I was in 6th grade when my parents brought her home. Erin & I were walking home from school on a random afternoon, I guess it must have been late January. All I remember is that it was sunny, as most significant days in my life have been. We both walked in the door, and upon stepping foot into our childhood home, a little bundle of black joy came walloping up to us. You cannot imagine the immense joy of being surprised with a puppy - no comparison. I'd be surprised if I'm happier on my wedding day. The dog that we had from the time I was born, McGee, had passed away shortly before we left Vermont for Boise, and since we had never lived without a dog before, there was a definite void in all of our lives. My parents had been talking about getting a puppy for a while, but nothing had been for certain, except of course, for her name. My family (and consequently myself) have a habit of deciding the breed, gender and name of a dog months (or even years) before we actually acquire the new pet.
Indie was no exception. She had been planned for a while - she would be a black lab and her name would be India Ink, the blackest substance in the world, but for short, she would be Indie. (Alternative explanations that my dad sometimes substituted to strangers: "Like in Indiana Jones, 'We named the dog Indie'!" or "For Indy 500, like the race".) Her official name on her AKC registry was Roberts Miss India Ink. (We wanted to incorporate the name "miss" in her full name, since her breeder had referred to her as "Miss Priss" before we took her home.) She was ours on paper, and would quickly find a way into our hearts.
Her little puppy tummy fat was so big, she could barely make it up the stairs. On multiple occasions, in an attempt to get onto our backyard porch, she jumped, hit her little flab on the wood and bounced back. It was hysterical. One of my favorite pictures of her - and I think the only picture of her as a puppy - is of her sitting on this very porch, tummy pooch and all. I will always cherish that photo. I wish I had it to include in this, but this was before the age of digital photographs, and it resides in a box somewhere at my house.
When she was really small, I remember running around our living room, her following me closely, then sitting down abruptly, which would always result in her jumping - not very gracefully - into my lap. I thought it was the cutest thing - and it WAS the cutest thing. I also remember my mom driving us to school in our old van, and Indie jumping up & pawing the window when we were walking away, and all of my friends cooing over her. She was mine.
Then when she got a bit older, I embraced my newfound love for running and took her on loops around the neighborhood to stay in shape for soccer. She was my running buddy all through middle school and high school, and on weekends home from college. I loved running with her - she never seemed to get tired, and I got tired really fast. She was so happy when we were running. As soon as I laced up my tennis shoes she knew what was coming, and would start wagging her big otter tale and wiggle. She was such a wiggler. She didn't just wag her tale, she wiggled her whole backside. It was so endearing.
When I was 13, my beloved cat Magic (and to this day the only cat I will really, truly love) passed away and the presence of her happiness and unconditional love helped me through that so much. There really is no replacement for the love of an animal after you've lost a beloved pet. I will never only own one dog for this reason. I remember in 8th grade, a friend of mine had done something unfair to me, and I was so upset. The only person I felt comfortable talking to was her - she jumped up on my bed as she always did, I laid my head on her, and just cried. She was such a good listener.
She ended up sleeping on my bed almost every night, which most people would probably think was pretty uncomfortable considering she was about 85 pounds and no small animal. She usually took up about half my bed - or more - but I loved it. She would come in every night & jump up, or curl up on the floor next to me. She was always there - and I knew that she would always protect me. She was so protective in fact that sometimes if we were roughhousing with friends or getting piggy back rides from guys, she would nip at our heels and try to save us. I knew that she would never let anything happen to me.
I am to this day convinced she thought she was a human. If she ever could comprehend her reflection, I don't think she would have believed it. She always wanted to be with us, and always wanted to eat our food. She was so tall she could just jump up and grab things off the counter. We came home countless times to scraps of plastic from entire loaves of bread. I remember once I told my friend to come over and eat with us because we had half a pizza left over from dinner, and by the time he walked in the door, she had consumed it all. Of course this drove us crazy while she was around, but after she was gone, it almost seemed like a void to not have to push things to the back of the counter so she couldn't get them. I missed having to worry about it because I missed her so deeply.
About a year and a half before she passed away, she tore her achilles heal & had to get surgery. She got a teal cast (completely by chance, but it was my favorite color. I bought her a blinged out teal collar, that I still have, and was made fun of mercilessly for it, but I loved it and she was mine, so who cared?) She had to stay in this kennel at all times, so she didn't aggravate the injury. It broke my heart - a dog that loved being so active and surrounded by her family, stuck in an 8x4 kennel for 6 weeks. One night I set out a blanket and a pillow and slept next to her on the living room floor because I didn't want her to be alone. I also crawled in with her on a couple occasions. I loved her so much.
Then, a couple weeks after I graduated college, my parents told me that she had an advanced form of bone cancer, and that her prognosis was unknown. I threw my arms around her and just cried. We didn't know how much time she had left, but I knew that it was by design that I ended up moving home. I had a feeling that she was not long for this world before my parents had given me the news, and I wanted to spend every moment I could with her while she was still here. We took her to my grandpas house, her favorite, where she had gotten lost for 2 days as a puppy (which really meant she had freeloaded off a neighbor for a night) and where she had been stepped on by a cow (and was thus afraid of them). I had a feeling it would be the last time she would be there.
I will never forget the first time Indie met Maddie. This little 4 pound corgi puppy didn't even think twice before walking underneath what must have been a behemoth monster to her - and Indie looked so offended. They ended up being quite close, even though I'm sure that Maddie annoyed the crap out of Indie. I think they really loved each other. This picture was taken on a roadtrip down to California in August of 2009. We ended up having to bring the dogs with us, although I don't remember why at the moment, but it ended up being one of the best decisions we've ever made.
This is one of the last pictures I ever took of her. I adore it. But she was so sick. We knew that she would let us know when it was time, and she did. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but I knew she was in pain, and I knew she would be going to a better place despite how much I would miss her. We put her down when were in California. That was about a year and a half ago. And I still miss her so intensely, but I know I will see her again. I have this wonderful view of heaven someday when it's my time to go - I will arrive there and be greeted by the wet kisses and soft purs of my favorite pets. And let me tell you, that thought comforts me every time I really start to miss her.
I will always miss Indie, my puppy and I will always love her. Happy Birthday Indie, I hope you are enjoying the biggest beef bone ever up there.
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