Goodbye to Iris...

My black pug's name is Iris.  She was born in May 2001.  She likes belly rubs and French fries. She tolerates me putting her in various pink outfits and Halloween costumes.  She likes car rides.  She likes the ramps at the dog park.  She doesn't like big white dogs.  She has a brother.  His name is Jack.





When I get up Iris stays in bed.  She likes to lay on my pillow.  She snores.  She never wants to cuddle unless its bedtime.  When its time to sleep she lays in the crook of my arm.  When I tell her to get up she rolls on her back and shows me her belly.  I fuss at her to go outside.  She makes me pick her up and carry her whenever possible.  She wins every time.




When I leave for work I tell her to be good.  She doesn't move from her spot on the bed - Only her tail wiggles in acknowledgment.  When I come home from work, she and her brother come running, the curly tails wagging.  She is always happy to see me.  When my day is bad, she makes me smile.  I lovingly tell her she's "Mommy's Sweet Girl." 

My black pug's name was Iris.  She died May 2011.  It was fairly unexpected.  We buried her in the back yard.  Her brother sat next to me as I said my tearful goodbyes.  The heartache of owning a dog is in that moment where you have to say goodbye, whether you're ready to or not.  I'm heartbroken.  I miss her.  I wish she were still here. 
 
              
 

Will Rogers said it best: "If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."  This goes for me too.  There's a little girl named Iris I hope to see again someday.  Until then I would like to think she's playing with her friend, Korey, living on a diet of French fries, happily awaiting the day when her brother and I will be with her again.

 

Thank you Iris, for being this girl's best friend.