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Pet Memoriam
Rosemary
Rosemary was adopted in summer of 2017, before my sophomore year of college, when she was likely two years old. It was very important to me that my service dog be adopted from a shelter rather than a program that gets them through partnered breeders, though there weren't any big service dog organizations in the area that would train a dog for what I needed without me being a veteran, anyway. I worked with private trainers that helped find the right dog for me; not every dog is a good fit for this kind of work. When they found her, her name was Wendy, and she had just given birth to a litter of puppies. After seeing how gentle and sweet she was with them, it was clear to my trainers that she was the perfect fit.
Rosemary wasn't always the most patient when on the job, wanting to be the first into the building when I open a door or lying down if we were standing in the same spot for too long. She was good at tucking, but if there was enough space for her to sprawl out, she'd take the opportunity. I was really self-conscious about that after seeing how viscious online service dog communities are about sniffing out "fakes." At the end of the day, though, service dogs aren't robots, and her little quirks never made her bad at her job. Without her, I would've had to walk out on a lot more classes than I did. She kept me calm when nothing else would, and I'm very thankful for that. Beyond her tasks, I often just felt unsafe out in the world, and having someone to come with me made everything a little less scary.
Rosemary was, by far, the most tolerant dog I have ever met. You could grab her snout and shake her face around, mess with her paws, or stretch the extra skin she has on the sides of her face, and the most she would do if she doesn't like something is paw at you or use her mouth to push you away. She got noisier with age, but I think the number of times she barked is still under thirty, and when she did, it was never more than one or two at a time. When she was younger, she would play by ripping all the stuffing out of her plushies. She just let go of something if I tried to play tug-of-war with her, so I used my arm or my foot to play games like that, because she never bit hard enough to hurt me. She loved running around all over the place on an open field, chasing any ball I would throw but never actually picking it up to bring it back to me.
I continued to take Rosemary to classes with me throughout college, but I gradually stopped taking her with me to other places, like the grocery store or therapy. At first, it wasn't because I didn't need her, but because I couldn't cope with the attention I got from having her with me. When I graduated college, I was feeling a little more stable to go out on my own, since I wasn't being put in potentially triggering situations much anymore. When I met my girlfriend, she became the person to go with me to the stressful stuff and Rosemary became just a regular dog. Once she recognized that she didn't have to be professional anymore, I got to see even more of her personality.
Rosemary was smart enough to know when she could get away with breaking a rule, though she only pretended not to hear commands when it came from my girlfriend, since she respected her a little less than me. She made a lot of dad noises and got whiny when she wanted to be pet or fed, which was cute, funny, and annoying at the same time while I was trying to watch TV with dinner. Around the end of her life, she spent most of her day curled up in a bed or sprawled out in a sunny spot. I always appreciated when she forced my door open with her nose so she coulde come lie in my room while I worked, even though she wasn't able to close the door behind her. When my girlfriend was home and on her computer, her office was where Rosemary would spend the rest of the evening. Above all else, the trait I loved the most about my dog was how affectionate she was. she leaned on me when I asked for a hug and nuzzled her head into my hand while I pet her. I'm not the best at reading social cues, but with Rosemary, it was never hard to tell that she loves me.
For years, I was constantly fearing and planning for Rosemary's inevitable passing. She was basically the only reason I kept living in college, so the idea of losing her was terrifying. When she got much older, I learned to stop worrying so much about what'd it be like once she was gone and tried to just enjoy the moment. Not long after, she pretty abruptly developed some digestive issues that led to her passing away. The morning after, she made herself known through signs, symbols, and just this feeling that she was still with me. I baked some muffins for her that she never ate, so I put it on the porch and found a squirrel eating it that wasn't bothered by my presence. She was beside me on the left as I went on my morning walk, same as always, and at night, the full moon was so bright that it lit up the city.
