A few words about losing my best friend.

It was a January morning like any other when my friend Janet and I went for our morning “power walk.” We typically walked at least 2-1/2 miles, starting at our campsites/booths at Tyson Wells in Quartzsite, AZ, walking east on Kuehn Street, and cutting into the open desert on one of the many dirt tracks. As usual, Penny the Tiny Dog was with us. She was leashed for the first part, then let loose to run and explore when we got into the desert for the bulk of the walk. Later, before we got back onto the road, I’d leash her up again.

That morning, things didn’t go the same as they usually did. We were just coming out of the desert to our leash-up place when a man started yelling. The next thing I knew, a large dog was chasing Penny. Then she was crying and Janet was yelling and we were all running toward the place where the big dog had Penny in his mouth. The dog’s owner got control of them, but Penny was writhing on the ground, still crying, obviously in pain. She actually bit both Janet and I as we tried to calm her. I scooped her up, yelled at the man with the dog, and headed off to find a vet.

I don’t want to go into details here. Honestly, I’m tired of thinking about it, tired of reliving those moments when I raced to a vet in Blythe, lifted her out of the car, and saw how much blood was on the blanket there and my tee-shirt. The vet whisked her away for x-rays and soon reported that nothing was broken but she wanted to keep Penny overnight for observation. “She’s in good hands,” I was told.

Janet and I walked without her the next morning. We walked the same route; the man with the big dog was nowhere to be found. We spoke to some folks near our exit to the desert and asked them to tell that man, if they saw him, that his dog had put mine into the hospital.

Oddly, I didn’t have my phone with me on that walk. But when I picked it up back at my camper, I saw that I had three calls from the vet. A message told me to call back. I was with Janet when I got the news: Penny had died during the night.

Now some people have dogs who are pets. And some people have dogs who are like their kids. And then some people have dogs who are their constant companions, best friends, life savers. I’m in that last group. Penny was all of those things to me.

And yes, as I type this two full months after losing her, I’m crying.

So Penny is gone. Forever.

Penny was an amazing companion. In the seven and a half years we were together, we had learned each other’s habits and needs and worked together as a team. She went with me nearly everywhere whether we traveled by car, motorcycle, helicopter, bicycle, or airliner. She wasn’t needy like some dogs, but knew how to curl up on my lap for affection when we watched TV. She helped me through some of the toughest times of my life just by being there. I can’t say that about anyone else.

I needed to blog this. I needed people who knew about her and our relationship to know that she was gone. I needed to head off any questions about why I don’t talk about her anymore. Now you know. Now everyone knows.

The empty spot she left in my life will be impossible to fill, but I’m trying. Last month, I adopted a pair of puppies. I’ll be blogging about them soon.

But one thing I already know: neither of them can ever replace my best friend, Penny.

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Comments are closed. I don’t want condolences. Please respect my wishes and don’t comment elsewhere or email me about this. The best thing in the world that you can do is either choose adoption for your next pet or donate to organizations that rescue and find homes for dogs and cats.