This is Stella, the most beautiful Boston Terrier we have ever seen. Her nose, not too short, but too long to be perfect for her breed. It's absolutely perfect to us. Her big puppy-like eyes and bat ears on a head that cocks almost 45 degrees to the left can make you smile during your saddest moments. That slight turn of the head is like a dial to your smile. You just can't help it.
She can't help giving you a great big lick whenever she can reach you. She loves to cuddle. She soaks up love as if it were oxygen. Unlike the intake of oxygen this love pours from her in abundance and powerfully. She can always sense when you are sad and seem inconsolable. There she'll be, warm and gentle. Looking with those big deep eyes as if to say, "I'm here. Don't worry. I love you and will never leave your side."
Alas she has left us, leaving a void that seems insurmountable. She didn't do it intentionally. Many things came together to create a recipe for disaster.
Ingredients; a senseless ride to a place where she needn't be, one selfish, careless family member, a car window open more than it should have been, her intense fear of lightning storms and loud noises, a terribly violent and swift storm, an unfamiliar neighborhood far from home .
The idea that she's out in the world alone and lost, has broken every heart in our family. Our dogs have never left our side. We've gone many places and unlike our daughter, we never left them in the car alone like children abandoned by an irresponsible parent.
Now our beautiful dog is wandering, lost, scared and alone. I constantly expect to see her when I open the front door or the put dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I wonder where she is when I come home and am greeted by one dog instead of two or when it's time to give out cookies. It's hard to sleep at night when we realize there is only one dog and two beds.
These are the times when I get that strange light feeling in my eyes which is followed by gushing tears, then that stinging feeling. The times when the exhale is strange and held while mucus runs out the nose. Inhaling seems to take forever. Next the racking sobs and the wailing crys. After, the very empty feeling. The void.
It's hard on my husband. This is his beautiful little girl dog. He swears she's a human in a dog body. He loves that she didn't take part in chasing woodland creatures or following scents. He loves that she enjoyed being with the family. He gets the biggest kick out of how she can trick our other dog into playing so she can take his place on the couch.
I guess it's most difficult on our son. He's had her with him in his bed the past few weeks. He always remarks how wonderful it is to cuddle with her and how she loved it too. We always knew when he was awake because he would squeal with delight and sing her silly songs.
We didn't have any silly times when we went looking for her after we got the call. We spent all that night and the next day searching for her . Yelling her name for hours while we walked and scanned the streets. Speaking to everyone we saw, even those we caught peering out their windows at the crazy people yelling up and down their street. People even shared tears.
We contacted the police, vetrinarians, post offices, grocery stores, put reward signs on poles and bulletin boards, went to church, prayed and lit a candle.
Now we pray every day that she's alive and safe and warm and fed and loved. After that, we hope that she will come home to us soon.
Stella, we love you and we are so, so sorry that you were put in this situation. Please forgive us and know that I never would have allowed you to take that trip, but you were taken without my consent or knowledge.
We love you and miss you terribly. Please, please go to someone so they can help you get home.
Now instead of seeing her and feeling joy, we think of her and pray come home soon. Come home soon.......
