Amie.
My little puppy
Amie was very special. A very kind and playful dog. She loved everyone. The
same moment that she put her oversized paws on the pavement of our street, she
ran to greet anyone who was standing there and if they’d let her, she’d lick
their feet or hands and climb in for a hug. She loved children and playing with
them. Even when they fell over her and screamed and ran like a chaotic whole
lot. She would play in the sand and run around forever, she lived her life
almost as if she knew that it would be short. When she ran to get a ball we had
thrown for her, she’d literally throw herself onto the ball and floor, she
jumped onto sand hills, swam in the stormy see and climbed over little obstacles
we had build for her, sometimes she would get bruises and cuts but did not
care. She ran, jumped into the mud leaving her shiny coat stripy, even knowing
she would have a cold shower afterwards and making us having a bath with her,
she still knew she would get a towel drying lap hug afterwards and lived every
second she had, she enjoyed every day up to the last minute and she lived the
life like a pure happy spirit. With her whole energy of bundled up love and joy.
Every
morning, she was there. Waiting patiently and jumped and her little tail went
almost like a helicopter propeller. Throwing her love onto us the second we
woke up until the minute we went to sleep. Even followed me to the bathroom
door when I took a shower waiting patiently at the door with her deep, loving,
true, patient brown eyes.
When she
got sick, she seemed to feel guilty when we had to clean after her vomit and diarrhea. She observed us cleaning,
looking at me with sad eyes, letting her head hang down and she tried to hide. But
I didn t let her believe that she had to take a distance from us. I talked to her and she returned, still sad, but almost immediately wanting to climb onto my lap. I had her with me until the last moment. Even if I had to
have up to 5 showers a day. But she realized after a few days, that nothing
would separate her from me. So she stopped hiding and waited patiently for me
while I cleaned what needed to be cleaned and then looked at me, waiting for me
to invite her to sit beside me or on my lap.
In her last
days, she stayed within 1m distance of me. No matter what I did, if I cooked or
cleaned, she was there. As I was with her. 24/7. And most of the time, when
invited or called, immediately climbed on my lap, whether I was sitting on the
sofa or on the hammock. A real hammock dog. That’s how she lived her life. Not
caring about anything but life, love, action and living those three.
She inspired
me to live the very moment until her last minute. I had barely slept 4h
tonight, when I felt I had to get up and look after her to give her some water
and try to get her eat some liquid food. She was there. Waiting. Looking at me
with her faithful eyes. Trying to lift her tail to greet me, using all the
force she had left. I felt sick inside, but tried to cheer her up until the
last minute. We went to the living room and sat down for some cuddles. I gave
her water with a syringe which she had even more difficulty to gulp than the
days before. She walked around me with weak feet and pressed her body against
my back. Then she stood on her weak feet, using all her tiny strength and force
to lift her head up and she looked at me. One intense look full of love. Then she
climbed onto my lap and laid her head on my knee to rest. While I was softly patting
her back, a few seconds later she collapsed. Her body went limp. Blood streamed
out. And she died. She was a fighter from the start. And she wanted to make me
happy and show her deep love until her last breath.
I love her
so much. She will be with me, whereever I go. Forever.
Those are the last pictures I took of her. On 14 March, one day before she fell ill.
