For Audrey
The best dog.
When Sarah and I first moved in together, one of our top wishes was to adopt a dog. I grew up with one side of my family having dogs (Fritz, Max, Jak), cats (Pickle!), birds (too many to count), turtles and other animals. The other side — the side I lived with full-time — only had a mean barn cat named Bella who never liked me but was still a constant, endearing presence in our lives. And Sarah’s family always had pets, namely a dog named Ledger and a cat named Kitty.
Our time in that first apartment was rough. I was working overnights, and Sarah and I barely ever saw each other awake. We were both pretty lost, in an existential sense. So when our lease was up, a dog-friendly apartment was non-negotiable. We ended up finding a truly minuscule place — about 250 square feet divided up into a 1 bed-1 bath — in a great neighborhood. And they allowed dogs.
A couple months later, we ventured downtown to Chicago’s Anti-Cruelty Society, just to check out which dogs were available. We weren’t sure we’d walk out with a pet, but we hoped we would. I’ll never forget turning the corner to see a small boxer mix looking up at us with brown eyes and the most perfect little smile. It was love in an instant.
Sarah and I debated briefly over names. At the time we adopted her, I was deep in my first watch of Twin Peaks. Sarah and I both loved Parks and Recreation (and we still do). So we ended up with Audrey Ann, after the naive troublemaker on Twin Peaks and the poetic, noble land mermaid on Parks.
Working overnights, I slept at odd times. I rolled over one evening as Sarah said, “Bad girl! Bad girl! I take away all the good girls I gave you all day!” I chuckled as I rolled back over and thought “Oh man… she messed up.” Audrey had chewed up a cushion on our brand-new couch, a sin quickly forgiven but a story never forgotten.
Audrey made the move with us from Chicago to Nashville. She hated riding in our car, desperate for attention on the long drives. Anytime we mentioned her name, she’d perk up and start whining, trying to weasel her way to the front seat with us. We learned to stop talking about her by name, instead referring to her as Mariah, after her fellow diva.
She also took on the name Punky Duder during this time. No idea where that one came from.
Audrey made another long trek with us when we moved to South Bend to be closer to family. She loved the stairs in our new apartment, running up and down when she got the zoomies.
When our son was born, Audrey took on a new role: Mama Audrey. Anytime JuJu made a peep, Audrey ran to us to make sure we heard him. She was anxious for a while but eventually grew to love Julien. By the time Linnea was born, Audrey was used to the chaos and accepted her place in the family.
Around Christmas last year, Audrey developed a lump on her head out of nowhere. We weren’t sure what the cause was, but she was still as spry as ever, so we decided to keep an eye on it. Less than a month later, I returned from a work trip to find her weak, uninterested in anything and clearly uncomfortable. We took her to the vet, expecting the worst. They gave us some steroids, and it was like we had the old Audrey back. For a while. Eventually, her condition worsened, but those steroids gave us another two months with her.
We had ten good years with Audrey. And I pray she feels the same way. Losing her is one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had, but seeing her suffer was worse. I know she’s with Grandma and Grandpa Dashley, Sharon and everyone else I miss, soaking up the cuddles and treats and love. But that doesn’t take away how much it sucks to be without her in this realm.
When Grandma Dashley passed, the pastor shared something that will stick with me through any loss: “Heaven isn’t up on the clouds, far away from us. It’s just on the other side of the veil. Those we’ve loved and lost are walking with us every day.” Fortunately and unfortunately, I’ve got a few people I miss dearly who are walking by my side. I’m so lucky to have loved them and that I can count Audrey among them now.
To Audrey Ann Trouble Smith-Dashley, lover of UPS trucks, hater of baths, constant companion, best friend. I love you.
