My boys name was Arlo. He came into my
Life when I was out of my house due to a house fire and I was living in a no pet apartment. They called and said “they’re going to kill him.” And I said “not on my
Watch. What is the worst that could happen? I could be homeless. Well- I am homeless already! Bring him to me.”
When I got him my husband was so mad that he didn’t speak to me for 3 days. On the third day, a Monday, I had to do domestic violence presentations in two jails and Arlo couldn’t go. I left him with my husband, who still wasn’t speaking. On my lunch hour I got a call from him. He said “he’s a good dog damnit.” And so it began.
Arlo was 8 years old. The vet thought he was a labradoodle. His favorite treat was bones from Tractor Supply and he would steal them out of the box and take off running.
He loved to be anywhere I was. He slept in my bedroom and waited by the door until I got in from work. During the past couple of years he laid beside me as I wrote my dissertation. He was always there for support.
When Arlo was so sick, he spent most of the last of his energy getting up to see me when I came in at lunch and wagging his tail for me. That was on my birthday. I had to have him put to sleep the next day. I am still heartbroken and always will be. That is probably why it took me 3 months to write this.
Rest in Peace Arlo
