You were the best dog a man could have had in life Shelby. It is about a year now since you died and left this planet.
But in my wanderings around this earth and specifically the Ridge there are not many places that do not remind me of you, my four-legged buddy and pal.
In so many ways it seems crazy to me to write a letter to you when you are dead . . . but I have done it with people. And sometimes I think, you may deserve more than some people.
I think of you so often. I am with a woman named Victoria now Shelby and you knew and met her. She helped me with you so much and has held me in my grief at losing you. What more can one ask of another being than that simple thing? To be present and witness the grief and joy of losing a fellow being?
At long last I had to move on because as you know so well the suffering had become too much for me to bear. You were witness to it and held my heart in your paws more than once and absorbed my tears into your beautiful soft furry head so many times. That is what friends do.
I hope I was there enough for you in life but especially in your final days. I had to leave when I did or I was going to die. So I left you in your final months with someone I trusted till someone returned home. I hope your suffering was as least as it could be. Forgive me if that is needed.
So many times, humans let their own pain, suffering and drama become the sole focus and are unable to be fully present in the lives, suffering AND the joy of those closest to them. I have been guilty of this. It is my strongest hope that your suffering was attended to and alleviated as much as possible in those final days of your long doggy life.
Whenever I am at the spring I remember the fun we had there . . . barking at each other, wrestling in the leaves, running through the water and then you would break for Shelby’s Spa, the best watering hole for you to roll around in and get muddy.
I always remember that Shelby and let it comfort me in my times of sadness and joy.
I remember too the many hours of you and I riding in Red Rover our truck. It seems to me that is the way it should be at times, a man and his dog, a dog and her man in a Red Truck, a white lab named Shelby with her human Man David . . . riding along through life, loving the doggieness, the humanness of our lives with your soft furry head on my lap and me rubbing your ears. I miss you.
Romp on Shelby . . . you made me a better human and a better man. Thank you for giving me the life we had together.
