a risk-taker. Riley was never off leash in an unfenced area. There are plenty of people who take risks with their dogs. Aaron used to let Roxy off leash all the time. More than once we had to chase her for miles to get her back. She ran back and forth across roads, day and night. She eventually learned her lesson, but not without some risk.
Riley was only off leash at the (fenced) dog park, on a hike that was far away from any roads (and even then, only sometimes), and on the front step of my parent's house. I only let her off leash on the front step of the house because we practiced for months beforehand letting her off leash in front of my apartment. The front door of my apartment was surround by a gate, so it was safe to practice there. We would come home from a walk or from the dog park, I would tell Riley to sit, and then I would take her leash off and she would go inside. She always went inside after I took her leash off at the front step. Always. She never even looked back. She was always hot, tired, and thirsty. She couldn't wait to get inside to get a drink and lay down.
There were plenty of times that I wished I could let Riley off the leash in an unfenced area. She was always good about staying pretty close to me, and if she got too far away, she always came to me when I called her. I always thought it would probably be okay if I let her off leash more, but I never did. I'm not a risk-taker. I saw Roxy run those few times and told myself I would never do that with my dog. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Riley
On Wednesday I lost her. We were doing our normal routine. I had just gotten back from vacation, it was so nice to see her little smiling face and stub-tail wagging when she saw me. Michael's friends were in town, so we chatted for a while, and I also had to work in the afternoon. By the time I had time to take her to the dog park, it was getting kind of late, it was close to sunset, but I decided to take her anyway. Being at the dog park after dark was nothing new to us...in the winter time it was practically our only option, and I promised when I adopted her that I would take her everyday if it was at all possible, no matter how warm or cold, even if that meant taking her after sunset. So, without even thinking twice about it, I leashed her up and off we headed.
We had a great time at the park, like we always do. There were a few dogs there when we first got there, but as it got darker, they all slowly started to disappear. It was cooling off and the afternoon storms were blowing away, leaving the sky full of big, puffy clouds that were painted pink and purple in the sunset. I stopped to take a couple of pictures. I walked around the dog park finding as many balls as I could in the last bits of light. As soon as I found one, I would throw it as far away as I could, and she would go chasing after it. She always was one of the fastest dogs at the park. Chasing tennis balls made her so happy, you could tell that it gave her pure joy. She rarely brought the balls back (for Riley, the bliss was in the hunt), but I never cared. She would chase the ball down and grab it, maybe jog with it in her mouth for a while, then drop it and look at me to let me know she was ready for me to throw another ball. I threw her as many balls as I could that day, until it got too dark to see. Then I walked around the dog park a couple of more times. Riley would follow me around...not too closely, but always within sight. Sometimes she would come sprinting up to me and run right into me. I would pet her hard behind the ears and tell her she was a good girl. When she followed closely I would hold my hand up at my side and say "nose," and she would jump straight up and hit her nose to the palm of my hand.
After we had been at the dog park for 45 minutes or so (should we have stayed longer? or gone earlier while there was still light left?), I decided it was time to go. I never had to chase her down or even tell her to come with me when it was time to leave the dog park. All I had to do was walk to the gate, and she would come running behind and follow me through. She never wanted me to leave without her. I never would have. I told her to sit and I put her leash on, then we walked home. She was panting hard and stayed right by my side all the way back home. She was tired, and happy.
When we got to the front porch, I did what I always did. I told her to sit, and she obeyed right away. She sat on the second step, not the first one like she usually did, but I didn't think it would matter (did it matter?). I took her leash off, patted the top of her head, and turned to open the door. When I looked back she was gone. She had never done that before. Never.
She had ran to the edge of the front yard and stopped. I called her to come back, but at the same time as I said come, I also took a step toward her. When I took a step forward, she ran further down the sidewalk. This scarred me a little bit, but I figured it was kind of late, so there probably wouldn't be too much traffic. I walked closer to her, tried to tell her to come, but she ran a little further down the sidewalk. She was four houses away. Four.
