In Memoriam

It all started Thursday evening. I had just returned from picking up my daughter from Lafayette so she could spend the weekend at home before classes start next week. After a quick stop by the house she left to run some errands. She returned to find our dog, Braddock, bouncing around in the driveway meaning Layla, our other dog, was still on the loose. They had gotten out of an open window in my son's room. He had forgotten it was open and it's covered by curtains and partially obscured by some furniture.

We drove around for 2 hours Thursday night calling for her. Friday I called the pound and my daughter and her boyfriend papered the neighborhood with fliers. Saturday morning someone called me to tell me her friend had seen a boxer get hit by a car on the highway a couple blocks from our house. She said there was another boxer with her that ran off. The coincidences were too close to leave even a sliver of hope that it wasn't our girl. In tears I called my husband and asked him to go look while he was out running errands. It was her.

Braddock is our "main" dog. It's not the right way to put it, but we got him as a puppy and he is the best dog I've ever had. Layla showed up on our doorstep about 5 years ago. According to the vet she was about a year and half old. She had been kept tied up in someone's yard judging by the makeshift slip lead she had on which was attached to rubber tubing attached to a hook. Because of this I'll admit we didn't try really hard to find her owner. My son took to her immediately. She became his dog. Braddock even seemed smitten with her even though he was fixed. She was a great watch dog, very friendly and very energetic and desperate for attention. She was also a runner. We had one memorable run-in with Animal Control that cost us a good bit, and my husband was always getting calls from our neighbors when she managed to scale a fence or find an open window or door. She even managed to get out of a window that was missing one of the small panes of glass even though I never would have thought she could squeeze through an opening so small.

All day Saturday we cried. I cried more for the heartbreak I saw on my children's faces. My son was inconsolable and his grief was matched with anger. My daughter did not stop crying for the rest of her visit. Everywhere were reminders of Layla that triggered a new set of tears. Half the time I didn't know if I was crying for the loss of Layla or because of the heartbreak I had to watch my kids suffer through.

My husband, who claims not to be sentimental (and who also claimed to not like Layla) chose a spot under my sweet olive tree as her final resting place. The big softie is even talking about engraving a stone paver as her headstone.

My eulogy to her is this: She wasn't a bad dog. She wasn't a great dog. She was a silly dog. She was a loyal dog. She was our dog.

Rest in peace Layla. I will always remember you as my son's first true love.