The call was early. 7am on a Sunday. Sometimes mom forgets I'm on the west coast now. But I was awake and on my way to a race.
The day was calm, cool and sunny -- perfect weather for racing up a mountain. I was excited to try out the new bike, to bury myself up the climb, to hear Aspen cheer me on at the top, and to know I gave it my all at the finish. I love a good, hard race.
Once I heard the news, all I wanted more than anything in the world was to hug my puppy. My 13 year old, sweet, soft-as-can be puppy. The one thing that could make me feel better, I can no longer have.
Tears rolled for half the warm up. I held them back for the start. Perhaps a hard climb could clear the mind. And hard it was... there was no delay in setting a hard pace... even with almost 20 miles of climbing ahead... and 40 more miles to follow. It wasn't long before our big group became a small group.
And the mind wandered -- to my best running buddy ever. Shiloh would know it was play time as soon as I started to think about going for a run. It was hard to get my shoes on with a 50 pound lab jumping in my lap ready to go. Then there were days I couldn't take her running... I had to close the door on sad puppy eyes and see her sit in the window wishing she could be outside. But, she was forgiving and stood ready to kiss the sweat off when I came home. She never held a grudge. Even when I left for school and beyond and would stay away for months at a time... she was still my best friend when I returned home. You really can't get a better welcome home than a Shiloh greeting.
The race was not for me today. Breathing becomes a challenge when your chest wells up with emotions. I kind of knew at the start that it would be hard to put my focus into racing... but I would second guess myself if I didn't try. It was a beautiful ride for reminiscing though.
Shiloh was the puppy I always wanted. We had a dog when I was young, but I never got to raise her. Or teach her tricks. Shiloh was my puppy. I picked her out when I was in high school. I taught her how to shake, rollover, and even recycle. She loved the biscuit guessing game and could usually tell you which hand the biscuit was in. She didn't love the balance the biscuit on the nose game, but she would put up with it for the tasty reward she got when I said "ok" and she flicked her nose to catch the biscuit in the air. She was a smart girl.
It was good to be outside... pedaling smoothly up the meandering road, covered with the dancing shadows of trees above. Wispy clouds moving along the horizon. A big dose of sunshine spreading down rays.
I love soft things. Always have since I was little. Soft covers, soft pajamas, soft stuffed animals. Soft puppies! Shiloh was a soft puppy for sure. Most labs grow out of their puppy fur. Shiloh didn't. She remained puppy soft throughout her life. She may have gotten softer with old age. Maybe from all the pets.
Tears started rolling as I climbed away.
I knew her time was close. I thought I had at least one more visit... one more shiloh greeting... one more shiloh hug. She had a good life. She was loved... maybe as much as she gave back. Shiloh was ready. I don't need to cry for her. Most of my tears are selfish tears... sad that I can't go home and give my Shiloh one more hug.
I was no longer racing to the finish, or the top for that matter. Just racing to somewhere near the top to find Aspen so I could get an Aspen hug. It would have to do.
The tears will stop. The good memories will replace them. And I will always carry a big hug for Shiloh in my heart.
