Hersh
June 19, 2008 - March 31, 2022
In the spring of 2020, at nearly twelve years old, you found yourself in the care of the Winnipeg Humane Society. With the early months of the pandemic being a highly competitive time for pet adoptions, and as number five in a queue of folks interested to meet you, I assumed a beautiful girl like you would be snatched up immediately, but then one Sunday afternoon the call came: would I like to meet Hershey? Two days later you would be living with me.
You were a sweetheart from the very start, but adjusting to your new home was a difficult transition for you. Your anxiety revealed itself immediately and posed some challenges, but as we fell into our quiet, constant rhythm, your uneasiness retreated and in time, our success would be measured by your calm sentry at the door when I stepped away, and the gentle snoring that accompanied a deep and blissful doggie snooze. Music to my ears.
I quickly fell in love with all things Hersh: Your perfectly centred curtain bangs framing those sweet brown eyes. Your funny little wiggle-bum that told me how happy you were to see me when I walked through the door. The low-register woof you would emit when you saw a dog that you wanted to meet (and by "meet" I mean "sniff"). Your soccer goalie skills that revealed surprising speed and agility for a chubby senior doggo. Your constant companionship - wherever I went, you flopped down beside me. The way you would wake me in the middle of the night by standing near my head and making a muffled sound we called "snorfeling" until I fluttered awake to do your bidding. Your weird preoccupation with citrus fruit, specifically Mandarin oranges (something I assume you were allowed to eat in your former home?). You also seemed to have more than a passing familiarity with the concept of pizza delivery. I loved our bedtime ritual of tucking you in with Fuzzy Bone and SpongeBob, followed by a gentle massage as we recapped the highlights of your day, always ending with kisses and wishes for sweet dreams of pork chops and sausage links. Singing your theme song: "Hersh is down to clown (when you wanna party)," and how you appeared to listen intently to everything I said even though you were profoundly deaf. You were an amazing walking buddy and we covered a lot of ground, meeting so many people and pooches along the way. With my contacts and your charm, we raised a whack of money for the 2020 Paws in Motion event and you were featured as a "WHS Hero" on their social media platforms. You always let me hug you as often and as long as I wanted. There are so many more things - all seemingly small, but meaning so much.
In September, we learned that you had an aggressive and untreatable oral melanoma. While your appetite and energy diminished incrementally, you still remained my adoring, happy-go-lucky girl for six months more. Recently, it became clear that our time was running out. Your decline was accelerating and I knew what needed to be done before your suffering became intolerable and your dignity slipped away. For days in advance, I would sit near your bed and recount our story, however brief, and what I believed your next story would be. I knew that for such a perfect and loyal girl, only amazing things awaited you beyond this world. On March 31, resting on your pillow and blanket that Auntie Colleen made for you, and with Fuzzy Bone and SpongeBob nestled close, you peacefully slipped away.
Our time together was far too short, but I thank you for every moment, Hersh. Even the tough ones. I will always be grateful for our time together and for your incredible sweetness and friendship. I am broken hearted that you are no longer here with me, but take comfort in knowing that you are renewed and running free and that we will be reunited one day. I love you, my angel girl.
Laurel
