The thing about pets is that eventually they die, and it's super sad. Gypsy went to doggy heaven on
Friday at the age of 19.
She was a great dog. We got her when I was in grade 2, and she was my mum's 40th birthday present. She came from a horse farm near the cottage where they also bred Jack Russells. I remember being super excited to tell my classmates that I was getting a dog. Gypsy slept with me in bed almost every night until I went away for university. She loved burrowing under the covers down to the end of the bed, She looked good in red. She didn't love all dogs, but she was BFFs with the yellow lab across the street until he died. She hated swimming, but would jump in the lake if ducks swam by. And if you shouted "seagulls!!!" she'd run down to the end of the dock and bark at them until they flew away. Once the dock was wet and she slipped right off the edge. It was hilarious. She liked canoe rides. She was a super fast runner, and loved peeling the fuzzy skin off of tennis balls. She let me dress her up in my baby clothes and take pictures of her. She enjoyed rolling in dead fish and chasing squirrels (red ones in particular). When my brother was little he would sometimes play chess with her as his opponent. I spoiled her by feeding her bits of my dinner at the table. She loved having her tummy rubbed and shoulders massaged.
I'll miss her. ♥