Author: mom2shelby

From the day I rescued Shelby, I think she made her life mission to make friends. Oh to be more dog! 🙂 She was such a pleaser. She loved everyone she met – without judgement. She wanted to be loved but she also gave such love.

When we moved to Seattle (home for me and new for her) from New Orleans, I moved into a cute little apt building that had about 8 units. It was perfect! Hardwood floors, tall ceilings, claw foot tub. And PET FRIENDLY! I had no idea how hard it would be to find a reasonably priced place that would let us move in. But moved in we did. The first thing I noticed was that Shelby would love to slip and slide on the hard wood floors. I put some rugs down but my poor downstairs neighbor. Shelby was just the jumper, on and off the bed. ALL the time. She would also love to sit in the window and watch the world go by. In the summer, when I had the windows open, I would worry that she wasn’t smart enough to NOT jump out when she saw a squirrel or a cat.

Soon, people in the apt complex came to know me as “Shelby’s mom” as they would hear me yell to and at her. “Shelby stop jumping”. “Shelby, for the love of GOD go potty”, “Shelby no”, “Shelby stop”… I talked with her so much.

The nice man that lived below us was an elderly man who had served in a war (perhaps Korea, Vietnam). He suffered from severe PTSD and never spoke to me. He sat on the stoop outside the apt and while I would apologize for being loud (Shelby going clickety clack with her nails), he never said a word. But he would always pet her. She soothed him. And she wasn’t high strung or bat crazy around Sam. She would sit next to him, while he chain smoked, and calmly accept his petting her back and ears.

One day, one of our other neighbors came up to me in the laundry room and inquired about Shelby. I worried that Shelby was barking during the day while I was work or something but she simply wanted to get to know Shelby better and since she was home during the day, wanted to know if she could take her out. Now as I have said before, Shelby was always a flight risk and I was definitely a nervous mom about letting anyone else watch my dog (my own mother included!). So I tentatively agreed to a trial. I gave her the leash and Shelby and those were the most excruciating and long 15 minutes of my life while she took Shelby for a trial walk. Shelby came back, tail wagging, happy as a clam and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. After putting this poor woman through the ringer, telling her Shelby was bad on a leash, and a flight risk – she came back to report that Shelby was perfectly lovely. I agreed to let her walk Shelby during the week if she felt so inclined. Shelby was around 5 years old then and starting to mellow out a bit.

Shelby and Trinity became fast friends! When I would get home from work, I would ask Shelby what adventures she had. She always wagged her tail. She would run to Trinity’s door but in the beginning, since Trinity had several cats, Shelby wasn’t allowed in their apt. Summer rolled around and in an effort to get to know the neighbors, we hosted a 4th of July BBQ. How happy was Shelby to be outside with all her friends!?!

Summer passed and soon came fall and winter. Shelby continued to have great adventures with her buddy. She was welcomed into the house (with the cats) and proved to be a good guest. I started to travel a bit for work and Trinity would keep an eye on Shelby for me while I was gone. Eventually, I don’t know how it happened but Shelby found herself over-nighting in the cat casa! Shelby and Trinity would go to the video store (where Shelby got cookies), to the coffee shop, the grocery store… Everywhere Shelby went, she made friends.

When I flew to LA to interview for the job that I would take that would relocate us to LA, Trinity kept Shelby overnight. Murphy, the cat that had been skeptical of Shelby at first, soon became her best friend. They were able to co-exist happily and peacefully watching the squirrels and other wildlife outside.

With mixed emotions, I did make the decision to relocate us to Los Angeles. When I moved into my second apt here in Los Angeles (where I live now), it was like history was repeating itself. Small complex (7 units) and people came to know me as “Shelby’s mom”. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. What a wonderful title to have. What a wonderful job to have.