I saw the people on the other side of the street just before she did, but as soon as she saw them, she started running toward them. She always loved people. She would always go right up to a stranger, sit down right next to them, and wait for them to pet her. When I saw the people walking on the other side of the street, at first I was relieved. I knew she would run right up to them and sit down, and then they could grab her collar and I would bring her back home.
I don't know where the car came from. It was going so fast. I didn't see it until Riley was already in the street. I don't think she saw it until it hit her. I can't stop seeing that car hit her. It hit her so hard and so fast, it never once slowed down or stopped. It broke her body and kept right on moving, as fast or faster than it was going before. To be fair, it was dark outside, and she was a dark dog who was moving very quickly, the person in the car might not have seen her before it was too late. Riley didn't make a sound when it happened. Afterward, she didn't move out of the middle of the road.
I ran out into the road and scooped down and picked her up. The people who were walking on the other side of the street saw the whole thing happen. They stopped traffic as I was picking her body up, then came over to me. I was on my knees in the grass, bent over my little girl. Her body was still shaking, but I could tell she was already gone. Whatever was left must have been just muscles spasms. I don't think she suffered long. I didn't cry at first, I just sat starring at her. What I was seeing just didn't make sense. What just happened could not really have happened. The people asked if there was anything they could do...I couldn't think of anything to say other than "she's gone." Then the tears came.
I called Michael. He came running out to the curb while I was still telling him what had happened. I was only four houses away. Four goddam houses. He came and held me, and we both started weeping together. At some point, Michael left to get a blanket from the house, and we wrapped her up. We carried her back to the house, and laid her down the in backyard.
Everyone in the house cried that night. We all held each other closely, and cried loudly at times, sometimes softly to ourselves.
I decided I wanted her buried in the backyard, and I couldn't bear the thought of her being outside alone all night, so we started digging. The ground was so hard, the only spade we had broke, but we kept digging using whatever tools we had. A hoe, snow shovels, pitchfork...whatever. Caitlin and Cameron tried to find a 24 hour store nearby that would sell shovels, but they couldn't. They came home with flowers instead.
We dug for hours, until nearly two in the morning. We had to abandon the first hole because we realized there were power lines buried a couple of feet down. We didn't realize this until we actually got to the power lines. But we started a new hole, where the ground was even harder and it took even longer to get deep enough. It was painful and exhausting...but it felt good. I would cry as I shoveled, using all the emotion as fuel to keep on going. I was taking vengeance on the Earth. I was creating a hole as big as the one in my heart.
Once we got deep enough, I got down into the hole, and Michael carried her over to me. I laid her down, and told her this was where she was going to be sleeping. She was buried with some flowers and, of course, a tennis ball. Tennis balls always made her happy, just like she always made me happy.
We had a great time at the park, like we always do. There were a few dogs there when we first got there, but as it got darker, they all slowly started to disappear. It was cooling off and the afternoon storms were blowing away, leaving the sky full of big, puffy clouds that were painted pink and purple in the sunset. I stopped to take a couple of pictures. I walked around the dog park finding as many balls as I could in the last bits of light. As soon as I found one, I would throw it as far away as I could, and she would go chasing after it. She always was one of the fastest dogs at the park. Chasing tennis balls made her so happy, you could tell that it gave her pure joy. She rarely brought the balls back (for Riley, the bliss was in the hunt), but I never cared. She would chase the ball down and grab it, maybe jog with it in her mouth for a while, then drop it and look at me to let me know she was ready for me to throw another ball. I threw her as many balls as I could that day, until it got too dark to see. Then I walked around the dog park a couple of more times. Riley would follow me around...not too closely, but always within sight. Sometimes she would come sprinting up to me and run right into me. I would pet her hard behind the ears and tell her she was a good girl. When she followed closely I would hold my hand up at my side and say "nose," and she would jump straight up and hit her nose to the palm of my hand.
