When it's time for goodbye. This is probably actually not my blog to write, but Jessica's. But I'll do it anyway.
If any of you are dog people like we are, you will understand this blog. It's for the little pitbull that could, and Jessica's best friend Honey.
Pits and other bully breeds are often "throwaway" dogs and usually suffer a fate that they don't deserve at the hands of humans. For years, both Jessica and myself have loved and owned "difficult" and "dominant" breeds because the very things that other people misunderstand about them, are the things that we love the most. The loyalty without bounds, the intense spirit, the need to protect the people and things that they love. Something that we can both relate to. The biggest scapegoat of any of these breeds is the pit or amstaff. If any of you have owned one of these breeds or even a mix of them, you know that there is nothing quite like the love that they can give. Honey was the embodiment of those qualities, packaged into a pocket sized bundle of love that often forgot exactly how small she was.
Jess got Honey from a less than ideal situation when she was just a tiny pup. I was the first person to get to visit her, when Jess tucked her into her pocket and brought her to the pet store that I used to work at. This was the first of many visits to the store to see Auntie Donna and get holistic food and treats in an effort to make up for the disadvantages that the little girl had suffered in the first few weeks of her life. It didn't matter how long had passed since I had last seen her, Jess would only have to tell Honey to "find Auntie Donna" and soon I would have 30 lbs of little pit barrelling towards me from whatever end of the store she happened to be at. Whether I was in the fish room, or in the back that little dog never failed to find where I was. Usually dressed in some ridiculous outfit, I can still see her running full speed ahead with her little bat ears at attention, smiling the trademark pitbull smile.
If I came to visit, Honey was all teeth, barking ferociously and trying to be 30 lbs of pure terror. Until of course I made it in the door, and she would launch herself at me doing the best she could to try and crawl inside my pocket. Because that's what she was, a pocket pitbull that couldn't get enough love and attention and was always ready for more. A few weekends ago, Jess and I went to go pick up her new car and Honey rode back with me to my house. She was my co-pilot in the passenger seat, sitting quietly just happy to be going for a car ride. It didn't take much to make her happy, and riding in the car and getting an ear massage was enough to be a small piece of puppy heaven.
Honey was never well, despite Jess' best efforts to make her so. She never grew to full size, and from blood parasites to a heart murmur life did not hand her a good deal. But you would never guess it to look at her. She was best friend to Jess' daughter and to Jess. She gamely tried everything asked of her, and while it may not have worked right in the physical sense that little dog had a heart so big this world couldn't contain it.
After days of mysterious seizures, friday Honey's story came to a close. Jess came home to find her seizing yet again and unresponsive. We rushed her to the emergency vet, but it was clear that there was no hope. It was time to do the hardest thing that we have to do for the animals we love so much and give them a dignified death. We said our goodbyes to Honey on a little couch in the emergency vet's office. But Honey wasn't there anymore. She was there enough to say goodbye, and there because that is what her breed is made of. Loyalty. She could not leave, until she knew that it was okay. She kept holding on, as long as Jess did. But for the most part, the little dog that could had already gone. Jess and I, along with one of her other friends gave Honey all the love we could while the vet gave the injection that would finally give peace to a puppy that never had a fair chance to begin with. Though she was not my furkid, it broke my heart just the same but there was no other place I'd rather be. I saw the start of the story of Honey and Jess, and I am honored to have been there for the end as well. Her heart got tired as they all do, but once again, what a fucking heart it was. At approximately 8:25 pm Friday night, it beat it's last. She was only 2 years old.
Having gone through a loss like this myself not so long ago, I know how much it hurts. And if I could make it go away, or take it back, I would in a second. But this is the best I can do. Some words for a little bat eared pitbull that gave more love in two years than some people can give in a lifetime, and for the girl that loved her just as much back. Because you can't throw away a life just because it's less than perfect. You love them by the minute, because you never know how many you will get.

RIP Honey
Safe trip babydog, safe trip
Auntie Donna