http://www.furaffinity.net/view/622087

Abby, my thirteen year old Golden Retriever, passed away today.

She had a number of malignant tumours and suffered from a bad hip. We put her down today in the comfort of her own bed, as she could no longer stand on her own after rapidly deteriorating following a major surgery two weeks ago hoping to remove most of the cancer. However, it had spread throughout her body, so there wasn't much we could do.

She was my first dog to have since a puppy - I got her when I was ten... which is weird to think about, because things were so very different back then... I remember home videos of my sister and I following her around the house as she explored her new home, stopping to futilely try to squeeze under the glass door behind which our parents were having guests over. I remember the video promptly cut out when puppy-Abby gave up and stooped to pee (inside the house :b), the last image centred on a guilty-looking puppy caught in the act.

I remember the first time Abby had a bath, she stuck her head underwater and blew bubbles. However, I also remember she was leery of the pool we had in the back yard. I tried to invite her to swim with me in the summer, but she never really cared for it. She much preferred to lounge on the warm cement of our patio, or lay on the dark, sun-absorbing doormat. She liked lying in the sunlight, where it was warm.

http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i.....y-Backyard.jpg

She became an energetic, lively young dog, who - much to my parents' dismay - loved to tear around the backyard chasing invisible prey (often her tail), and dig in what used to be our vegetable garden, until the grass was nearly completely torn up by her energetic play. "Most people have a rototiller. We have a dog," my dad said in one home video. She had a vibrant tawny orange coat (although she'd later acquire a characteristic white mask), she was lean and trim, and not shaggy like most Golden Retrievers are. If given the chance, she'd walk herself if we let go of the leash - she'd pick it up and trot along and circle us proudly, as if amused with herself. She also ate most of the blue pool cover we had - I guess dogs can't resist giant plastic bubble wrap, either.

I remember she was two when she was introduced to Shelby, a young doberman-shepherd cross that belonged to my sister's boyfriend at the time. They played fiercely in the backyard every time she came to visit, wrestling and chasing each other until they both fell asleep in a pile. Abby didn't really like other dogs much, but she and Shelby were best friends for the longest time.

I never taught Abby many tricks other than the typical, but I did teach her to "sit pretty," posing up on her hind legs, with her forepaws folded cutely up beneath her chin. I loved to play tug-o-war with her, with a big knotted play rope we had. She was mostly stronger than I was, but she let me win most of the time. We also loved to play Hide-and-Go-Seek - I'd sit her in the family room, tell her to stay, and then run off and hide somewhere in the house. Then I'd call to her, and she'd enthusiastically play along and find me. It really got her excited - her favourite places to look for me were behind the bathroom door, in the bathtub, and behind the couches in the living room where she wasn't really supposed to be. Sometimes she'd be so excited to look everywhere she'd miss me entirely, and I'd have to call her back to me. It was more fun than any seeking game I had played with people.

Besides loving the sun, she also absolutely adored the snow. She'd roll in it, making doggy angels, and play and dig and catch snowballs. Snow made her so happy. When she wasn't playing in it, she'd sit inside and longingly watch it fall through the back glass door

http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i...../Abby-Snow.jpg

Abby liked to howl at sirens. It was the only thing that ever made her howl. Looking back, I wish I had howled with her, but I would have been too embarrassed to at the time.

Other than that, she was terrified of loud noises. The sounds of quarreling and anger upset her more than anything else, so much that she'd fret and leave the room to go hide in her favourite comfort spot, behind the bathroom door (we had to rig elastics and strings to the door so she wouldn't accidentally lock herself in when we weren't home). Vacuums freaked her out, too, but then most dogs are scared of the vacuum. She also was scared of thunder - whenever there was a thunderstorm, she'd come running into the room and curl up against our legs, and demand to be held.

She was a very affectionate dog. She loved massages, and would often seem to drift asleep in my hands if I rubbed her ears the right way. If I stopped, she'd give me puppy eyes and dab me with her paw until I petted her again. She just wanted to be touched. I am the only person she ever gave kisses to, though. I'd snuggle my face up to her, and she'd lick me, just a litle. Always a quick, almost embarrassed, doggy kiss. Maybe I taste good?

I got my last kiss from her just a few days ago. I had carried her up the stairs, because she couldn't do it anymore.

She was so lovingly protective and loyal, and made a surprisingly good guard dog for her breed and kind personality. Once, a maintenance guy showed up unannounced in our backyard after we told him work was unnecessary. We didn't know he went through the back gate and into the backyard, until we heard Abby barking. Upon checking, we found the guy backed up into a corner, with Abby poised watchfully in front of him.

Abby was the only one there for me when I broke my foot at home. I remember something snapped as I made my way through the kitchen in the middle of night, and I managed to hop to the couches in the family room. Not knowing my foot had been broken, I expected the pain to go away as if I had merely stubbed something, but it got worse. Abby came to me, ears perked with concern, and looked at me knowing something was wrong. She nosed me, and wagged encouragingly. I remember the feathering of her tail brushed my broken foot by accident, and it somehow managed to hurt and I began to cry. She gave me kisses then, too, and licked the tears away.

I'm sorry I couldn't make your hurt go away, Abby... I really, really am.

http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i...../Abby-Bed2.jpg

I love you, Abby. You'll be sorely missed.