My girl Callie came to us when she was 10 weeks old. She was active, playful, lived to swim. Like all Goldens, she needed a lot of time with her people. If I was working too long and she was feeling lonely, she would hide something of mine, like a shoe, and then come stand in front of me, grinning, to let me know I had five minutes to find the object or she would chew it to bits. She was a total mama’s girl, stuck with me day and night, had a special nose-wrinkling look when she greeted the handful of people who mattered most to her. I took her swimming almost every morning (Lake Michigan is a 10-minute walk from my house.) My granddaughter Maia was also a constant companion and the three of us used to get under the covers together while I made up stories for Maia.
Callie could trash a stuffed animal in under 60 seconds and Maia went one day to a thrift store and got her a big fluffy toy for 50 cents. After Callie demolished it, we held a funeral in the back garden. As you can see, Callie’s mourning doesn’t look very heartfelt.
Callie had an inoperable mass in her skull bone. Palliative radiation gave her 7 good months after diagnosis. I thought if 2013 would be her last summer I would do my best to make it the best summer of her life and we spent most mornings at the beach. The second picture is Callie in the water during her last summer.
She started to decline over the bitter winter and we had to say goodbye in April this year. My grief for her continues. Here at 3 in the morning, unable to sleep, I miss being able to curl up next to her and feel her warmth.
Sara Paretsky
