I’m writing today with sad news. Yesterday we said goodbye to our beloved schnoodle Vallie; our furry family member of 16 ½ years. Vallie was kind, playful, gentle, loyal, spunky, and beyond sweet. She was really all you could ask for in a dog.

Vallie came to us on a leap year in February 2008. We had wanted to adopt a dog, but all of the local shelters only had larger, higher shedding breeds and my now husband and I lived in a small apartment at the time and he has dog allergies. So, we did a lot of research to get a small, hypoallergenic dog in a way that matched our values (i.e. not from a local pet store that got dogs from high kill puppy mills at that time) and we found our Vallie. After a flight from Iowa to Philadelphia she was with us, and we loved her instantly.

Vallie told us pretty early on that she loved humans and found comfort in close proximity to us. My husband, nearly 6’2”, towered over her 3 lb puppy body and she would nuzzle herself between his legs on walks in the early days, a bit scared of the bigness of the world. We decided to crate train her but Vallie quickly protested, whimpering in her crate. And so my husband brought her into the bed and took her into his arms, where they both promptly fell into blissful sleep. And that was how she ended up in our bed and on all of our furniture for pretty much the entirety of our lives. I could not be happier that my husband made this decision!

Vallie grew to be about 13-14 lbs at full size, but she had big dog energy. We would take her to a nearby lake and she would keep up with the labs and golden retrievers, fetching a tennis ball in the lake as long as we would throw it for her. The owners of the larger dogs watched in awe as her tiny paws moved frantically in the water, determined and focused, again and again and again. Sometimes she couldn’t find her ball in the water and we were worried because she wouldn’t return until she found it! So we would have to throw rocks into the lake to guide her towards the ball! Eventually she would get it and return. She never gave up. 

There were a few things Vallie hated. She hated the roomba. And vacuums in general. And blenders. Really, the only thing that made her an imperfect dog was her barking. I would frequently say to her, “yes Vallie, I know you’re a dog” because it seemed like she thought I needed to be reminded. She also didn’t like drainage grates in the street. She would pull on her leash firmly away from them and refused to walk over them. 

Vallie tolerated other dogs but didn’t play with them. She LOVED people. And toys. And food. For a couple of years we fostered puppies and we had a basement space where we had a nice big play area for them. For whatever reason we often had all male puppies. Vallie was so smart and I would ask her when I got home, “Do you want to go see the boys?” Over time, she learned what this meant, and would bolt to the basement door as I asked the question, wagging her tail. Even though she didn’t play with other dogs, she seemingly cared about the puppies. She would come downstairs with me multiple times a day to check on them. When a couple of them had Parvo and were quite ill she went near them and was extra gentle. She was never a mom but always knew how to be motherly. In her older age we fostered kittens and even though she had never interacted with cats before, she was equally kind to the kittens. She let them sniff her and she watched them play, and would occasionally mother them if they needed it. 

Sleep routines were sweet with Vallie. Vallie slept at the foot of our bed. In the morning, we went through different variations of our routine over the years. In one sweet phase, my husband would lift his arm and Vallie would walk up to the top of the bed, nuzzle up against him, rest her head on his chest, he would wrap his arm around her, and we all went back to sleep. Another phase I loved was when Vallie would walk up to me and rest her neck on top of my neck and we all went back to sleep. This was especially cozy on a winter’s morning. A routine I was less fond of and occurred with her older age involved Vallie incessantly licking her paws or bottom, or vomiting to wake us in the morning. In her final year, our son asked if Vallie could sleep with him. Somehow she happily switched to do this and it brought both of them much joy, and thankfully she did not take her vomiting routine with her more than once or twice!

Vallie was our first “baby” and has meant so much for mine and my husband’s relationship. I know this may sound crazy to some, but I really consider Vallie to have been our first kid. We got her just as we were beginning our adulthood, fairly early in our relationship and careers, and she was my husband’s first pet ever and my first pet outside of my childhood dog. Vallie deepened my relationship to my husband and in many ways, brought out the best in him. My husband got extra silly and playful when we got Vallie. He would fly her through the air, make up songs about her, come up with nicknames for her, and invent silly games. We got to play together when we were with Vallie. And I got to see him come alive in a way I hadn’t seen up until that point in our relationship. Vallie was truly magic.

I also got to see a caretaking side of my husband that I hadn’t seen before. We were only in our very early 20s and I wasn’t necessarily thinking about having kids in the immediate future. But seeing my husband bathe Vallie and brush her and hold and play with her made me start to envision him as a life partner and as a father. I can also still vividly remember after we were engaged and moved into our first home together, he was finishing the book “A Dog’s Purpose” and was in tears about the dog having died. He looked over at Vallie and held her and told her how sad he would be when she died. I remember in that moment just how much love there was in that room between myself, my husband, and this incredible dog who brought so much heart led connection and joy into our lives. 

