This morning, at about 6:30, our dear friend left her body.
She was eleven and a half.
She had health problems for quite a while. For a long time she suffered from seizures. A few years ago we took her to a nutritionist/chiropractor who prescribed a treatment of supplements and diet that all but ended her seizures. In the past year Holly had developed some tumors on her chest and belly. Her health roller-coastered, but she always fought back. In the end she developed an infection that her tired immune system couldn't best.
She was a pain in the ass from the moment we first got her home. She never really took to "potty training", ate through pockets to get to forgotten pieces of candy, and generally made life more "interesting" in the old Chinese curse sense. She loved tearing through doors, eating up leather boots, and stealing food off your plate when you weren't looking. She even bit me. A couple of times.
It was worth it.
There's no love sweeter than that of a dog. They forgive everything, demand nothing, keep you warm when it's cold, and give you comfort when you're sick. The least we can do is reciprocate. I'm happy that in the last days of her life, Pamela and I did.
Her full name was "My Very Own Precious Holly Pongo Moore." We found her on a cold winter's night in the back of a pick-up truck outside of a Wal-Mart in Arkansas. We took her home, and she took our hearts.
She was and is loved.
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