After we had been at the dog park for 45 minutes or so (should we have stayed longer? or gone earlier while there was still light left?), I decided it was time to go. I never had to chase her down or even tell her to come with me when it was time to leave the dog park. All I had to do was walk to the gate, and she would come running behind and follow me through. She never wanted me to leave without her. I never would have. I told her to sit and I put her leash on, then we walked home. She was panting hard and stayed right by my side all the way back home. She was tired, and happy.
When we got to the front porch, I did what I always did. I told her to sit, and she obeyed right away. She sat on the second step, not the first one like she usually did, but I didn't think it would matter (did it matter?). I took her leash off, patted the top of her head, and turned to open the door. When I looked back she was gone. She had never done that before. Never.
She had ran to the edge of the front yard and stopped. I called her to come back, but at the same time as I said come, I also took a step toward her. When I took a step forward, she ran further down the sidewalk. This scarred me a little bit, but I figured it was kind of late, so there probably wouldn't be too much traffic. I walked closer to her, tried to tell her to come, but she ran a little further down the sidewalk. She was four houses away. Four.
I saw the people on the other side of the street just before she did, but as soon as she saw them, she started running toward them. She always loved people. She would always go right up to a stranger, sit down right next to them, and wait for them to pet her. When I saw the people walking on the other side of the street, at first I was relieved. I knew she would run right up to them and sit down, and then they could grab her collar and I would bring her back home.
I don't know where the car came from. It was going so fast. I didn't see it until Riley was already in the street. I don't think she saw it until it hit her. I can't stop seeing that car hit her. It hit her so hard and so fast, it never once slowed down or stopped. It broke her body and kept right on moving, as fast or faster than it was going before. To be fair, it was dark outside, and she was a dark dog who was moving very quickly, the person in the car might not have seen her before it was too late. Riley didn't make a sound when it happened. Afterward, she didn't move out of the middle of the road.
I ran out into the road and scooped down and picked her up. The people who were walking on the other side of the street saw the whole thing happen. They stopped traffic as I was picking her body up, then came over to me. I was on my knees in the grass, bent over my little girl. Her body was still shaking, but I could tell she was already gone. Whatever was left must have been just muscles spasms. I don't think she suffered long. I didn't cry at first, I just sat starring at her. What I was seeing just didn't make sense. What just happened could not really have happened. The people asked if there was anything they could do...I couldn't think of anything to say other than "she's gone." Then the tears came.
I called Michael. He came running out to the curb while I was still telling him what had happened. I was only four houses away. Four goddam houses. He came and held me, and we both started weeping together. At some point, Michael left to get a blanket from the house, and we wrapped her up. We carried her back to the house, and laid her down the in backyard.
Everyone in the house cried that night. We all held each other closely, and cried loudly at times, sometimes softly to ourselves.
I decided I wanted her buried in the backyard, and I couldn't bear the thought of her being outside alone all night, so we started digging. The ground was so hard, the only spade we had broke, but we kept digging using whatever tools we had. A hoe, snow shovels, pitchfork...whatever. Caitlin and Cameron tried to find a 24 hour store nearby that would sell shovels, but they couldn't. They came home with flowers instead.
We dug for hours, until nearly two in the morning. We had to abandon the first hole because we realized there were power lines buried a couple of feet down. We didn't realize this until we actually got to the power lines. But we started a new hole, where the ground was even harder and it took even longer to get deep enough. It was painful and exhausting...but it felt good. I would cry as I shoveled, using all the emotion as fuel to keep on going. I was taking vengeance on the Earth. I was creating a hole as big as the one in my heart.
Once we got deep enough, I got down into the hole, and Michael carried her over to me. I laid her down, and told her this was where she was going to be sleeping. She was buried with some flowers and, of course, a tennis ball. Tennis balls always made her happy, just like she always made me happy.
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