Wherein Bry writes a letter to her dog.

Dear Tyra:

For nearly 16 years, you have been a most loyal companion. Though you have always loved me best, your affection was shared with the entire family. From your head nudges and wagging tail to your discriminating kisses, you have told us how much you appreciate and love us.

When you were just a pup, I pulled you from the box at Bi-Lo and after ten easy minutes of nagging, I had convinced Mom to let me take you home. “You are so spoiled,” said Mike. (He was just jealous).

As a compromise I let Mike help choose your name and several hours after you came home, we dubbed you Tyra. So named for one Sports Illustrated supermodel (I’m sorry, but now she is just known as an annoying talk show host).

You survived a fall into a fast moving creek, a scary collision with a Ford Tempo and numerous hurt legs while jumping in and out of trucks and vans.

But you also enjoyed thousands of trips to the river and hundreds of camping trips. There were a million car rides and bike rides. You are pretty good at fetch (though you have a hard time seeing the stick these days).

You always kept my feet warm in the winter and watched over me when I slept under the stars in the summer. You were a good mom to your fourteen babies. (Though I’m pretty sure you were not sad to see them go on to their own homes).

Thank you for always being there to meet us at the end of the day. And thank you for walking me to the bus stop for four of our years together.

Now, as you go in for a lumpectomy, I hope and pray that everything is okay. I’m sorry you have to go to the vet (it is okay to pee on the floor when you get there. The vet is scary. We won’t hold it against you). I’m sorry I won’t be there to take you and hold your little paw during the surgery. (Bill will take care of you. He loves you almost as much as I do). I’m sorry I won’t be able to take you home and feed you canned dog good and pet your fat belly (Mom will be there, she loves to take care of people and animals).

And if for some reason it is your time to go, just close your pretty brown eyes and take a nap. We will love you and miss you. Mom will bury you under the rose bushes and every spring and summer you will bloom as a fresh yellow rose.

Love,The Girl