The morning of April 23, 2020 I lost my best friend of 11 years. Ginger crossed the rainbow bridge and my soul followed her.
I raised Ginger from when she was a puppy. She was your typical puppy – bouncy, destructive, needy. Then she grew into this beautiful dog that everyone admired yet feared at the same time. She was larger than usual but she didn’t know her size. I remember when I came home from the hospital, the first thing she did was sit on my lap so I wouldn’t go anywhere and leave her for 7 days.
I never left since because the look on her face when I came back broke my heart.
Ginger was my protector. No one could get within 6′ of me…not when she was around. She also protected the kids. It was like she knew her job was to keep us safe. She stopped someone from carjacking me. I was indebted to her ever since and I spent the rest of her life making it up to her. Though I knew that what I could do for could never amount to what she had done for me.
She loved going on walks – especially long ones. We would take her with us to the canals and walk along the tow path. She even got in the river for laughs and even though she hated baths and the rain, rivers and lakes and creeks were her jam. Jeremy would take her for 10 mile walks and not once did she complain. She came home exhausted, yet happy. I taught her how to run alongside Camden while she rode her bike. She didn’t care what we did as long as she was a part of it.
Ginger was always done for a game of fetch. I bought a Chuck-it for her and that thing was a Godsend. We would play for hours and she was barely exhausted.
Her love was unconditional. She would wait for me by the door when I would go to the store. She patiently waited for us to get home from work and understood that we would be gone for a long time but she always greeted us, happy and relieved. Her love for my children was unmatched by anything else. They were her kids, too. When I would have a bad day, she would lie down next to me as if to let me know that everything would be okay because we were together.
She got older and the walks became shorter but she always loved going on them even though her joints ached. Her muzzle turned gray and her eyes looked like she’s had a lifetime of knowledge behind them. Though she just wanted to sleep all day, she never missed a beat in greeting us at the door when we came home.
She put up with Carter as much as she could. He looked up to her and was obsessed with playing with her but she was just never in the mood. Nonetheless, she tolerated his bouncy attitude. That’s how much patience she had.
Then the day finally arrived. She couldn’t walk up the stairs anymore and we knew it was time. I finally accepted that she was no longer the dog she was before. The night of April 23rd, she went to sleep and never woke up.
I loved her and I still love her. I miss her so much and it’s lonely here in the house without her. She hung on long enough for me to find another dog who will protect me and love me like she did.
It’s come to a point where I should just act like I’m going to work, take a shower first thing in the AM, and put on different clothes every day.
Is this a sign of cabin fever?
I hope the pics tell you what I’ve been doing to keep myself from going insane. Jeremy still has to go to work because he’s an essential employee. The kids are with their grandparents and they’ve been doing a good job at self-isolation.
And I also bought this:
They want me to wear a mask, then I’m going to wear a mask.
As you can see, I’ve been sort of busy. We have no idea when this stay at home order is going to expire. Might as well make the most of it.