Dear Baja,
As tears run down my face and stain this paper I write to you on, I smile knowing you are chasing a deer through bushes, surfing an endless countertop filled with bread, and having your ears pet as you rest your head on lap after lap. A few months have past since I watched you laying on that mat, with an IV, holding your paw as you moved beyond this world. Since then, you have filled my dreams, often we are swimming in the lake or you are pulling me on my skateboard, but all dreams end the same way, your belly to the sky between my legs, your tongue halfway out, and your curls overwhelming my hands as I rub your belly.
I wanted to thank you for the lifetime of wet nose wedges, chasing balls and sticks or whatever I threw for you, and, most of all, thank you for being my desert lover. Outside of our last three months together on the windy cliffs of Big Sur and cuddling on the beach, we kept in touch through the winds. Often I would dream of “wrestling” with you at Mom and Dad’s house, or at the river. When I went off to college, a large part of me pain for us to lay on the floor to watch a movie together, or simply go for a walk—I probably wouldn’t have gotten in as much trouble with your wisdom by my side. For six(ish) years we were apart, but time was irrelevant for us. Anytime we would reunite, the cuddles, runs, and hikes picked up right where they had left off and became all the more sweet.
At eight weeks, as a wavy ball of fur, you came home and slept in my bed. Rubbing our noses together that night, you trampled my face as you tried to find a comfortable spot on my pillow. For years to come, that would lay the foundation for our love affair. Every night we had, I would watch for your ears to perk up during pillow talks, your tail would thump, and you would army crawl your way to my side. Once beside me, I would attack you with my hands rubbing you from nose to tail, sometimes getting you so excited you would have the zoomies on the bed.
Gosh, you were such a strong swimmer! Do you recall the time, of which you hated me for a few days afterwards, that we swam across the lake? You wouldn’t leave my side and escaped the backyard, chasing me down the road as I headed off to the lake. In the review mirror, I watched you gallop down the middle of the road after me. I was supposed to meet Mom and Dad for dinner, across the lake, and thought it would be nice to swim there. After you caught me on the road, I couldn’t leave you behind. Panting in the seat next to me, your long tongue hanging out the side of your mouth and a smile on your face we headed toward the water. As I slipped into my speedo and started off, you followed. Whimpering the whole way, you made it with only a few rests. If I remember correctly, the scare on my right forearm was from your toenail that day. You slept so well that night and I’m pretty sure I was in a lot of trouble from Mom and Dad. But, I knew you could do it!
My life with you was full. You watched out for me when we slept under the stars as we shivered together through many nights. You supporting me as I cried in your fur through rough days. Our backyard adventures spiked my curiosity for what else this world offered. You taught me how to be patient and gave me responsibility. Life was no longer just about me, but it was about the two of us. You built my confidence outside of the pool deck. Heck, you even attracted a few people which lead to phone numbers. In your later years, sharing a bed was uncommon—as Mom and Dad spoiled you by giving you Brandan’s bed—but we still had our pillow talks. Your tail would thump as I came into “your room” to cuddle and I would hear about the lizards you chased up a tree or under the deck that day.
I love you pretty girl!
Your Boy
P.S. I’m sorry for the day we went fishing and I caught your tail instead of a fish! Thank you to the random fireman on the beach who taught me how to cut a barb off a hook.
