How do you say goodbye to your best friend? How do you fill that empty spot left in your heart?

In August of 2000, my daughter, Amy conspired with my then secretary, Lottie Long, and my fellow worker, Wes Autry, to introduce me to a small, one year old part Corgi, named Dusty. Amy was coming to visit for my 50^th birthday and she thought that I might want to take a look at this little girl dog as a companion. I’d lived alone for almost fifteen years but I gave in since I knew that Amy would like to see Dusty while she was there. As fate would have it, I became enamored with her before Amy returned to Knoxville and so she came to be a permanent member of my immediate family of two.

Trying to set some boundaries, the first night I set her up in a bed in what I called the fish room. Without getting into the details, this was a room that had been added by the previous owner off of the kitchen. The next morning when I found her sleeping alone and she looked at me the way dogs can do, that became the last night the she did not share my bed when I was home for the next fifteen and a half years.

I must say she was one of the more accommodating partners I’ve ever shared a bed with. In the early years, she would sleep under the covers usually behind my knees. When it came time for me to roll over, as I did several times in the early morning hours, she would come out of the cover, go to the foot of the bed, step over my feet as I rolled over, go back to the top of the bed and crawl back under the covers. Often, as she crawled back to her place, she would run her naturally cold nose down my spine. While somewhat disturbing, I felt it was a small price to pay for our relationship.

In later years, she moved out from under the covers but other-wise was still accommodating when it came time to “flip”. If I failed to roll over on some schedule that she adhered to, she would come around and get up into my face and stand until I would wake up and roll over. And, if she wanted to get up in the morning while I was still asleep, she would ease up to my face and give me the tiniest of licks on the nose. I would always respond with “What’cha doin’?”

When I was home, if she was not at my side she would be no more than ten feet from me and would remain in my sight. I always had to be careful not to roll over her when I got up from my office chair. And when I sat in the recliner, she would jump up and lay on the arm.

I had scheduled a meeting trip to Key West, FL, just a few months after she came to live with me. However, as I looked at this small brown girl dog that had not only become dear to me but she in turn, had become closely attached to me, I realized that I could not leave her alone and so decided to cancel the trip.

Over the almost sixteen years that she was my constant companion, I did leave her on trips for as long as two weeks at a time. If I was gone two weeks or two days she would meet me at the door barking and when lifted her and cradled her in my arms, she would cry. And then she would give me her special kiss, a little flick of her tongue on the end of my nose. She really was quite stingy with her kisses and that made them all the more precious.

She had not been with me long when one day I told her “You’re the best girl dog around”. Immediately the following song came to my mind which I would sing to her often (to the tune of The Beach Boy’s “Little Deuce Coupe”):

I’ve got the best little girl dog in town,

She’s not really red and she’s not really brown,

She likes to sit with me in the easy chair,

And all over the house I’ve got little blond hair!

She’s my little girl dog,

You don’t know what I got

(Ooo wah, ooo wah)

She’s my little girl dog,

You don’t know what I got.

Just after Labor Day 2010, Sally Mae came to live with us. Sally is mostly Boston Terrier and, at the time, was about 18 months old. Dusty chose to ignore her for the first few months, but she finally accepted her and they would play together regularly. Dusty often seemed quite vicious, but it was always just play.

In the first quarter of 2015, my best friend was diag-nosed with kidney failure. At almost 16, I had known for some time that we only had a few years left together, but I now knew that the clock was ticking and our remaining time would be short. Her vet and I discussed when I would know that the time had come and agreed that, as long as her good days exceeded the bad, she would be happy. And I assured her that I would certainly not end it for my convenience.

On Friday, Feb 4, I returned home that afternoon and soon realized that she was not doing well at all. The next morning I called the vet and took her in. They gave her a fluid treatment to help flush her kidneys and an injection for nausea. As we left, I knew in my heart that, short of a miraculous rebound on Sunday, I would be back Monday for her final visit. That night, as we went to bed, she was quite fidgety and didn’t settle down till about 1am.

Though life presents us with many difficult decisions, sometimes it is kind and it takes them from us like a loving parent. About 6am on Sunday the 5^th, I awoke to hear Dusty asleep just behind my shoulder blades. She had not wandered that far up on the bed at night in some time and I started to roll over and move her back down (where I had put a plastic liner because of her nausea). But then I recalled her restlessness the night before and decided that it would be ok for her to stay.

As I lay there, I recognized that her breathing wasn’t exactly that of sleep. As I gently rolled over, I realized that that she was not asleep but had slipped into a coma. And I knew that she would not wake. I lay there and gently stroked her side and repeated that I loved her and that it was ok to go and that I would be along later and we would be together again. At about 6:30, she gasped once and her head turned towards me, though her eyes remained closed. She gasped a few more times over the next several minutes and, as the sun rose, she gasped her final breath and slipped away.

Amy came over that afternoon and helped me lay her to rest in the tree line beside a small forsythia. There the morning sun will shine on her sweet face and I can see her from the kitchen window. I have shared my life with many dogs and they all have a room in my heart. But none was loved more. And none was my best friend, my Dusty…my Sweet Girl.

“Dogs come into our lives to teach us about love, they depart to teach us about loss. ” - Erica Jong