My Best Friend: Hache-Hi April 3, 1995 - April 22, 2007

My best friend of 12 years died Sunday morning while I was away in New York City. She did not deserve to go out the way that she did. She deserved much more in life than I was able to give her.

She was the perfect dog.

The day I got her at the breeders (she was the last one left and the runt of the litter) June 1, 1995 He put her in my arms like two people would exchange holding a baby and I thought at that very moment (as I had spent the better part of the late spring looking for) as she looked up into my eyes with those Big brown baby wolf eyes that held so much more intelligence than a dog’s eyes should, that;
“This is my Dog!”

I arrived back in Charlotte yesterday afternoon. As the plane touched down in Charlotte I thought; “I’m almost there Hache.”

I went home and immediately saw the trail where Ann Marie had dragged her on the blanket from the back of the house to the front as it is all carpeted and I had vacuumed just before leaving. I became so sad immediately.

In the early evening I drove to the Animal Hospital to see her one last time. They rolled her into a private room where she laid on top of a cart all rolled up in a blanket as if she was a person asleep. I did what I had always done as I had my mom on the phone in the presence of Hache. But instead of asking my mom to say hi to Hache, this time I asked her to say goodbye to her.

I then spent another 45 minutes with her alone. I took a few pictures. I held her paws. I kissed her face. I told her; “You know that I love you.” As if seeking forgiveness for having left her to die all alone.

I didn’t know how to say goodbye in the end. I kissed her for 20-30 seconds the longest I had ever kissed her and I thought that would be a great way to last touch her. I was called into the other room to sign some more papers and after a few minutes felt myself panicked that I needed to still say goodbye and as I approached the door I felt that I would open it and she would be already gone. But, as I opened it I found her right where I had left her. And I went about kissing her all over again and whispering the same words to reassure her and I that we had had a wonderful life together. And that she was the perfect dog for me and I was the perfect person for her.

As I kissed her one last time on her snout, I said my final words to her;

“You will always be my Dog.”

Which later on last night, when I could not sleep, reminded me so much of my thoughts when she was first put into my arms almost 12 years ago at the age of 9 weeks. And as I caressed the side of her face one last
time, I turned and walked out the door of the room. With the most overwhelming feeling of grief and sorrow that I will probably ever know, I left behind a part of me as I closed the door.

Sincerely,
Mark