Goodbye to Cass

Cassady (aka Cass, Cassiegirl, BooMutt, Boo Bear, Bear Dog) –

Yesterday we said goodbye, and while I was there with you when you left this life, I can’t believe you are really, truly gone. You were my loyal companion, hard-charging friend, protector-dog and confidant for 13 years. You and your blanky were with me through grad school, my first real job and the many that followed, boyfriends and breakups, marriage, moves and parenthood. You graciously allowed Chris into our lives, at first tolerated and then grew to like Paco, and dealt with Lily as stoically as you could. Through it all, your devotion to me never wavered and for that I will always be thankful.

Our road wasn’t always an easy one – rugs, flip flops and a dashboard were eaten, a bed peed on, countless meals up-chucked. But really, would we have been so bonded if we were two perfect souls? Instead I think we found each other because we were both exactly what the other needed. Both wounded in our own ways, we were brought together to help the other one out and share life’s simpler joys. Seeing you chasing seagulls on Ocean beach always made me smile, but not as much as when you realized you were far away and came bolting back to me with your huge dog grin. I never had to call you – instinctively you knew when that band connecting us was stretched too far. I’d like to think that while it is especially taut now, it still hasn’t broken.

At the end of any story, I always find myself reflecting on the beginning. When I found you at the San Mateo shelter you were the only female who didn’t bark at me. Instead, you cowered in you kennel, your roommate standing on you. The minute you left the cage and came to life I knew you were meant to be mine. In the coming years we took road trips to LA and Bakersfield, walked all over the Richmond and Sunset, hiked around Land’s End and Fort Funston and later Ravenna Park, Magnuson and Green Lake. You acted as co-pilot of the Miata, had play dates and sleep overs with Andy and Desi, humped poor Paco at the most inopportune times and always when company came over, and through it all you were always, always, always panting. Jenn called it your soundtrack; I prefer to think of it as your perpetual smile. I didn’t even mind the breath.

Yesterday all I could think about were all the things I did wrong or could have done better, wishing I had petted and walked you more, that I hadn’t pestered you with the Furminator brush, that I had realized the extent of your illness sooner. Today and moving forward I am going to focus on the rest – the many lessons you taught me and how you enriched my life. I am a better, more patient parent, compassionate person and loyal friend because of you, and for these things I am deeply grateful.

I believe that there is a special place in heaven for dogs, and I can think of no more deserving resident than you. Your time on this earth was too short, but in my heart you will live on forever and someday we’ll once again walk on a beach.

Your owner, companion and human mama,

Julie