Good Girl - Amelia - March 1999 - July 29, 2016

GG. How do I even begin? You've been there. You've been everywhere. You've been through it all with us. 

You were there when I graduated college, when Will graduated college, when we moved to Centreville, when we moved to Fairfax, when we moved to Herndon, back to Fairfax, when we got engaged, when we got married, when we got Eligh, when we got Illy, when our grandparents died, when we bought a house (and moved again), when we got pregnant, when we lost the baby, when we flipped a coin and moved to NC, when we sold our VA house, when we bought a new house in NC, when we got pregnant again, when we lost that baby, when I was allergic to fertility treatments, when Will got diagnosed with Chiari, when he had brain surgery, when things seemed so hard, when we decided to adopt, when we got approved, when we got matched, when it failed, when we were devastated, when we were chosen again, when Dax was born, when he came home, when we experienced the happiest moment of our life, when you loved on him and cared for him so tenderly, when he said you were his best friend, when Yaya got so sick, when she died, when he had to be told you were going to see Jesus and be with Yaya. You've been a huge part of our lives for the past 17.5 years. You've been there in the good times and in the bad. You've been such a good girl. 

Your name was Amelia for a long time, and Will and I called you Mealboze, Meal, or Mealy - but when Dax got older he called you Good Girl. It's because you were such a good girl. Eventually it switched to GG and that's where you landed. Sweet old GG. 

You've worked hard to be such a good friend and my first baby. I'll never forget the day we met at the SPCA in Harrisonburg and I saw your tiny sweet face. I knew you were my dog, and I refused to let you go. I sat and held you  in the grass for hours until they could verify we could have dogs in our apartment. You were so tiny, so sweet, so small. You were just what I needed. A puppy to love and someone to love me unconditionally. 

We're going to miss you, but we know you're not comfortable here anymore. Your leg hurts, your hip aches, its hard for you to stand and even harder to walk, your teeth hurt, you cannot see, can hardly hear, you have dementia that keeps you pacing all night long, and your heart is weak. We know that it's selfish to keep you here when you're in pain and you've lived such a full and rewarding life. So, go on sweet girl - run off into the field, face first into the light with your sweet soft ears gently bouncing in the wind. Go and be happy. Go and be pain free. Go and rest and we'll see you again one day.