Abby (1997-2008)

She was born in the dusty backyard of a breeder in West Texas. There was a whole litter of puppies that looked exactly alike – shiny and black, all ears and paws. I wondered how I would ever decide which one to take. I picked up a couple of them, and I still couldn’t tell them apart.

I picked up Abby, and she licked me on the face. I never put her down.

She loved to swim in the Gulf of Mexico and drink the salt water in gulps. And then throw it all up. She loved to roll in disgusting messes. She learned that if she leaned into it and rubbed it on her collar, the smell would stay longer.

She loved to lick faces, with the ultimate goal of sticking her tongue in your mouth if you got distracted during it and started talking. Her favorite people were those age 4 and under – just the right height for licking.

She was fearless. On hikes, she would run full-speed to the edge of the trail – only the weight of her ass kept her from careening down canyon walls and mountainsides.

If she took time to think about it, she would never disobey. The other dog in the family, Cody, sometimes went into manic tears through the house when left alone. But when I opened the front door, it was Abby who was waiting, with her head hanging. She was innocent but felt the shame for both of them.

She was never a mother, but she had the instincts for it. On walks, she would run ahead, then back. She would round everyone up and then race ahead again. When I cried, she looked me straight in the eye and leaned her big, warm body against me until I stopped.

She never barked, but when Matthew swam in the pool she would run circles around it, yelping in a panic. When he popped out of the water, she would lean over the edge and lick his face so hard, her teeth would knock against his head.

She was not smart enough to be conniving. She didn’t understand much except how to love. She depended on that to win your heart. And she did.

Abby died today. She had a giant tumor in her abdomen that the vet found yesterday. She went peacefully.

In her last minutes, she took the tears off Anthony’s face with a big lick on the nose.

Comments

[Mary]

A wonderful tribute for a beloved friends. Sending you extra canine karma today.

[Courtney]

Poor Abby. I think she loved everyone. I'm so glad you mentioned her chasing Matthew around the pool, because that's my best Abby memory. It cracks me up every time I think of it. Hope you're doing OK.

[Kelly]

I'm so sorry for your lose. My thoughts and prays are with you and Anthony today. I'm so glad you have each other in a time like this.

[Heather]

I am so so sorry. That's terrible news and I hope you are doing as well as could be expected.

[Kim]

Hey Gretchen, Sorry to hear about Abby. I've enjoyed reading about her exploits in LA on your blog. You're in our thoughts.
Kim and Jon

[matthew]

i can´t even think about this right now. i couldn´t read past the first few lines, which were incredible, of course, but too much to handle.

[Jeff]

I'll miss that filthy whore.

[catherine]

I'm so, so sorry, Gretchen. Take care, and know we are all thinking of you.

[Ike]

I'm sorry to hear about your lose. It sounds like she had a good life and will be well remembered.

[Megan Parker]

Oh, Abby. How devastating. I am so sorry. I remember visiting you guys in Baltimore and we were all sitting in the living room and you suddenly looked at me and guiltily said 'Sorry, Abby just farted. You'll smell it in a minute.' Abby seemed suitably apologetic and I forgave her. I am so sorry for your loss and I know she loved you immensely. She told me so when I visited last year and was walking her while you were at work. xxx

[Miguel]

Oh, so sorry to hear this. Abby was one of my favorite labs of all time. Really.

Condolences, Gretchen.

[Parker]

Thank you so much for your thoughts, guys. It's helping. I hope tomorrow will be better.

[Jeff]

Sorry to hear about Abby. I have a black Lab, too. Lincoln. He's wound tighter than a coil, but we love his sweet heart.

It'll get better. Promise.

[Matt]

I love that dog...whenever we played poker if she sat underneath my chair I would win. She was definitely good luck...or maybe she was just eating my pizza crumbs...she was an awesome doggie and will be missed by all.

love ya,

matt

[Spaldo]

Our world and our homes are better places with dogs. The depressing part is that we only get them for 16 years, tops. Fred literally had his cancer scare a day after our 2nd trimester miscarriage last fall, and I looked at the 44-pound ball of red fur in the eye (Ronnetta was still in the hospital) and told him: "You've got to hang on and help me get Netta, and myself, through this -- YOU are our therapy." Fred did just that - he recuperated and rejuvenated us. We will be forever grateful, even though he still eats the occasional stranger dog's poop and gets hair on our favorite rug. The pain I feel is for you is the pain I will myself one day feel, so your pals with pets today suffer your loss with you. Fred sends his condolences to Abby as do we.

[enhager]

I've had Olivia the cat since 1995, my whole adult life, and we've moved from newspaper to newspaper together. I'm very sorry. I was so looking forward to getting to know Abbey the dog blogger - I was sure one day she would talk and write - at least you gave her a wonderful life.

[Katrina]

I'm trying to think of something other than sorry, but my tears are keeping me from thinking straight. Without a doubt, dog is truly man's best friend. Java helped me get through so much during the dark days of divorce. Abby's happiness was a reflection of all the love she carried in her heart -- yours for her and hers for you -- and she will remain forever in yours.

[Amanda]

Gretchen, so sorry to hear about Abby. I remember coming back to our rowhouse in Ridgely's many evenings and seeing you and the crew in the dogpark--Cody hyper and Abby more mellow, just radiating her special sweetness. I hope she is drinking saltwater to her heart's content up in doggie heaven!

[Kelly]

RIP Abby. See you in dog heaven.