When I was 22 and in my last year of college and applying to veterinary school I got a dog. It was a lark, I was on vacation and she was the town stray. I named her Serendipity. She was a bad dog. She locked me out of my apartment the morning of my big bio chemistry final. She ate every computer cord, all my bras, my nice shoes, my roommate’s glasses, a bottle of ibuprofen, and so many pies. She peed on my bed so many times that I spent a good chunk of student loan money on mattresses.
She hung out quietly while I studied. She took long meandering walks with me and listened while I talked about science and boys and plans for the future. She kept me safe when I lived in the city and she fought off the loneliness that school can bring.
She was there when Adam asked me to be his wife and she walked proudly down our wedding isle with my niece and nephew. She was with us in grief when were in grief. She was with us in joy when our daughter was born.
She was a game chick. Wherever life went we would go. The two of us were unstoppable. I felt like she was my wild side, the part of me unconstrained by society. She had no need for professionalism and was too independent to care if she was a feminist.
I loved her and respected her as her own being. And she choose to stay with me for over 15 years.
I agonized over the decision of when is the right time. But the old saying proved true when one morning I looked into her eyes and she met my gaze with pain. Her joy was gone. It was my duty and my sacred honor to help her out of pain.
I gave her all the chips ahoy and all the ice cream and a couple valium and brought her into Madison. She laid on me while Dr Rollo gave her the final injection. She may or may not have given on last un-ladylike snarl. She was my free spirited dog who held to no convention other than our love for each other and for life.
My life continues now. It is easier with out a geriatric live in friend to care for. It is a poorer life with out my friend. I will always carry my SaraSodaPants in my heart. It is hard to really grieve for her. She is part of me. She is with me in a hundred ways every day.
Thank you Sara. Thank you for years of love and crazy chases over fields and skunk sprays at 4am. I would need to voice of a poet to do your memory justice. Thank you my good good friend. I love you.