I am desperately trying to re-define who I am. I was a mom for 13 years. It was what I knew how to do and it was what I did best. It truly is the one thing I am the most proud of that I have done in my 40 years on this earth. I wasn’t always the best mom to Shelby … I stayed out late, I didn’t come home sometimes, I cut her walks short when I was tired or in a bad mood but she was always cared for, she was always fed and she was always loved. And I am truly thankful that dogs live in the moment and don’t remember things in the past that we, as humans, might not be so proud of. While I look and try and figure out who I want to be, I know that I want to be more “Shelby”. I want to live more without judgement. I want to live more in the moment. I want to always stop and smell the flowers, appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds me. It is hard to move forward. The easy thing for me now is to go home and shut the windows, shut out the world. But every invitation I accept. Every walk on the beach I take. Every time I stop and truly listen to the waves crash – I feel Shelby’s paw on my shoulder pushing me forward, telling me it’s going to be OK and that she is always with me. Thank you for sending me a penny last weekend Shelby. Thank you for letting me know that I am not alone. I miss you, my baby girl. I think about you all day, every day and I know that you have made a million and one new friends, both canine and human (and probably cats too) over the bridge and you are so loved. Thank you for always being my personal ray of sunshine!

There is something to be said about adopting an adult (or non-puppy) dog from the shelter that wasn’t a surrender – there is no history on them. Oh what I wouldn’t have paid to know what Shelby’s life was like before coming to live with me. Her records didn’t indicate much – not even where they found her. But she was fixed. She was basically house-trained. She had limited manners.

I remember the first night I brought Shelby home. It was a Friday night and I was working in events at the time so I had the day off and had to work that night. Silly me. I figured I would bring the dog home and all would be fine. She would, of course, adapt, instantly to her new surroundings. Because of course, ALL dogs feel right at home in a new space. Oh how wrong was I.

I brought Shelby home (and that was the first she heard of her name since she was nameless when I adopted her). She instantly became a holy terror in the apt. She ran around like a complete bat out of hell. I gave her some water and I think I must have fed her (I was so unprepared – I didn’t even have a leash). I turned on the TV to get ready for work and she stopped dead in her tracks and jumped on the coffee table and then under the coffee table and her ears were back. She was afraid of the TV?!? Psycho mutt.

I left for work and figured, to be safe, I would attempt to ‘trap’ her in the kitchen, just in case. That was when I first realized that she was a jumper and completely NOT OK with being confined to a small space. I put up chairs and blocked her in. Or so I thought. I got home from work about midnight and she was free-roaming. On the couch. Had made herself at home. Fine. That was when I still thought that there would be no dogs on the furniture (how naive was I?).

I took her out to potty (that much I did know that I had to do with a dog) and she took off. Silly me, again, expecting a dog to come back to me that had known me for all of 12 hours and didn’t know her own name! I put some Mardi Gras beads around her neck thinking that would be a make-shift leash and BOOM – broken and she was off, again. I don’t know how (act of God maybe) but I got her back.

The next morning I took her off to Petco to get her supplies (a crate, collar, leash). The parking lot of Petco, she jumped out of of the shopping cart. Thank GOD someone helped me snag her (she was fast). I was losing interest in this quickly. So we got a collar, a crate, and leash. Everything was good but she was a puller. Oh did she pull. I thought for sure she would pull my arm out of the socket.

And the crate. Epic fail. EPIC! She was having none of that. She wouldn’t go in it. Wouldn’t have anything to do with it. She cried. She whined. She sounded like she was being skinned. I put toys in there (she destroyed them). I put a blanket in there (she ate that). It was the perfect size for her but she still messed in there and then sat in poop. She refused to embrace it. For three straight nights – I tried. I put pillows over my ears and I could still hear her cry. I put a towel over it (like you would a bird) and she ate that. She was relentless. So finally, I gave up the fight. And mom and baby slept well. I am not sure when she moved to my bed or when she won ALL the battles with confinement but she did.

