Paris

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 It’s 4:00 on Saturday afternoon.

I just watched my beautiful dog, Paris, take her last breath.

The last voice she heard was mine, as I sang her the song that I sang to her every day for the last 13 years.

“Paris France, she can dance. She does the Pair-Pair without her pants. Paris is my buddy, Paris is my girl. Paris wants to get the squirrel.”

Yeah.

Silly.

But every night she also came to my bed and stopped by to see me before she went off to sleep.

I went through the list of all the names I had for her.

Paris, Pair, Pair-Pair, P, P-dog, Pee Pod, Pee Soup, Paradise, Pair Potato, Pistol, Pistol P and Pistol P the Paravich and Pisser the Kisser.

Really silly, right?

Paris would give me kisses all the way through.

And it was all so sudden.

She went for a ride yesterday. Jumped into the car. Sam got out at work and reached back in to give her a kiss and a hug.

When she was 4 she got sick.

Kidney disease.

She needed prednisone every day. Kathy gave her a shot every month.

They told us we would have 3 good years.

We got 9!

And when she took her last breath I was kneeling  next to her.

“Dad loves you. Sam, Matt, Jake & Mom love you.”

I gave her a big kiss.

“You were a great dog, P. I hope you get to see Melky.”

And then I cried.

And thought about how lucky we were to have her for so long.

I’ll really miss Pair-Pair.

She’s young and running free again.

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