We lost a good friend yesterday. In many ways, Abbey was the perfect dog for us. She gave us so much more than we gave to her. I write this mostly for myself and others who loved our pup.
She was born on a farm in Booneville, MO. She joined our family when she was six weeks old.
We got her because we had always wanted a dog. But in the end, we really got a family member.
The early days were filled with lots of smiles and nips.
She made more than her fair share of messes.
And water was always her happy place.
She was well read.
The greatest of adventurers.
She wasn’t allowed on the furniture… But she did have her own futon.
And a way of getting what she wanted/stretching the rules.
When hotels charged hefty pet fees, she got her money’s worth out of the second bed.
She always impressed with her ladder climbing skills.
She destroyed her fair share of things but rarely anything that was valuable. Mostly cheap toys.
She had some of the best of friends
A playful spirit.
And would swim anywhere at any time.
She was the first of many Taylor “dogchilds”.
She never minded being packed into a car that had no room for her, just so long as she got to go.
Uncle Pete was near and dear to her.
She delighted in her annual birthday Ice-cream cone.
She knew all our secrets and kept them well.
Aunt Bec’s “chimpmunk call” always provided good entertainment.
Explored so much of Colorado with us.
And slept far better than we ever did on our expeditions.
She was our constant companion when we were told we’d never have children.
In 2010 life changed.
Abbey took it in stride, claiming Mason as her own.
Mason was drawn to her like a moth to flame.
They spent countless hours together, she, showing him his new big world.
They delighted in each other.
More than words can show.
As he grew up; she grew old, but always together.
She endured countless abuses without ever showing malice.
She was the solution to most of life’s problems.
Best of friends.
In all things.
At all times.
Day after day.
In 2013 and 2015 life changed again.
As is often the case, with having kids, she took a back seat to the needs of our new children.
She never got bitter or callous, still offering love whenever the opportunity arose.
She was my constant office companion through late nights and early mornings.
Every single website and video I’ve ever made she helped with.
But, in the end, Amy was always Abbey’s human that she held in the highest regard.
Even when they were at odds, they always struck me as being carbon copies of each other.
They shared joy, sorrow, frustration and every emotion that can be shared with a four legged friend.
Amy taught her everything she knew.
And then yesterday was the end.
There’s many more pictures I wish we had. I wish we had a picture of her with her friend Iris. They shared a special bond built over years of treats passed through the back fence. I wish I had a picture of how she would sit majestically in the yard watching over her domain.
After looking through these pictures it would be easy to assume that our lives are filled with nothing but joy, laughter and love. Rarely do we, any of us, capture moments when life is hard, when the tears are falling or when our anger is the only thing that’s real. Abbey experienced all of our highest highs and our lowest lows. I remember times when both Amy and I have sobbed over hardships with Abbey’s fur drying our tears. Abbey filled voids for us that we didn’t know we needed filled. During the season we struggled with infertility her presence was needed more than we could have ever known. She was God’s comfort to us while He wrote a bigger story for our lives. As that story unfolded children found their way into our hearts via adoption and pregnancy. As the demands of raising our children grew, Abbey graciously took a back seat but still was available whenever time allowed.
She was stubornly committed to being a constant in our lives.
All in all, that same stubbornness is found in the other five of us, which made her a perfect fit for our family.