For the rest of her life, if you would even utter the word “crate” her ears would go back and she would start to shake. Something, at some point, in her early life had emotionally traumatized her of being confined. When she broke her leg, the only choice was to get a crate to keep her confined while I was at work. I apologized to the neighbors in advance for the crying but it was a necessary evil. After the amputation, they told me to keep her in small room (so I put her in my bedroom) and she tried to tunnel out by eating the door (bye bye deposit).

While I will never know what Shelby’s life was like before me or how long she had lived with a family what I will always know is that she had the best life with me. At some point, about age 10, she stopped running off… she realized, I guess, that the grass wasn’t greener on the other side of the road. That she had it pretty darn good – costumes and all. And she taught me the kind of dog mom to be, the kind I hope to be should I ever enter down that road again, and with any future fur-baby, I will shower them with the same amount of love that Shelby got. And Shelby will always smile down on us and be proud of the fact that she taught me how to live and to love…. not the other way around.

On the left , where I put Shelby when I went out. On the right, what it looked like when I got home.

On one of the Tripawds forum posts, there has been a conversation about grief, how we process it and how everyone is different. Without judgement, we all have a common place to meet and share our stories about our loved ones that have passed and are able to identify other feelings and emotions that may resonate with us.  It was one such post today by one of my “Tripawd” friends that made me stop and think about my own fragile emotional state.

For as long as I can remember, I have had an uncanny way of ‘shutting’ out things that are painful to me. In fact, I shut out the memories. As many know, my father passed when I was 22 years old. I was the ultimate daddy’s girl, an only child, the apple of his eyes. He was the absolute BEST father – always there on the weekends, worked hard during the week but always made time for dinner with his family. We were so close. I was also, in part with my amazing mother but not to the same extent, a caregiver. When he finally passed, my world was shattered. I was lost, without a cause or purpose. I quit my job. Stayed in my room for 6+ months, slept all day. Emotionally and physically checked out. This was LONG before FaceBook or anything of the sort. I don’t know how it happened but I finally picked myself up, slowly, and found my new life.  Cancer took my father and it has taken YEARS for me to even consider supporting cancer research fundraisers because I was SO angry that the medications couldn’t save him. He passed at 55 years old.

About a year after he passed, I moved to New Orleans. I needed to get out of Seattle and find a new life. I didn’t (and still don’t) share many details of my father. I keep that very close to my heart. But in part is that I have unconsciously blocked out all the memories I really have. I would need to stare at photos to try and recover those memories and even, then hard to do. I mainly remember him as sick but that was such a small part of our story. My mom found some old tapes of his talking to me and as I listened, I didn’t recognize the voice. I felt awful. BUT I realized that it is how my mind/brain/heart copes.

In New Orleans, I met, who I thought, would be the man I would marry. I was happy. But when he broke my heart in a million pieces, I vowed NEVER again. “Better to have loved than loss” – so not my motto. He had had a dog. I begged for the dog, for joint custody, for anything. But ultimately, it was too painful to be around the dog and not be a family together.

Enter Shelby Lynne. I knew I wanted my own dog. But in retrospect, I think in part, it was a replacement dog for the dog of my ex. I thought it would be a good idea. I was alone in a city that I had only lived a year and had very few friends. Shelby was a holy terror the first weekend she was in my home. I truly almost returned her but I was too embarrassed and feared they wouldn’t let me ‘trade her in’.  Our bond wasn’t instant. She bolted the first night I had her and I couldn’t get her back. I tried to crate train her – epic fail. Somewhere in her life before me, she had became fearful of enclosed spaces (which made it even more odd that her last few months, her favorite place was my tiny bathroom). People told me to ‘let her cry it out’ – the dog was relentless. She cried – non-stop for over 12 hours. I said, no dogs on the bed. That lasted a day. I said no dogs on the couch (also a week). It soon became clear who ruled the apt!

