Run, Eppie, Run

Tuesday morning we said goodbye to our dear family member of 15 years. It would have been hard to receive a phone call saying that Eppie had passed on, but being there and seeing the pain in her eyes and the way that she couldn't lift her head, her labored breathing and the spasms in her chest was nearly unbearable. As we sat by her and patted her head, she seemed comforted and would close her eyes.

Saying goodbye brought back memories of the previous years. Sticks and rocks and evening runs. Eppie never did anything bad. Loving people was her only fault as she would disappear down to the park during the summer to hang out with campers who entertained her with an endless supply of objects to fetch and, of course, the occasional hot dog or two.

The last several years she slowed down, but not by choice. When I'd turn down the road to go on a run she would look on with longing eyes and sometimes even make an effort to get her aching joints to move. She never made it past the end of the driveway. Now she was going somewhere way beyond the driveway. Before she left, as I said my final goodbye, I found a thought that brought me comfort and I shared it with her, "Eppie, you're going to be able to run again. Run fast. Run. Run. Run."

Thanks for all the wonderful memories. We miss you!