Becky had been with Summer for 10 years when Maggie and I Brady-bunched up with them. I am so lucky that I met Bec in time to spend 3 years with Summy, the most adorable dog I've ever met. Now I'm part of a club that's great in number but select in its bond: fulfilling the painful and emotionally-requisite contract of dog ownership. We will miss Summer so much. Our son, coming around the bend, will be subjected to incessant Summy-stories. Sorry, kiddo.
Here are some of the things we will tell him:
When we woke up in the morning, she would fetch a squeaky toy, hop on our bed and then make the toy squeak
Her ears smelled like brownie batter
She'd kick her leg when you found the right belly spot
Going up the stairs she looked like a lamb
Her inquisitive head tilt
Her single, irrepressible doorbell yelp
Great company in the car
She followed us everywhere in the apartment, and if we were at two ends of the apartment, she'd lie down in the middle
She ate a whole vole, whole.
After a bath, she's run around the apartment, rubbing against ever piece of furniture and rug she could get to.
She took off into a lake after some ducks, and swam out 50 yards before I freaked out, undressed and swam out to get her (it was cold and rainy). When I got to her and lifted her out of the water, she continued air-swimming.
She was the Ring Bearer at our wedding.
When she farted, it startled her, and she would run away from it.
No tail. Wigglebutt.
Her bouncy ears when she walked
She would spin around when her dinner was being prepared.
She'd poke her head into the bathroom if one of us was in there.
We called her Noodgie, Noodgers, Shloopie, Shlampy, Chomps, Chompers, Summy, Sumsum, Summybear, Monsterbear, Munchkinbear, and Wiggles. And Summer, of course.
We love you, Summy, and always will.