Conversations with Patsy

Some of you may know...others may not...but I conversate with our Golden Retriever, Patsy...or I did. Last fall, Patsy's vet found a mass on her spleen that was a likely Hemangiosarcoma, and after 9 good months post diagnosis Patsy slipped away from us as she crossed over the rainbow bridge. Patsy was 6 when Amy and I began our life together, although I had known her and befriended her since she was a puppy chasing after her green tennis ball. Almost instantly upon moving in, Patsy and I began our conversations. Amy says she never knew what kind of potty mouth Patsy had before I moved in...I say she was just thankful to finally have a voice. I had this innate way of looking into her soul and feel what she was feeling in order to vocalize it. Sometimes the conversations were between Patsy and Amy, with me speaking for Patsy...sometimes they were between her and the kids...but mostly they were between her and I when we were alone. Patsy emitted complete happiness when she was with her people. Although she did have dog friends, her best friend was a black lab by the name of Fred Sr., she preferred people, their company, scratches, rubs, hugs, kisses, and general happiness to be in her presence. It's funny, Patsy was a people dog and we have a horse who is also a people horse...but Patsy did not really like horses. She felt that "horses are stupid." I think that she felt this way because the horses took us away from home where she was...also in recent years horses have taken over our lives more and more, in turn taking us away from Patsy at home. There were times when Patsy would go to the barn with us but she really wasn't a "barn dog" and really was just most excited about going home. Patsy preferred car rides that took her to the field to run or to Grandma and Grandpa's house so she could visit more of her people...and she really didn't mind going to the Pet People for a bath, as long as, she got to pick out her treats, a new toy, and then through Wendy's for a plain hamburger on the way home. In our conversations, Patsy was never afraid to tell me (or Amy) how she was feeling...bluntly. She also did not hesitate to tell us how much she loved us. I am missing also the silent times with Patsy when she would just be content to be lying at my feet. I am missing her smiles, her blissful looks, how she would shake her head and it would sound like a helicopter, how she would stare me down panting hard to tell me she needed her fan on, her peaceful, relaxed breathing as she would soothe herself while sucking her favorite wooby, her growling while playing tug of war, her pulling me to get to a squirrel in a yard, her searching for, finding, and carrying around her rawhide bone, which is more than 5 years old, after breakfast and dinner, her carrying around a waffle and whining with happiness, her sucking in her sides, groaning, and making herself look all swayback so she looked emaciated and pathetic so you would feel sorry for her and give her some of what you were eating, sharing the end of an ice cream cone after walking to Greater's or DQ on a summer's evening, listening to her crunch things...especially crutons, her anticipating the kids coming home every other Sunday and her worrying when they are late, the clicking of her nails on the hardwood floors, her slurping water and getting into the zone while doing it and forgetting to save some for the fish, but more than anything else I am missing my conversations with Patsy. The house is so quiet without those silly conversations.