My number one girl.

One time a good friend made me 8 beautiful and delicious smelling buttermilk biscuits. I had never experienced homemade buttermilk biscuits. Only store bought or from a restaurant... I was so excited. They were soft and did I mention how delicious they smelled? I brought them home but couldn't eat them right away because, work. They were in a perfect little brown bag. I set them on the counter and had planned to come home from work and make an appropriate delicious homemade meal to match my delicious homemade buttermilk biscuits. If you know me, you know how excited I was for this plan because, food.

Upon my return my number one girl and most perfect dog in the entire world greeted me at the door like she always does. Happy and wagging and eager to run outside. I let out the other dogs from the room and noticed a perfect brown bag on the floor. "Oh, that's strange, that looks like the biscuit bag," I thought. "Oh, it is the biscuit bag, but there's no biscuits."

Turns out my number one girl had eaten all 8 buttermilk biscuits. She didn't rip up the bag, not one tear. I don't know how she did that without opposable thumbs but she did. There wasn't even a crumb left. I always imagined that she sat like a person and ate them one-by-one enjoying every bite. She might have even made herself a cup of coffee and watched some afternoon soaps while savoring in my homemade buttermilk biscuits. We will never know.

This is probably about the naughtiest thing she's ever done. There will be an occasional shoe out of place and sometimes when she's really annoyed with me she will pull out a book from the shelf. It won't be ripped up. But sitting in the middle of the living room just to teach me a lesson. "Never leave the house without me."

It's not often in my line of work that we "know this dog's story." We get asked that question a lot about the animals we help. "What's that dog's story?" And 99.9% of the time we have no clue. We meet dogs and cats at the shelters and they've mostly lived out their puppy-hood. Adult animals that we don't have a history other than a few boxes that were checked off in the system: "moving", "no time", "lost housing", etc.

I don't know that dog's story. And I never will. The important thing that I like to tell people is that from this moment forward, they are fed, they have a warm bed at night, they are cared for, they are loved. We don't know what their story was but we can determine what the rest of the story will be.

For Theresa, I knew her entire story. I knew how everything happened from the very beginning. The joke I love to make is that I physically birthed her. Now, I know that might sound weird. But I really did. I was there from the moment she was born - in the backyard she was born in - she was breached and I PULLED HER OUT OF THE BIRTH CANAL! AND HAD TO RIP OPEN HER DISGUSTING LITTLE SACK AND GET HER TO BREATHE. It was very gross and this is a story for another day, and there is a lot of explaining that has to be done to my fellow animal welfare folks. But from that moment forward, Theresa and her 9 litter mates set me on a course that would change my life as I knew it forever. So this is how it began.

This is not a post about my animal welfare career. This post is about My number one girl. My very best friend. My one and only. My Theresita.  

From the very beginning there was something special about her. Although she was the smallest, she was the smartest. My mom (having a very catholic moment) named her after Mother Teresa. Why? Because she was a pit bull dog. At the time, we didn't know much about pit bull dogs but what we thought we knew was it was going to be hard to keep her a "good dog." So, my mother in her very catholic moment decided she needed a saintly name so she would have saintly qualities. We were never really planning on keeping her. She just sort of... stayed. One-by-one all her litter mates were placed into loving homes. One-by-one they left and she just...stayed.

I loved them all. But I loved her the most. 

She was independent and too smart for her own good and brought me so much joy. 

There was just something really special about her.

I was a young 20-something. I had just bounced back into my parents home after graduating college. I found myself very unemployed and dealing with raging anxiety. I had several part time jobs to get back on my feet.

Several part time jobs, raging anxiety and a perfect dog. 

We went running together. We cried together. We went hiking together. We ran errands together. We babysat together. We sat next to hospital beds together. We had girls days and just...hung out. Again, these are all stories for another time. The point is...

We did everything...together.

I don't know much about soulmates. But if you can define our bond and our relationship she is without a doubt my soulmate. 

