She would bark for hours and hours if she wanted to. Sometimes at nothing. Sometimes at any and everything that moved in the slightest. She would bark her head off at the delivery drivers. One time the turkeys were crossing the yard to go to where ever and they stopped for about twenty minutes. She would bark at them so loudly that I am sure she violated a noise ordinance. Then run to me in the living room and bark at me, telling me there were turkeys in the yard and then run back to the window and bark more.
Yet, she was perfect in every way.
Talk about bad breath, she had it. I would tell her it often smelled like sardines that were pulled out of the sewer. Yes, that bad but I would still kiss her constantly. When she barked that bad breath would come straight towards you, that moving to another spot was the only answer. Just terrible. Terrible.
Yet, she was perfect in every way.
Food. Lord, she loved food. She would be in the deepest of sleep but if you made the mistake of opening a bag of chips, even as quiet as you could, there she was. We would eat hashbrowns together from McDonalds on some mornings that when we were done, I had to shake my hands as if I was a blackjack dealer to show her I had no more food. She didn’t care and she’d bark and that sardine breath would come out.
Yet, she was perfect in every way.
She hated other dogs. Hated them with a passion. If a dog came in the yard, she looked like Derrick Henry going in from the one yard line to the window to bark. She would be mad. Not sure where the disdain came from but it made me laugh because she also lived with a five pound cat that she was terrified of. Absolutely terrified of.
Yet, she was perfect in every way.
When I went through my dark clouds a few years ago, I would sit outside and she was there right beside me. Wouldn’t move an inch because she knew I needed her there. I’d pull up from running a quick errand or gone for a few days for work, she would bark her head off at me that I would scream from the driveway, “SHUT UP!”
Yet, she was perfect in every way. She was not the prettiest of girls and her body looked like three cannonballs fused together with little legs and I often wondered how she could stand up.
Yet, she was perfect in every way.
Cancer showed up in the fall of 2024 and she was approaching 11 years of age, it was the beginning. She fought, my God, did she fight but on February 19th, at 8:43 A.M., she crossed the rainbow bridge. She brought so much love to everyone she came in contact with.
She was perfect in every way.
I hope that in some corner of God’s beautiful kingdom, that there is this fantastic dog park where they all run free. I hope that she has made friends, finally, and they all play together. Then one says, “Lizzie, tell us about your people.” She replies, “Y’all go get your tennis balls and come sit down. I want to tell you all about them.”
Perfect in every way.