But still, while I loved her, I didn’t fully feel bonded with her. The ex came back (as they always do) about 6 months later and I let him back into my heart and home. And he brought his dog for a visit. What was fascinating to witness was his dog, who had always adored me and I had bonded with, came up to snuggle me and little Shelby was having none of that. What happened was two dogs – meeting for the first time – not understanding why they BOTH couldn’t be top dog in my world. At that moment, I chose to comfort Shelby. She was my baby and my connection with her was stronger. (Which was great since the ex went MIA 48 hours later).

So it became me and Shelby. That was my world and it worked. I’ve dated other people, had other relationships over the years but I always keep people at arm’s distance. I don’t trust anyone – truly – 100%. In my mind, I can’t risk getting hurt and letting someone get close to me and then disappear and die (like the ex and my dad). I am so fearful of loss that I keep my heart so guarded that it’s virtually impossible to get in there. Except for Shelby. Without being aware, I did open my heart up again. I did love completely and in ways that I didn’t think that I could. And it felt amazing. She was there when my heart was broken again and again. She was there when I lost my job. She was there every anniversary of the passing of my father. Shelby truly taught me that it is OK to love and to lose and you can survive.

Am I still sad? Yes, my heart breaks for Shelby every single day. I long to feel her fur, carry her in my arms like a baby, ask her if she wants a cookie (those ears!!!). I lost my father when I was 22. I got Shelby when I was 26. I struggle with my own personal identity – not being a caregiver for the first time in a really, really, really long time. It’s a whole new life/world for me. And it scares me.

Will I trust again? Will I love again? Only time will tell. But Shelby will always remain the true love of my life. I feel so lucky to have found my ‘heart dog’ so early in life and to have had her show how to really live and how to ‘be more dog’. Right now, I plan and try to live like Shelby … in the moment, in the hour, in the day. Too far into the future scares me. Too much in the past makes me sadder. And I need to share her stories because I fear (as with my father) I will forget those memories as my body/mind/soul try and heal.

BUT I thank you Shelby, for the life lessons, the gifts and the love … I will do my best to make you proud as you watch over me till we meet again. I miss you my little snuggle bunny…

How is it already 4 weeks? How is that even possible? What a surreal month it has been. I think I have been in a constant state of numbness from paralyzing fear of the unknown, to some relief of not being an intense caregiver (and the guilt that goes with that) to utter and complete sadness. The tears have subsided but the pain absolutely has not. Shelby is with me every day, every waking minute.

I had initially wanted to put together a video montage of her photos for June – which will mark one year when she broke her leg (and I need to stop beating myself up for allowing her to miss the car and fall and thus break her leg) but then I decided I wanted to have it done for one month.

I have been in hibernation for the past month. Basically silent on FaceBook, Twitter and other social media outlets. I felt that it was important to mourn, properly, the loss of my best friend. I also felt that it would be insensitive to the love and happiness we had if I jumped back into my life too soon. I know that is a human thing and that most people wouldn’t judge me and even if they did – F them.

But I feel that it is time for me to start to live again. I have been running more, which is good for my heart and my soul. I have been slowly getting my eating healthy again and not just having wine and cookies for dinner. My pants are starting to fit again and I feel healthy. I feel guilty for healing but I have to believe that Shelby would not want me to be sad for the rest of my life.

As I looked through Shelby’s photos for her video, I decided it should be called “Shelby’s amazing life” and what a life she had. She was spoiled beyond reason. She always had plenty of toys, cookies, beds to chose from. She had the beach at her paws. Snow from when we lived in Seattle. Parks and mountains were her playgrounds. She was so loved by everyone who met her. What a lucky dog. Time and time again, people have said to me that if they were to come back, they wanted to come back as Shelby because she truly had the best life. And I loved to remind her of that when she would pout – I would ask her to tell me “how your life sucks”. Silly monkey. My little muffin!