Eventually we were able to move out to a place of our own but not without agreeing to foster. By this time my passion and involvement in animal welfare was in full force. This is probably one of the most defining things in our friendship with each other. I can't tell you how many dogs we've fostered together. We've simply lost count. With every dog we brought into our tiny little home Theresa taught me lessons.

She taught me patience. 

She taught me acceptance. 

She taught me boundaries.

If I can attribute my world of fostering to anyone it all goes to her. There is no way we could have created @ourhappyshack with out my one and only, Theresa.

No matter how many dogs we had here she accepted them all. Some more than others but I was never worried. She would set the tone of how much a dog needed or how fast we could integrate into the pack. She always knows exactly what their needs are. I just follow her lead and it works every time.

The dynamic of our pack has really been 3. We've always welcomed an "extra dog" and for a time we were 4. Lately we've been 4 again but the bond is really with our 3 "OG's" 

When Mandy came into our life we didn't know it was exactly what we needed. But we did. The 3 of them together has been the most magical thing. Although, I wouldnt say they are "bonded," there is definitely a bond that in our home - we need. It's all under the guidance of Theresa. When she's not around things aren't right. 

There is no one to gather the troops for squirrel patrol. There is no one to bark at stranger danger (aka any delivery person outside the gate) there is no one to scold puppies or bark ominously from the room at the whining house guest being crate trained. There's no one to keep fosters off the couch. 

It's just...not right. 

No matter who the extra dogs are that rotate around us. I have never pictured a life in our home without Theresa. 

I have often made another joke that my dogs have no choice but to live forever. That I love them so much they have no choice and they will without a doubt live forever because I simply can't function as a human adult without them. I know what a naive and immature expectation this is. But it is probably 99.9% true. I don't know what life is like anymore without dogs. Without MY dogs.

Me and my Theresa have literally grown up together. She's been here for me through my darkest times and never judged me for one second. We've celebrated, we've grieved, we've loved and we've grown.

I can't imagine my life without her but now I will have to figure out what life without her is. 

If you've stuck with me this far in this post I'm sorry to have to take an unexpected turn. But it was just as unexpected for us too. This is definitely one of the hardest things I've had to share but I feel like I won't be able to heal without sharing this way. 

On Thursday, December 19th, my Theresa unexpectedly passed away. 

I don't exactly know what happened in the few hours that it happened. It still feels foggy and I'm waiting for her to run back inside after barking at the ice cream truck. I can hear her pitter patter on the wood floors as she winds up to jump on the bed. I can still feel her warmth sleeping in the knook behind my knees, where she's slept every night we shared a bed together for the last 10 years.  

I don't really know what life is supposed to be like without her but I have to start figuring it out.

She was the kind of dog that would eat all your buttermilk biscuits but you couldn't be mad at her for it because you were so impressed by her technique. She was the kind of dog that you could cry for hours with and she wouldn't move an inch until you were ready. She was the kind of dog that knew lots of tricks but would only do them when she felt like it. She was the kind of dog that was wildly stubborn yet always listened when you needed her to. She was the kind of dog that you could take everywhere with you (until it was time to go home to lay on her couch. Then she would just whine at you until you went home.) She was the kind of dog that would only sit for pictures (in props...sort of) but only when she wanted. She was the kind of dog that would sit in the middle of a bunch of yelling kids and be 100% happy even though she didn't really engage with them. Just happy to be in the mix. 

She was perfectly imperfect and she was perfect for me. 

She had the softest ears that I could snug my face into for hours. 

She had the most perfect paws that had the most perfect smell that I could snug my face into for hours.

She had the best bum to scratch. 

She had the best little bounces when I got home. 

She had the biggest bark for squirrel patrol and always made me feel safe for stranger danger. 

She gave the best most softest kisses. 

She was the kind of dog that you only get once in your life because I feel like we're only gifted best dogs in the world only once in a lifetime.

The Theresa was definitly one of the best and I don't think there will ever be a day that I don't miss her. 

I love you forever T-dawg. I'm sorry you had to go too soon.