February 12, 2024

Dear Sweet Dallas,

It’s been a month since your passing. 

Today would have been your birthday. You were a Valentine’s Day gift to Vickie and I. I still remember when we made the trip to meet you at the animal shelter. Vickie was so excited, so determined to get you; her first rescue dog. Little did we know how special you were, how much love you would bring to our lives.

You were truly special. Growing up I always had an idea that dogs had tempers, personalities. You, my Dallas, were kindness. You never barked, never bit; save to protect your mama Vickie from strangers. You were shy to new people, but quick to warm up once you had received your fair share of pets and hellos. Funnily enough; you were fearful to big dogs; and patient to the small yappy ones. You enjoyed timeless days and nights on the couch; just happy to be near us, with us. Sometimes, you would peek out the window over the street, staring at the dogs on the other side of the road and give out a tiny little bark, eager to make new friends. 

I loved our coffee dates. They were the best. We’d go to Cafe Unido and stay there for hours; me with a computer and you hopping over to each table to see if you could get some scraps from the customers. You would gently bark at a table if they hadn’t noticed you, acknowledge you, and then you’d go over to get your pets and a bite. You loved food; just like your Mama. You loved cheeseburgers, bark pops, and those dog friendly yogurts full of fruit from uncle Luis. You’d devour them in minutes and wouldn’t pull away. I miss looking over my plate to see you, hopeful by my side, patiently awaiting your serving of fries. 

Speaking of Uncle Waff, thanks for being there for him. You guys had a bond. You’d share your sunday fundays with your junk food feast. He’d bring you treats, new toys; always a new bandana to wear. He would get so excited to spend the day together; to take you to Woof Shop, or hang out at Cafe Unido or Casa Bruja. He was the only person who could get a “waff” from you on command. That was your special thing.

You used to run in your sleep. I know all dogs “run” but it was cute coming from you. We could imagine how free and fast you’d be had you not lost your leg. Vickie and I would say “go get it!”. We’d cheer you on, while we imagined you were chasing a rabbit. The one time we truly saw you run, was at the beach. You ran up and down, and up and down the sand; barking at the waves. You were excited, thrilled, energetic. It’s one of our favorite moments together. 

My actual favorite moments were in El Valle. We loved to just be out there, in the yard. Start the morning early, maybe 7:30 am and not go back to bed. You loved to hop around, sniff all the plants and the new smells. You would dig a hole with that one front paw of yours and make your own makeshift burrow. This was your “outdoor” place. We got to take naps on the hammock. We had long nights on the patio; you on my lap. Lapdog Dallas is my favorite Dallas moment. Us in El Valle, out on the patio, hoodies and sweatpants, dog on lap. We’d stay there for hours.

We had a rough couple last months. You struggled but did your best to hide it; for us not to know the pain you were in. You’d wake me up early in the morning, 4 am, because you had to pee. Or you’d wake me up on weekends from a terrible hangover; hold me accountable to my Papa duties to take you out and seize the day. I didn’t mind it for a second. I loved you so much; happy to take you out  at 11:00 pm, 2:00 am, 4:00 am and 7:00 am again. And I’d do it over again for you. No regrets. Tired, but never a regret.

The pain of losing you is great and deep. I lost my best friend. I’m here typing away a month later, tears in my eyes; sobbing short of breath. I miss you Dallas. I miss my friend. We miss the joy and peace at home. We miss the comfort of your presence. We miss that face you’d make, when we pet your head and you’d stare lovingly back. So gentle. Vickie misses her shadow. The constant hopping around the apartment. Always finding a little spot behind or near us to curl yourself into. I miss us snuggling up together; you leaning your head back, showing your little teeth, stretching your neck, complete trust in me. 

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Love you Dallalo!