Wednesday, December 30, 2015


Goodbye Travis,

People are telling me to remember all the good things about you, and all the joy you brought to our lives. I’ll admit, that is hard to do.

The anger and sadness are overwhelming. I am either empty and void of all emotions, or completely consumed by them.

Right this moment I am feeling angry. Angry because a perfect, joyful soul – who did no wrong to anyone or anything – has been taken from this earth.

I want to believe in heaven, or as they tale goes Rainbow Bridge, but alas I do not believe. Perhaps if I did then I could rest easier in knowing that you are in a happy place. Instead I am just angry that you are gone.


Gone are the endless hours of grooming your beautiful coat – a chore that I enjoyed sharing with you very much.

Gone are the strolls in places familiar and new – exploring forests and beaches.

Gone are the moments that I can look in to your eyes and see nothing but joy and happiness – this possibly I will miss the most.

People were sucked in by your outer beauty, but they stayed because of your inner beauty.

I am not sure I have any regrets – I will take this a good sign. We did great things together – exciting things; all this despite your love for living life in the slow lane.

You were wise; an “old soul” as many would say. You were an easy going guy; never in much of a rush to do anything – I believe now this was because you were enjoying the journey of the everyday. Not wanting to let a single moment pass you by without relishing it. Perhaps you knew you would leave this earth too early. Is this your lesson for me?
My heart is broken. I miss you. I want you back more than anything.

It all happened too fast. I am not ready for a life without you.

Tuesday, December 22, 2015


Hello Travis,

I’m nervous – or maybe excited. I’ve been waiting three long years to be able to bring a dog home. A part of me never thought a sheltie would enter my life again – but life is funny that way sometimes.

When I saw your picture on the website, I knew you were mine. It was ridiculous to say or think otherwise.


We sat on the concrete floor of the kennel and held our breath while you were released. Your body wiggled and jumped with joy – you danced in front of us. When you finally stood still, I was overwhelmed by your awesomeness. You were young, but your eyes were old and wise.

There was another there for us to see, but he was not you. You stood still just for a moment; being sure to let us see you - being sure to leave your mark.

We left that night without you; we were asked to be sure, and to “sleep on it”. You had been through two homes already – through no fault of your own.

I went to sleep that night not questioning, but knowing. You were mine.


A few weeks later, you came home with us. A previously planned trip kept you from coming sooner. We drove to Vegas and back, all the while visiting some of the most breath taking sites in the US.
Every day, every moment I thought of you. Here I was on this epic, once in a life time trip, and all I could think of was getting home to you.

I remember one day early in the trip, I damaged my engagement ring while setting up our camp site. I cried, because, well, road trips are exhausting and my ring was broken. In that moment I though of you. I have no idea why, but I did.

I promise, that everyday I will care for you, love you, and be with you. Where I go, you will go.

I will be yours as much as you will be mine.





Friday, December 18, 2015


I haven’t been doing any agility training. I just bring myself to, or perhaps I am just too sad to be involved with it.

All I can think about is Travis, and him being sick. It weighs on my heart – heavy.

We met with a hospice vet yesterday and she gave us this “Quality of Life” questionnaire to fill out. If the dog scores over 35, then their quality of life is deemed “good enough not to consider euthanasia at this time”. This thing is stupid. My dog can’t breath and I feel horrible keeping him – even though he scores well over 35.

What a horrible way to die – I feel guilty. I know he is being strong, because that is the kind of dog Travis is. He has to be in more pain and discomfort than he is telling us - I can feel it.

I read that no one has ever said they put their sick dog down “too soon”, but plenty of people have said they waited “too long”.

I can’t help but feel as though a week too early is better than a week too late. But how do you end a dogs life as he smiles while staring in to your eyes?