Our dog died on Saturday after 16 years of life (that’s 112 doggy years). She was sweet, smart, affectionate and full of character– she really seemed like a person most of the time. She could always tell when we were talking about her, and she always knew when she was about to go for a walk… it was kind of eerie actually. She had a happy howl/bark when she would get excited about going outside or going for a drive. She was also very stubborn but even more loyal, and it was obvious that she loved Matthew more than anything. I think she lived a long life just to be pet and praised by him.
Matthew got Pebbles shortly after his father died in 1992. Having to care for her (she did not start off as a very obedient dog) helped him to be able to focus on something else and get through some very difficult times. When he first got her, if she ran away, he had to make a trail of bread in order to get her to come back. She could get out of any collar, and break any chain. He persevered and continued to train her into an extremely obedient and loyal happy dog.
As long as I’ve been married to Matthew, Pebbles (otherwise known as Punky-Nub, Pebbley-Poo, or Pebble-Pot-Pie) was there too. For as long as I’ve known them both, they went for a long walk together every night. It feels strange to not need to refill her dog bowls. It’s strange to not hear her low snoring all night long, and to never hear the “click-clack” of her toenails on the hard floors.
Anyone who knew her well, knew that she was really one of a kind. We will always miss her.