When I was pregnant with my first child, Vallie knew. She followed me even more than usual. As much as she loved my husband, I was always the Alpha and her number one priority. This only increased with my pregnancy. She would rest her head on my belly whenever possible. When I cried, she laid on the floor with me and licked my tears away or put her head on my chest to calm me down. Sometimes she brought me a toy – maybe she thought I too received immense joy from a tennis ball. People constantly told me, “your dog becomes just a dog when you have a baby.” That never happened for me. She was still my first baby.

When we brought our son home, somehow she knew to be gentle. She didn’t get as energetic with him as she did with adults. She gently sniffed him and cuddled up next to him. Sometimes she brought him a toy. Vallie liked how much I was home with both of them. She didn’t snap at the baby or bark at him or get jealous of him. She just welcomed him into the family. And she did the same with our next kid too. One of the many things that amazed me about her is that she never ruined their toys and even though she loved all kinds of toys, including stuffed animals, she always knew which stuffies were the kids and never ever put her mouth on them. She only ever touched her own stuffies. 

I can’t even recount all of the amazing Vallie stories. When I had an allergic reaction she followed me from room to room to make sure I was okay and slept with me constantly. When my dad died, she was by my side for days. If one of my kids were crying, she would check on them and lick their tears away. When my husband injured his shoulder she laid in bed with him. When she had her own torn ACL she fought like a champ. She could be sleeping upstairs and across the house but if she heard one pebble of her food drop, she would come bolting down the stairs to eat it. She would “lie” to me frequently, asking me for food when I got home from work, even though my husband just fed her. She understood so many different words and commands, but more importantly, she knew how to read human emotion. She was pure love. 

Watching Vallie age was hard. There were so many times she slowed down and then bounced back. She was such a fighter. She so badly wanted to live and to love. And she so badly wanted to be with her family. In these last few years she was not happy when we left for vacations because as much as she loved all humans, she just really liked being with us and in the comfort of our home. 

Ultimately, after 4 urgent care visits over the course of a week and seeing Vallie stop eating and then learning about her having kidney disease and likely other underlying issues, we made the decision to proceed with humane euthanasia yesterday. The vet shared that the way this would likely progress from here would be a lot of pain, possible seizures, and other complications and how it’s preferable for the family, the dog, and even the vet to get to end with the dog while the animal is still feeling semi-well and seeming like themselves and it being “too soon” rather than knowing it was “too late”. The amazing staff there really affirmed that we were in no way giving up on her, that it was a gift to her to not have her endure suffering, and that she lived a very long life in which she was loved. They reiterated many times that we were offering her a blessing of a peaceful, pain-free, selfless end of life. 

When we took her in to say goodbye, the urgent care center had a comfort room that was calming with peaceful artwork, a couch, chocolates, and plenty of tissues. Even though Vallie had shown no interest in a variety of food for days, when we offered her chocolate, she happily gobbled it up. We all felt joy watching her tail wag as she wolfed down the chocolate. My son wailed as he bargained that he would give away all of his money and belongings and never go to a hockey game again if he could just keep Vallie. My daughter hid behind her book, getting small and retracting on the couch, chiming in that she’d gladly give away her stuffies to keep Vallie. We started to say our goodbyes. We each hugged her and kissed her and held her tightly. Vallie looked into our eyes, perhaps with some knowing, but seemingly at peace. I whispered in her ear how much I love her and I thanked her for being such a great dog. As sad and painful as the process was, I am so happy for her and for us that we were all around her as they gave her medicine to go to sleep, and then medicine to stop her heart. It was quick, painless, and peaceful. The vet was outstanding and it was the most beautiful process of death I have ever witnessed. I am heartbroken and at the same time feel so grateful and honored to have been part of this moment for Vallie and to have been with the three people who matter most to me in this world as it happened. 

I know this is far longer and more scattered than my usual blog posts. And I know there’s a lot more that I can write, and so much I am leaving out. And this is what I’m left with as I wrap this up – I already miss her. I miss her as I walk from room to room and no one follows me. I miss her as I currently have the house to myself, but that typically meant that it was Vallie and I one on one together. I miss her as I sit here writing, used to her curling up beside me, sweetly tucking her chin on my legs and hearing the sound of her gentle breathing. I miss her in the absence of the sounds of her collar clinking and the pitter patter of her paws against our hardwood floors. And I deeply miss the feel of her warm body up against me, offering love and comfort, unconditional love. I already miss her so very badly. I can’t believe she’s really gone and our house feels empty without her. 

I love you Vallie and I am so very grateful for the 16 ½ years we had with you. Thank you for being the best dog I could have ever hoped for.