There are still times where I can interact with Rosemary. Most of the time, it's through dreams. I've always had pretty vivid dreams, but I know she's really there when I have all my senses—I don't just feel her fur as I pet her, but her warmth and the weight on my lap. I also once visited her around Halloween through a guided meditation at church. I don't really know what afterlife is like, but when I see visions of her, she's running around in the snowy field she was too anxious to play in on her last birthday. One day, I'll get to run around with her again.
Princess
my biological family adopted Princess when I was around the end of my high school junior year. At the time, she was already about eleven or twelve years old. I was doing volunteer dog walking at an animal shelter in part because I wanted a dog but couldn't have one due to my sister's phobia. The reason Princess became the exception was because, as high school me put it, "Princess is afraid of dogs, too." I was originally told that Princess was being fostered but would be available for adoption later when my family said they were ready to adopt, but when we asked again later, we found that the foster owner had decided to adopt her instead. My bio mom explained our situation to the other owner, who willingly gave us Princess. I'm still friends with the previous owner today.
Princess joined my family already missing all but one of her teeth, and that last one was removed a couple years after she was adopted, so her tongue sometimes stuck out. Most of her anxiety came from what she had been rescued from, though I won't get into the details there beyond the fact that she couldn't handle being put in a crate. Eventually, we learned to just slip out of the house without her noticing. When she was taken on outings with us, she would usually be put in a stroller or a carry-on bag, since she got tired of walking pretty quick. Princess scratched at people's hands if they stopped petting her and cried when she wasn't getting enough attention. While she probably barked less than five times in the years that she was part of my life, she certainly lived up to her namesake—she was spoiled and would not tolerate anything less.
When I was still in high school, Princess almost always slept in my bed and followed me around wherever I went if I was the only one home. She wore a lot of vests to keep her warm, and when I took a sewing class, I chose sew a one with a tutu during the project that involved following a sewing pattern of our choice. One (formerly) child alter in particular was very attached to her, and there are a few videos I have saved where she simply filmed herself petting Princess as she looked up at her with those massive eyes and made little snorting noises. I still often think about her massive eyes as she looked up at us, whining for attention, and the way she would snap her mouth like a ravenous seagull whenever we offered her frozen peas.
Whenever my bio family was on vacation, the friend that originally adopted Princess would pet-sit her for us. Throughout the trip, we'd recieve text messages with photographs she took of Princess all dressed up. Some of my favorite pictures of her are the ones taken while we were on vacation. When me and my family came back home, Princess would do zoomies on the first floor before rubbing her side all over one of the couches. I loved seeing her roll around on stuff, and since she didn't stink or shed fur, there was no problem with her rubbing herself all over our fresh laundry.
After going off to college, I became less close with Princess. I'm not sure if she stopped recognizing me as much because of my medical transition, but either way, she just didn't want to spend that much time with me when I visited. She also wasn't a fan of Rosemary, who was a little too friendly and would get in her face. Around her last year of life, she was really hesitant to eat her food. I mixed it with peas and chicken broth before sitting with her by the food bowl until she felt comfortable eating if I was there, something my bio family was unwilling to do.
I was on campus when Princess passed away at the age of fifteen. It was very sudden, but I knew when I abruptly got a phone call from my sister that it was about Princess before I picked up. She already had a heart condition, which took a turn for the worse. My college was several states away, so I wasn't able to go back to see her in person one more time. I couldn't really process the fact that she died without being with her while it happened, so I just went numb about it. I feel a lot of frustration about how much patience my bio family had for her, but there's nothing I can do about that now. Despite that, I know she lived a good life for the short amount of time we had her.
I did find some closure in the end, though. In one of my dreams where Rosemary visited me, she brought Princess along, and she climbed all over my lap with those big eyes and made her little snorting sounds as I pet her head. It hurt to see her drift away from me in those last years, but knowing she felt I was worth visiting brings me a lot of comfort. She was really happy to see me, and I was happy to see her too.