This photo was taken in 2003, when she was just a few years old. We had so many adventures over the years; I don’t know how much less I might have lived, how much more closed I’d have been, had I not taken her home from the veterinary hospital where I worked. It was 2001, and she’d been found, hairless and bruised and infected with mange and scabies and worms, in Bayou St. John; they dropped her with us, but she was nearly feral. In taking care of her, I bonded with her and took her home over the reasonable objections of many there, who’d noted how damaged and neurotic she was.
Tonight, Abby and I pressed our wet faces to her head as a doctor euthanized Bayou. She was 13 years old, dying from a bleeding belly tumor, too weak to move anything but her eyes. She was always so tough and sweet, always my close companion. These past years in San Francisco were a dream for her, and I guess I’ll try to hang on to that now that she’s gone.
Here are some photos of her being wonderful. Aren’t some of those fun? We were so much younger, and Louisiana was so green. And here are all the times I posted about her. I don’t care about these words in the slightest; for some reason, I just want to share her with you, show you photos of how she played and ran. She was here, with me, for the happiest years of my life.