I have come to love my blogging on Tuesday, I love writing Tuesday blogs and reading everyone elses so imagine my panic when this only my 4th Tuesday I was stumped by topic choice….what could I write about? So many different topics none of which I was feeling but like John Lennon once sang “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans”. I didn’t find my topic it found me.
My dad had always loved boxers, he thought they were incredibly graceful and friendly dogs he always wanted one and for Christmas in 1990 (yep quick calculation of my age I was 8) my brother Simon bought him one. He named her Holly (as in Christmas Holly) and she became part of our family. He loved her, we loved her and when he passed away we loved her even more because she was his. Holly passed away in 2000 she was 10 years old (Boxers live 8-12 years) we were devastated not just because we had lost our dog but it felt like another little part of my father had gone as well.
My older sister J bought my mum another dog, another boxer the following year. She was beautiful the colour of Honey in sunlight a rich almost amber colour, she was spirited and fun and was completely certain that she was infact a human being. Mum named her Honey Dew but she was only ever called Honey.
She made me laugh soooo much from the time she was 4 months old and looked at me with a swollen snout (damn bee sting) or when I realised that the colour flecks all over her white face were from the 500g bag of M and M’s she had just stolen and devoured (yep apparently chocolate doesn’t make all dogs sick some thrive on it) it was so difficult to stay mad at her.
She loved my sister K the most almost like they were real life sisters but I was a good substitute. On cold winter nights she would wait until I had laid down on the couch and put a blanket over myself and then she would climb up on my back and sleep there all 30 something kilos of her keeping me warm and making me feel safe.
She was the queen of guard dogs nobody would have dared rob our house. She would climb up and sit on one of the dining chairs so straight like she was a human and when she was outside for too long she would do this moan that sounded almost like her saying “Come On”.
When I was diagnosed with PCOS Honey was the one I went on walks with trying to make sense of it all. Then my mum moved to Melbourne 5 years ago and Honey went to live with K but it always made me smile that she would continue to do the “Come On” moan when she felt like she shouldn’t be outside.
Today was Honeys last day on this Earth, I’m so sad I cannot say so I guess I’ll finish it with this if today was my last day I would wanna be sure to live Honeys way- too much chocolate and with protective loyal friendship.
<Linking up with the incredible Jess at Diary of a SAHM for IBOT>