Friday afternoon, my childhood dog, Ginger, died.
She was 15 years old and was very much a HUGE part of our family.
As usual, the pure, innocent logic of a child
seems fitting in a situation like this.
I stumbled across this article a few months ago
and it now seems so appropriate.
And boy, did Ginger know how to love.
She was known as the "neighborhood dog"
as every walker/runner/biker would stop to visit her throughout the day.
So many of my childhood memories involve her
and I feel so lucky to have had her in my life.
It's definitely been a tough weekend,
and I'm sure it will be a long time before I get used to
not seeing her sitting under the tree at my mom's house.
She truly was the best dog.
And was so perfect for our family,
and all the changes it endured.
we love you and miss you.
Thank you for the years of memories,
smiles and laughter
we've gained because of you.
You taught us how to enjoy the simple things in life
and love each other unconditionally.
I know that you are now running free,
eating ice cream and ham bones,
laying on clean, fluffy carpet
greeting all the walkers/runners/bikers in Heaven.
In Memory of Ginger.
August 28, 1998 - February 15, 2013
P.S. Thanks for all the love and support after Friday's post.