There is the void that will always be there. And there will be ups and downs as I continue down this road. I am definitely not ready for another dog in my life. I am trying to figure out who I am. I am in a new decade of my life and while I feel overwhelmed by the prospect of being alone, I am trying to see this as a gift, an opportunity to further develop. Shelby trained me well. She trained me to live in the moment and as long as I don’t think too far ahead, I am stable.

I know my girl is creating havoc over the bridge. That little devil. She was the feisty one. I know she is making tons of news friends and I know that she is watching over me every single day. I still hear her breathing in the apt at night. I still open the door and look to her beds (which have remained unmoved) and to the bathroom but she’s never there.

So today … as I relive the last 48 hours together in my mind and remember our extraordinary life together, I also celebrate our amazing love story … I love you, Shelby girl. I miss you every day. And I will always remember your smile.

Some weeks it seems longer, some weeks it feels like yesterday that I lost my ‘best girl’.  This roller coaster is one ride that I really wish would end. There are extreme ups and downs and it seems that I have taken a huge step backward, I think that is the reality of my new reality kicking in. That my girl is definitely not coming back. And when that kicks in, I feel paralyzed with emotion and fear. Shelby was so much better at adapting than me. She adapted to each of our cities just fine, her new homes with ease, new routines. Nothing seemed to phase that girl. She was always eager to go and have fun.

One of the things we greatly loved doing together was being outside. Oh how Shelby loved to smell the air, bask in the sunshine (more so the shade in her later years), sniff the grass. Our walks would take for forever because she had to scent mark everything. One friend of mine who walked her once with her rottie (who was always the alpha by peeing where Shelby would pee) commented to me that even her girl, Lola, stopped marking because she couldn’t keep up with Shelby. Shelby peed the way I would expect boy dogs to do. And the pooping – Shelby was famous for ‘faux’ pooping. She would go into position and act like she was pooping only to discover there was nothing there. But she would kick up her back legs like a bull and act all proud. I would have to ‘fake’ bend over to look like I was picking something up as to not have people think I was leaving her poop there but in reality – there was nothing to pick up. Silly girl.

A couple years ago, I discovered a dog friendly beach by our house. Dogs aren’t allowed on the beach in Los Angeles. Shelby and I used to go to the Oregon Coast when we lived up north and we missed our beach time. Shelby loved to have her feet in the sand. Not so much the water but that was fine. I didn’t want her out in the choppy waters. One weekend, I decided to go exploring this famous “dog beach” called Rosie’s beach in Long Beach, CA. It is a couple mile stretch of dog-friendly beach started and dedicated to Rosie who loved the beach. Rosie had long since passed but her legacy lives on with this beach. Dogs are friendly (for the most part) and so are the people. I packed up some stuff and out we went. It was a wonderful day.

Shelby took to the sand like any dog would – she ran and played and avoided the water. She didn’t want to get her paws wet. We spent about an hour down there. She buried her paws in the sand trying to cool off.  She made friends – both canine and human.

Shelby was also always a hungry girl – it would seem she would never tire of begging (sharking) for food. No matter what. I always told people not to feed her for many reasons but the main reason, she would never leave you alone. But that never stopped Shelby. She saw a nice little family with some little kids and a huge picnic (who brings a picnic to a dog beach? – seriously?!?). Anyways, Shelby walked around and basically assessed the situation and I could see the wheels turning in her mind. I kept pulling her away but at one point, she made a break for it. RIGHT to the blankets, nose first into a bag of chips. As the family started to yell and panic, and I tried to contain my laughter at Shelby’s boldness, I grabbed my girl and even though I took her hundreds of yards away from that blanket and family, Shelby would slink that way. I loved how she would think she was so sly – like I wouldn’t notice what she was up too!

And like any good mom, after we left the beach we stopped for treats. She picked out a beautiful blue cookie – one that was probably loaded with sugar and junk but it made her happy and therefore, made mommy happy.  As we drove the hour so back to LA on the dreaded 405, and I listened to her snore in the back seat, I couldn’t help but think what a perfect day it was. The album which I snagged these photos from are on my Facebook page  – entitled “Shelby’s “rough” Life”! – what a life it was.

