Good Girl

Hey Dear Family,

This is my last full day in Revda. Sunday was nice, had our regular third Sunday visitors from Yekat and a nice meeting. The members even decided to sing “Until we meet again” as the closing hymn of 2nd hour. Which was funny, because for half a second I considered picking it for the closing hymn of sacrament meeting. I’m excited for Zone Leader Council, mostly for a balanced meal provided by Sister Allen, and for an opportunity to discuss the mission and be around so many good friends and missionaries. My time was sacred here and I’ll always look back to it with fondness and gratitude. All sounds nice at home, even with all the changes, here’s the letter I wrote Berkeley this week:

I felt a disturbance in the force when Puppy died. I feel bad for the time I hit her in the face with a shovel. I was swinging it in a circle at full speed (just for fun with gravity) when she as a little puppy ran up to "play" with it and it more than smacked her in the muzzle before I could stop its momentum. She kind of looked dazed for a few seconds, like when she sneezes, then continued to bound towards me only tipsy now, and she may have fallen over on the way. Sometimes I worried that this was the cause of a lot of her specialness.
Do all dogs really go to heaven? Remember how Dad said Mia was not filling the measure of her creation as a cat? I'd be a lot more ok with Mia roasting in hell than Puppy, because Mia lived her whole life like she was enduring hellfire, the way she sat and starred with her EYES, always glaring never doing. Puppy would just run around not knowing what to do and maybe cling to the floor. Heat rises so that might be one the smarter things she's ever done. Good girl. Did she live to be 10? Maybe even more. Good for her. That’s like 70 in dog years isn't it? And like 200 considering her physical condition at any time in her life.
She’s probably living it up in fat dog’s heaven right now. Well actually, she’s probably been lead into a nice heaven-corner for snapping at cherubims who wanted to pet her. Good girl. I still laugh to myself about the time Brian Kershisnik who, after petting her for a while asked if he could adjust her collar because it was a little tight on her. I told him to give it a try and Puppy, who was lying on her back, promptly chomped him on the meaty part of his hand between the thumb and pointer finger. He looked to me in surprise and I just shrugged my shoulders in ignorance of this event in the Puppy Mystery. Puppy wasn’t very good at recognizing her friends, or not biting the people who were likely to give her the most sympathy. How many “last walks” did we take her around the block before giving in and promising to take more care of her.
She was a pretty dog, in my opinion. She had a grace about her. And it wasn’t just the shiny coat provided by her bacon grease-supplemented diet. To her credit she never hesitated to eat chocolate and always hesitated to eat anything green or nutritious. Except grass, she loved grass. But that was just to impress you, ‘cause she would do the same thing with snow. I think she thought if she showed you how good an eater she was, you would feed her more. So she ate whatever was in the backyard whether it be grass, snow or stuffed animals thrown over to her from the neighbor kids in hopes to quell her wrath. To no effect though, as she barked every time regardless if it was a person, group of kids, car, airplane or satellite. Good girl.
I’ve already been missing her slightly throughout my mission, wondering if she’d be alive when I get back, and it’s a relief to know for a surety now that she won’t. Although I say that in the same way a Dear John’ed Elder claims it to be true for his “It’s not like she was ‘waiting’ for me” self assuring way.
I don’t know if I can break the news to Elder Jensen, he loved Puppy so much. Puppy stories are what got him through the MTC. Puppy's mere existence brought him joy. I think that can be true for everyone now, minus the smells her existence caused. She was such a dog.

I’m thankful for her.

Farwell, sweet nemesis of mind and battle...

-Rob