I’ve never really had to go through a death in the family before. Most of the people I know had gone through a loss of a friend or family member at some point in their lives, but I’d been fortunate enough to have never had a death in the family.
I mean, when I was 10, my great-grandmother died and I went to her funeral, but I didn’t know her very well, so I wasn’t too upset – it was more unnerving for me to see everybody else so sad.
Last week, my family took our dog to the vet because she needed a refill on her pain medication. We ended up walking out of there heartbroken, with a dying dog who was given one week to live.
I know that Katy is really old; she’s 15 – that’s over 100 in human years. I know that she was nearing the end of her life, but I’m just not ready for her to go, even though I know she’s ready.
My sister has been taking this the hardest – she grew up with Katy. They were born in the same year just a few months apart, so they grew up together. My brothers only ever knew a life with her in it.
I can barely remember a time where she wasn’t part of our family. I was about 5 when my dad brought her home.
It was Valentine’s Day 2001 and my dad came home from work with two red, heart-shaped balloons, a vase of red roses and on the end of a bright pink leash, a small black puppy who was hopping around and whining excitedly.
“Aww, you adopted her,” my mom squealed excitedly. “I knew she wanted to come home with us.”
We had taken a trip to the pound a few days earlier and my mom fell in love with this dog immediately. Katy was bouncing around in her cage the second she saw us, like she knew we would adopt her.
Katy was a bad puppy – it took her a couple years to get house-trained because she was so stubborn, she chewed up everything she could get her paws on, she dug holes in the yard – which caused us to almost break our ankles – and she ran away the second you cracked the door open.
There were multiple occasions where my mom would shout that she wanted to take her back to the pound – but then she would look at Katy’s sweet, brown eyes and change her mind.
Katy eventually mellowed out and was the best dog you could have hoped for. She would let us kids hang off of her, cuddle with her, pull her ears and tail and she still loved us.
I never knew what it was like to have a death in the family – until now. I’m hoping she’ll finally be at peace Wednesday night when we let her go.
Though she’s old and frail now, I’ll always remember her as that energetic little puppy who knew we were her family before we knew she would be our puppy.
I know I’ll have many more pets in the future, but I’ll never forget my first dog. Rest in peace, Katy.

SAMANTHA GRISWOLD
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