Shadow

Five years ago this weekend I lost my best friend.

Shadow was my first dog, and, he was my heart dog. We went everywhere together, and, over our almost 12 years together he taught me more about loyalty and love and acceptance and humor and life than I ever thought possible. Mostly, he showed me I could open my heart again to love, despite my having vowed never to be that vulnerable again. He also taught me how to survive the prolonged illness, and loss, of the most important being in your life—a lesson I’ve had to lean on a lot this past year after losing my other best friend, my mom, last October.

My mom and dad both thought of Shadow as their boy too, and, they were as devastated at losing him as I was. Back in 2002, when Mascha and Shadow and I moved back to our homeland, Holland, (for what turned out to be only a year, but, could have been permanent), my parents drove with us to LAX. We said our goodbyes and see-you-soons, with dry eyes(!!!), but, when dad went to say goodbye to Shadow, his tears started rolling. I can’t stand to see grown men cry, so, there I went, and pretty soon we were all bawling in the middle of LAX. We still love teasing my dad about how he wasn’t all that sad about seeing US go, but, when it came to Shadow…

Shadow, with my niece, Carolyn, in Charleston, SC, summer of 2001. Shadow, Mascha and I drove across country from San Diego, CA, to Charleston, SC, then up to Chicago, and back to California following Route 66 all the way. In Los Angeles we rewarded his excellent travelling behavior with a hamburger from In-n-Out. He ate the entire thing in one bite.

Shadow, playing in the snow in the mountains, about 10 miles from where he was born in Pine Valley, CA—an hour's drive from San Diego. Winter, 2001. He loved chasing snowballs and then running to where they crashed and digging down to the dirt trying to find where they went.

Rest in Peace, my sweet boy Shadow. You gave me everything I could have ever hoped for in a best friend, and so much more.