Ginger Rodgers
We found you on a dark, stormy, rain-soaked night in the middle of the city.
The streets were slick, the headlights were cutting through the rain, and then suddenly there you were, running right out in front of the car like you had been sent there for us to find. I jumped out without thinking and scooped you up, and that was it. There was no discussion, no hesitation, no question about what came next.
You were coming home.
You were already about a year old when we found you, already fully yourself, already Chicago. And somehow, from that first night, it felt like you had always belonged to us and we had just been late in realizing it.
You were the most beautiful dog I have ever seen. People say that about their dogs because they love them, but with you, it was simply true. You knew it, too. You carried yourself like a lady, folding your paws so perfectly, sitting like you were posing for a portrait. You had elegance, attitude, sweetness, and just enough drama to make sure nobody forgot who the star of the house was.
You tap danced into rooms. You DJ’d the soundtrack of our years. Your tail told the truth before anything else could. It was like your heartbeat lived in it, always wagging, always full of joy, always reminding us that happiness could still exist in the middle of ordinary days.
You demanded table food, and you got it, because honestly, what kind of monster says no to those eyes? French fries were basically your property. We were all just holding them temporarily. The ladies’ dinners will never feel the same without you under the table, waiting patiently and confidently for what you knew was yours. That empty space at our feet is going to feel louder than anything for a long time.
You loved your brother in a way I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to fully understand. You waited up for me every night. You made sure the house was locked down before you let yourself rest. You protected us, watched over us, and cared for us in quiet ways we probably didn’t even notice enough while you were here.
And I need you to know something.
I loved you.
I know some people may have thought I didn’t show it enough. I won’t mention names, because apparently even grief has to have manners. But I loved you with all of my heart. I always tried to make sure you had what you needed. I hope you felt that. I hope you knew that even on the quiet days, even when I didn’t say it out loud, you mattered deeply to me.
You were Keesi’s BFF. You loved Gabby fiercely and protected her with everything you had. For that, I owe you more than I could ever repay. Not with treats, not with stuffed animals, not with every french fry in the world. You gave us love that was loyal, instinctive, and pure.
Find Stitch. Find Arnold. Tell them I said hi, and tell them I miss them too.
And find my Lilo.
You would have loved her. I think you reminded me of her more than I ever said out loud. Maybe some part of me always believed she was waiting for you, and now I hope the two of you are together, running free, young again, safe again, whole again.
Thank you for coming into the road that night.
Thank you for trusting me when I scooped you up.
Thank you for becoming ours.
I love you, Chicago.
Mom