Goodbye old friend...

He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion. –anonymous

Our loyal and steadfast friend, Oliver McGee, has passed on. It has been a rough few days for us. There is a quiet emptiness around the house. I can't believe he's really gone. I keep expecting to hear the jingling of his tags on his collar as he runs into the room to greet me. It will be so hard when I take a walk for the first time without him. Everywhere I look, there is a reminder of him. I have shed more tears in the past few days than I thought my body was capable of producing. The thing about grief is it comes in waves. Just when you are starting to feel better, a memory brings it all flooding back in.

It is hard to imagine a time when Oliver wasn’t in my life. It seems he has been with me for all the important events. He was there when I graduated from college and got my first apartment. He was there when I was stressed about getting my first job, offering his quiet support. He has been with me through different relationships and friendships. He was with me when I bought my first house, when I got married (he was even part of Dayven's proposal), when we moved to Nashville and when we brought Wyatt home. Whether the occasion was tear-filled or joyous, Oliver was right by my side to experience it all with me.

There are so many silly things I will remember and miss about “Ollie man”. He was such a closet pooper. He was infamous for pooping in people’s basements on the sly. While we were on a walk, he had this uncanny ability to wait until we were in front of someone and poop right in the middle of the sidewalk. What did that guy have against grass anyway? He loved the snow and would stare out the window longingly at the first sign of snowfall. When I let him out, he would race around the yard, and roll around, making snow angels. He was always running off to have adventures – like the time the owners of Greystone Farms found him in the pen with their horses drinking out of the water trough. He loved to ride in the car so we took him everywhere, even if it meant he had to sit in the parking lot and wait for us to return. When Dayven made burgers on the grill, he would make a tiny cheeseburger for Ollie. I used to save the last bite of my sandwich for him. He loved to roll around in the front yard, rubbing his body in the grass as if trying to scratch an itch. He would sit on our deck for hours just staring off in the distance, as if pondering the meaning of life.

But mostly, I will remember what an amazingly loyal companion and confidante he was. He had the sweetest disposition and was a friend to all who met him. There will never be another dog like him.

Goodbye old friend. Until we meet again…