This has taken me a long time to be able to post. As many of you know, I lost my beautiful girl Louana on March 27th, 2023. I had 6 wonderful years with her.
Here is my tribute to her.
My beautiful girl was born on Halloween. She was the pick of the litter. Her fur looked like black velvet! She was my Christmas present. I named her Louana- which was supposed to mean JOY. My middle name is Louanne so I felt like it was meant to be. From the minute I brought her home, she was pure joy bottled up. She was mine and mine alone. I can’t describe how it felt to open the door and have her body hurtling at me. I never minded, even when she was knocking me over.
She was such a special dog. She was the smartest dog I have ever had and also the naughtiest. I loved that part of her so much! She was known to get on the counters, eat our dinner when we turned our heads, open doors, drink out of the toilet, hang on my door wreaths with her teeth until I let her in. She slept in a crate beside the bed. Halfway through the night, she would howl scratch until we let her out. She would get in bed with me and often take my pillow. One of my most treasured videos is one of her jumping out of the expensive wooden fence we built for her and running to my car as I came home.
Her favorite thing was chasing sticks and balls. She would never stop. If you ignored her, then she would keep putting them on you until you had no choice but to move them– which in Louana’s world meant that you were playing. One of my clients even brought a tennis racket and balls to entertain her while his child rode horses. My father has heavy equipment, and she would even put balls or sticks in his cab while he was working! If I was getting feed from the freezer, she would drop the ball into the feed to make sure I threw it.
When I began doing therapy at my home, Louana was right there. She loved people. If I made her stay in the house, she would stand on my dinner table and watch. I had to sneak outside if I didn’t want her coming. She watched the shoes I put on. If they were “nice” shoes, she stayed on the couch. If they were barn shoes, she would knock me over to get out the door. If kids came to the barn that were shy, Louana would cause them to relax and open up. Sometimes I even had to keep Louana in the house because they liked her more than the horses. No one could tell her no.
When I got cancer, she was always with me on the couch when it hurt to move, when I couldn’t eat, when I cried because life isn't fair. She reminded me to get up and move– to keep on living.
Her death made no sense and had no purpose that I could determine. The specialists could never figure out what caused her to get so sick. She tried so hard to stay with me and the doctors tried their best. It made no difference. I cried and pleaded with God to save her-- but the answer was no. I was with her at the end, kissing her and telling her I would see her again. She tried to wag her tail as she left me. I asked God to throw balls with her until I got there.
As some time has passed, I am able to write and talk about her without crying (at least a lot). Here are some of the things I learned from her.
1)Take the time to throw the ball. She usually would drop balls in the feed barrels or wheelbarrows, so I didn’t have a choice. She would remind me to stop and play. I would always try to throw it a few times. I would give anything for the chance to throw them again.
2)How it feels to be loved purely; I believe God gives us animals to get a glimpse of the love He has for us. When she looked at me, I saw how it felt to be loved and the love I wanted to give others. She was quick to forget and forgive when I let her down.
3) Seize the day. Every day she woke up excited to see what the day would bring. She approached life with such exuberance. We only get so many days on earth- why waste a single one? We never get this day, this particular moment again.
4) What we do matters. She was a dog– yet she impacted so many lives. My family, kids who came to my home, my father, my daughters, my granddaughter, family members of clients, co-workers, my workers. Her life left an impact and a hole that cannot be filled. If a small, black lab can leave an impact, then so can I.
Until we meet again, I'll hold you close in my heart.
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