All Dogs go to Heaven

It’s hard to believe my sweet Cookie Dough has been gone for a little over a year now. Faithful and true to the very end, she was the most important part of my furry family for thirteen years.

Saying goodbye to her is still one of the most difficult things I’ve faced. She sat in my lap letting me love her and pet her as tears streamed down my cheeks and fell softly onto her dark fur. At this point she had lost her eyesight and was suffering greatly because of severe pancreatitis. The veterinarian would come in and check on us for time to time that fateful afternoon waiting for me to signal I was ready to put her down. Each time, she entered I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with her.

I was six months pregnant with Atticus and remember feeling grief-stricken that Cookie would never have the opportunity to meet my first child. Cookie had been everything I could have ever wanted in a pet. From the first time I brought her home until her final night with me, she slept beside me; always burrowed under the sheets and cozied up next to me. I remember cradling her in my hands when I picked her up for the first time. She couldn’t have weighed more than three and a half pounds. Her large doe eyes and giant ears looked almost cartoonish on her petite frame. Cookie celebrated my graduation from college, moved thirteen different times with me, endured an incredibly traumatic apartment fire, and loved me unconditionally for thirteen beautiful years.

Thunderstorms sent poor Cookie into a tizzy. She would shake uncontrollably and cry out in fear; often burrowing under the sheets or ducking underneath the bed to escape the rainy conditions. She despised baths almost as much as she despised other dogs and delivery men. After a bath, she would run circles around the apartment, rolling around and cozying up in a towel to warm up. If I was in the kitchen cooking, she was always underfoot eager to nibble up any food that might fall off of the counter or stovetop. She especially loved Granny Smith apples, romaine lettuce, and carrot peels. I was always more than happy to share these healthy treats with her.

Atticus is now closing in on a year. He often reaches for Barkley (Sean’s fifteen-year-old Westie) and loves staring at him eye-to-eye through the backdoor. I can’t help but wonder how Cookie and Atticus would have interacted. Liam formed a strong bond with her and expressed great sadness when she died. Would they have been thick as thieves too?

I still think of Cookie often, especially on rainy days, when I peel carrots, or when I take my socks off after a run. She loved playing with them; pouncing on them and going into attack mode like they were a fierce beast threatening her very existence. Cookie truly stole my heart from the very beginning and will forever have a special place there until the end of time. She may be gone but my sweet Cookie Dough will never be forgotten.

“All dogs go to heaven because, unlike people, dogs are naturally good and loyal and kind.” Quote from All Dogs go to Heaven (1989)

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