Sonny, 9/21/2008 – 6/9/2014

by Jay

Note: Obviously, there’s quite a bit of dust on this blog, but that’s what happens when you become a lead editor and content manager for a fantasy sports site. Everything I want to say, I say over there. Everything else? Well, there’s just not enough time. For this post, I made time.

The truth is, I never was a ‘dog person’. I never understood the goofy noises owners would make at their dogs. I never understood all the money they spent. And I never understood why any person would turn their lives upside down to accommodate an animal.

Until Sonny.

I remember when I first met her. Just on a whim, one day, I decided to check-out a newly formed litter. Out of the eight that were released from behind the fence, only one approached me. Her ferocious curiosity won me over. You could say she chose me.

Straight out of Pavlov’s handbook, when I first brought her home, I would take her paw and ring a bell at the door before we went for a walk to do her business. A few weeks later, much to my delight, she rang the bell herself to use the restroom. I was proud. A few weeks after that, she rang the bell, but not to go to the bathroom, but to go play outside. She had figured it all out, and now used the bell on me. I was even prouder.

There was many a time when she would bring a toy over and lay it in my lap. Sometimes, I just didn’t want to play. Her response? She would grab the toy from my lap, walk it over to the corner of the room, and dump it in the trash can. As if that didn’t convey her sassiness enough, she also had the added pleasure of walking to the opposite side of the room and lay down, her back facing me. The cutest disdain ever recorded.

Every person she met, it was with a large volume of barks, but no one was fooled… The licks and wagging tail betrayed the fact that she was a lover. Definitely not a fighter.

She loved kimchi. She loved peanut butter. Often both at the same time. And, of course, bacon. (Who doesn’t?)

Sonny was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and at the time, her prognosis was devastating; anywhere from a week to three months was the general survival window… if I was lucky. That day was one year-and-a-half ago. And today was her last.

I won’t pretend to fit her entire lifetime into one cathartic and unworthy post. Just hopefully a few words that can try and convey what she meant to me.

I never understood why people did what they did for their dogs. Today, I know I won’t ever forget.

Sonny, I love ya. Thanks for stopping by for a bit. It meant… the world to me.