My sweet girl – we had so much fun! You were my partner in crime. You were my best friend. You comforted me on days that I didn’t think I had the strength to be comforted. You made me smile every day. You gave me purpose. I miss you, my love. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute. And when I run by the beach, I look forward to the day that a walk/run on the beach brings me joy again. That is why I chose the beach for your final resting place. Everything I ever did in my life was for you. And while many say “Shelby was one lucky dog” – it was I who was the lucky one. I was the one who was blessed to be owned by you. Thank you, Shelby girl, for always keeping me on my toes. I miss you. I love you for forever. And, like I have always said, I will never, ever leave you.

In an effort to keep the spirit and tails of Shelby’s amazing life alive … a little “throwback Thursday” edition for her blog.

For anyone who knew little Miss Shelby, they knew she had a flare for style and more costumes and wardrobe changes than most dogs could ever hope for (well maybe not the itty bitty dogs but Shelby was hardly a purse dog). Shelby also loved to go – anywhere I was or other people were. Shelby brought a certain amount of positive energy to her surroundings (and usually comic relief). A little background on me – when I moved to LA a little over 7 years ago in an effort to meet people, I joined a running group that trained for marathons.

Shelby never ran more than 3 miles with me since I wasn’t a runner when I got her and her vets discouraged distance running since when I started running, Shelby was considered middle-aged and it would be hard on her joints. Shelby was always a sprinter when she would run. She was lightening fast. When I first got her, the first weekend I had her I almost lost her due to her speed. She didn’t know her name yet (she had arrived at the shelter nameless so I gave her the name) and calling for a dog that doesn’t know her name AND thinks it’s a game of ‘chase’ quickly almost LOST me my new dog. Thankfully, she did learn her name quickly but still was a high-flight risk up until she was about 7 or 8. Truly. Shelby was never one of those dogs until the last couple of years that would just go outside w/out a leash and stay within her designated area  (if she was not fenced in). She was faster than me – always. When I was finally able to trust her off her leash, it was only under my watch. And if she tempted fate by going to far OR not coming when I called, I learned that if I got down on the ground and acted hurt or scared, she would run to check on me and BOOM – leash city!

When Shelby and I lived in Seattle, we would go for a three mile loop around a local lake. Either Shelby didn’t understand the concept of running in your own personal lane OR she thought it was a game but she would run along side me, jump up and grab hold of my arm and try and hold on or nip at me. It got to the point where I felt like I was running with a canine barracuda attached to me and shaking her off or telling her “no” only seemed to make her MORE inclined to do it. Definitely comic relief for anyone else out along the route. Or perhaps she was trying to give me an upper body workout as well! My silly girl.

Back to the running club, after one year, I joined their board of trustees and Shelby assumed the role of club mascot. Shelby would show up at board meetings, support stations along the race course, picnics in the park… wherever there was place for her to be, she would go. And she was so loved. She wore the various shirts that I had to show her “LALEGGER” pride!

She was ALWAYS such a great sport with any costumes, medals, holiday attire that I would put on her. She was always my biggest supporter, my biggest fan and the reason that I would always lace up my shoes. So each day, now, that I lace up my shoes, I try and find comfort in running. I try and remember why I run. I run for Shelby. I run for those that cannot run anymore. I feel Shelby guiding me, pushing me, encouraging me to go a little bit faster, a little bit longer, a little bit more …

I missed re-qualifying for Boston last year when Shelby first got sick. At first I was so sad since I wanted so much to get back to Boston to take back that marathon that was marred by the events of the 2013 race. But looking back on it now, I am glad I didn’t re-qualify. I am glad that I didn’t have to make the choice to run the most prestigious race (after working so hard to re-qualify) vs. staying in Los Angeles with the “love of my life”. I would have stayed in LA but I am glad that I didn’t have to make that choice.

