5 times your size. A spectacular gray and black gentle giant with the heart of a lion. You made our family whole and our days complete. We spent the right amount of quality time. The joy of gazing outside, laying with your belly up and curled body, and the nudge to go out for walks or play with toys. Everything you did was for your own wonder or your family. You gave us all your best side eye, your love and the best huggies.
We found you after a long search and an immense amount of pain already, we had a hole. A puppy-sized hole that needed your unconditional love. When families feel incomplete, sometimes parents will think about babies but you had everything we ever could hope for. The curiosity, the wisdom and the open heart for each of us. You were the best of us, including the awareness of who needed you most. At any point in our lives you adapted to our family and made your presence known. If anyone could have been the right being, it was you.
My oldest and clearest memory is of you in our backyard, in a small pen with me being an AWFUL mom spraying cold water and trying to bathe you. Such a crazy and inhumane moment but after that I gathered you in a warm towel. Never would I try that again, the next time you had a home bath was in our bathtub because that's the right place for a baby. Warm water and a right amount of bubbles. Stupid me thinking that animals could handle the cold water out of the nozzle. You were a smart cookie and that chilly September day wasn't nearly warm enough for you.
We all learn from our mistakes and you were kind enough to forgive all of them. Even when you came to me and tried to tell me you weren't feeling good, you were patient. You were loving. You were kind.
After many years of love and play, your breath became shallow, and when we went in for a check up your tongue wasn't as pink as it had been. You tried so hard to tell us something wasn't right. But still you rested and gave it one last try with your medicine. You bounced back so quickly and were sure you were on your way to many more years.
April 12, 2026
7 years and 320 days wasn't long enough for your sweet soul. But you knew it was time and even after you left us, you helped me through the worst part. Acceptance.
Now you have a little brother you'll never meet, but he's doing his best to settle in and win your Dad over. Some days I laugh now, and look at your photos and smile. You were the biggest ball of fur, the best nap partner and a huge part of our lives.
I've done my best to show him your trees, his trees. He's learned his backyard much faster than I expected, and he's meeting your friends. He plays with your toys you left behind, and smells you in each room. He knows when Mommy needs a minute, and how to calm us down. I can't help thinking he knows you.
This year is a tough one, but it taught me that I am for sure a dog mom, and that you'll always be my baby.
RIP Pepper ♥️🐾
-Til the last drop, N
