Such a good dog...

Small back story...I never had a dog while growing up. I know, some of you are thinking I never lived the American dream. Well, we had a LARGE yard, my mom said that the dog would have to stay outside, and there was no way we were going to fence that large of a yard. (This is what happens when your mother grows up on a farm...all the animals stayed outside)

Fast forward to my early 20's when I get married. My in-laws have a sheltie named Chelsea, pictured here. She's kind of goofy, but a good dog. In my mind, she sort of becomes the dog I never had. Unfortunately, earlier tonight, we got a call from my mother-in-law, saying that they had to put Chelsea to sleep. :( She was having trouble walking, and all of the sudden it got worse. That, and she wasn't eating. She was 13 years old. Bear with me, but I want to relate three stories, if I could.

My first memorable encounter with Chelsea was while I was taking a nap on my in-laws couch. I'm just about asleep when all of the sudden I'm licked right on the lips and nostrils. Ugh! That's what happens when she's right at face level while you're lying on the couch. Thank you, Chelsea, love you, too. The second story was when my husband and I were house-sitting/pet-sitting while my in-laws were out of town. I ran back to their house over lunch hour to throw some laundry into the dryer. In the morning, Chelsea was locked up in the basement, and I had already let her out in the backyard. I step on the rug in front of the dryer to start throwing laundry in...and...surprise. A nice present where I couldn't see it, and I stepped in it with my bare foot. She got reprimanded for that, although I felt bad after doing it. And finally, my last encounter with her. We were dropping my brother-in-law back off at home after visiting my father-in-law in Minnesota this past July. We were just standing around, talking, and I kept getting the cold nose right in the kneecaps. I finally bent down, ruffled up Chelsea's fur around her neck, and said something to the effect of "Yes, I know Chelsea, you want attention, too." At least the last memory is a good memory. Maybe she knew something and was trying to say goodbye. I'm glad she did.

We'll miss you, Chelsea. No more scavenger dog...no more "easy clean-up" for my mother-in-law when she's a little klutzy and drops some food...no more boxing...no more asking for you to fill out complicated tax forms. Be a good doggie.