Right now, it’s hard to run more than 5 – 8 miles … my body tires. My legs fatigue. My heart is not in it. But I will get back to my passion. I will get it back. And I will always run with the spirit of Shelby within me.  I miss you baby girl… I hope you are running around, getting chased as you loved to be and showing those big dogs how it’s done!

Two weeks since I gave Shelby the greatest gift of all – peace and tranquility for all of eternity. While I know Shelby is running free, on all four legs, jumping up and down on the other dogs and having an amazing time playing and eating ALL that she wants (she was always such a hungry, hungry hippo, that girl) without gaining a pound, it doesn’t make it easier to be left behind.

In the past two weeks, I have thought a lot about the final time Shelby and I spent together.  Like I have said,  always told Shelby I would never, ever leave her and yet I also always feared (out loud to her vets and internally in my heart) how would I really know. How would I be absolutely certain it was time? When it came to Shelby – I took my role as her mom so seriously – I was her strongest advocate and that was a lot of power. To have a voice for someone who couldn’t speak up. I was quick but thoughtful to rush her off to the ER vet for anything that seemed off. I felt comforted by the fact that the ER vet was 20 minutes from my house and that I had almost ALL her doctors on 24/7 speed dial. I didn’t spare any expense when it came to Shelby so in my heart, I knew that as long as I had “credit” we could and would keep fighting. So when I think back to our last 72 hours together, I believe that Shelby began her transition in a way that there would be NO second-guessing on my part since she knew I would keep ‘charging’ forward (literally and figuratively).

I used to tell people that my dog was SO friendly she would literally sell me out to the highest bidder. She loved EVERYONE upon meeting them – there was rarely a person she didn’t like (except for one old boyfriend and I took that as a sign and ended that quickly). Shelby also loved her mama deeply. She was loyal to the very end and would protect me in ways I didn’t think possible … until looking back on our last days together. I truly believe she was trying to warn me that day before to get her to the ER (where we went – 3 times before they kept her for observation) so she would have the violent grand mal seizure there and save me from seeing it. I believe she knew that she was tired and she was done fighting and that she had prepared me to move forward without her.

Unlike some others I have read about, Shelby wasn’t “Shelby” the last couple of days – she didn’t wag her tail , she didn’t look into my eyes, she did ‘nose’ my hand for more pets… she was comfortable and never in pain but she was telling me she was ready to go. There was no doubt in my mind; my girl couldn’t stand on her own, lift her own head, eat anything other than baby food (she never did stop eating). But the girl I knew was already gone. Shelby was just a shell and her spirit was guiding me to make the right decision by her.

While it has been a horrific couple of weeks, riddled with sadness, fear, silence … I have felt no regret. I did everything within my financial and God-given power to fight for her. Shelby knew I would fight till the bitter end for her and so she made it crystal clear to me that she wanted to earn her wings and to serve me from above. I go through waves of when I feel at peace for what I did for her  and then tremendous, paralyzing sadness… As much as I miss my girl every waking minute of every day, I do feel her strength and spirit comforting me. I feel her holding me up, supporting me and pushing me forward. I love having her come to me in my dreams.

What I wouldn’t give to hold her one last time,  snuggle those ears, kiss that face, hold those paws (she hated people touching her feet but she would let me hold her paws when we would watch TV or whatever). Shelby taught me more about strength than I will ever know. I read a quote somewhere – “you never know how strong you are until that is the only choice you have” – from the day her leg broke, I knew that I had to be strong for her. As I struggle with how to move forward without a major piece of my identity (I can’t even figure out how to sign my name on the Tripawds forums right now since I can’t bear to write Angel Shelby or Spirit Shelby since it’s all too true and painful), I will remember that no matter what, I will always be “Shelby’s Mom” (long before people knew my name, they would refer to me as that) so I will end this with how I feel.

Alison with her Shelby, fur-ever in her heart …