As a puppy Abby would lay on her back behind the couch with her legs in the air – like a dead bug on a windowsill. It was as bizarre as it was hilarious. Abby LOVED to open presents, hers, yours, and usually opened at least one for each family member at Christmas, or on a birthday. And if you encouraged her / egged her on, she’d just keep going with other presents until she was told to stop.
Abby could smell boo-boos, and felt the need to kiss them. Not just cuts and scrapes, but bruises, too. Fitting, as she got her name from the TV show character “Abby”, on ER.
Normally chill in the early hours, Abby was anxious and got us up on a very important morning, and in time to say goodbye to a loved one in the hospital. We’re forever grateful to her for that. When Abby would have an occasional accident or bark too long at passers-by, she would put herself in her cage. (It was really really hard to stay upset with her when she did that.)
Abby was not a pet but a family member; not because we say that to be cute, but because she saw herself as part of the Grosman pack, and was always trying to figure out what she should do/her responsibility in response to what [we] were doing, whether that was go in her cage because we were leaving, or herd/guard/stay by the luggage when it got put out (so that she didn’t get left behind). She always ate her food better, when it was served while the rest of us were eating a meal.
Losing a dog is never easy, for anyone. But what made this particularly hard is Abby has been with us since the beginning of “us”. Just weeks since our honeymoon, we went to the Humane Society to see a different dog, but Abby caught Beth’s attention, and she made she sure she became ours.
Saying goodbye to Abby today meant acknowledging that we were no longer whole – part of what we started this family with – and stayed with us for EIGHTEEN amazing years – was gone.
But we took comfort in the fact that she is no longer in pain, no longer scared … and no longer struggling.
Rest now, Abby