About ten years ago I committed to a relationship that would result in the creation of a wonderful family.
I found a life long partner that has become at first a fabulous step-mother, and now a powerful leading lady and the mother of our beautiful Edie.
What I also gained, all those years ago, was another best friend.
A canine companion.
A true dog’s dog.
One dog to rule them all.
She was always there when everyone was asleep.
She was home when Sam was at work.
She was there, in the middle of the floor, amidst all the noise of band practice. Week after week.
Marion was the true master of her domain. Deft at keeping our property line secure.
Opening the garage door every time meant a greeting from an old pooch, excited to have a friend home at last. One must proceed slowly into that garage, I was always afraid I would hit her with the car since she couldn’t see or hear all that well any more.
In the hot, humid days of summer, how could you not be a little angry when she would dig a pit in the middle of the garden to lie in and keep cool?
Lately, hip dysplaisa would slow her down significantly. That wouldn’t stop her from taking a romp through a pile of leaves or a quick dip in the Sauk River as the perfect cap to a day of leisurely existence.
She was truly our best buddy.
In her old age, her favorite thing to do was just roam around. Sam put a doggie door in the garage so she could more or less move about as she pleased.
Mostly she just wanted to come in the house and then go outside.
In and out.
All day every day.
It sure got annoying from time to time but now that she’s gone I will very much miss it.
In fact, my wife and I catch ourselves looking out the back patio door out of habit to see if Marion is standing there, waiting (sometimes) patiently to come in the house. Old habits die hard.
Fortunately, baby Edie is too young to understand that her pal won’t be coming through the door again to lick her face and make her angry. Although, Edie does peer toward the spot that the dog bed was from time to time, wondering.
Where a puzzle was once completed, perfectly arranged on the coffee table, a significant piece will forever be missing.
I love you for all time Marion, the grand matriarch of our family.
Rest in Peace.
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