Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Goodbye Corky

Today we put our sweet little pug Corky to sleep. As I held her head in my hands, and watched her take her last breath a flood of memories came rushing back. I remember the first time I held her in my arms when she was just a wee pup; she looked up into my eyes, then rested her tiny face on my chest and fell asleep. I knew in that moment she chose me to be her mommy. Since that day almost eleven years ago we've had many adventures with Corky. She's been with us since Jim and I were newlyweds, and it feels like she's been there at every important event. She's traveled to Canada with us, and chased down cows 100 times her size. She's helped us welcome Tralee and Hunter into the family and licked up the food that missed their mouths and fell to the floor. She's chased Jim on his four-wheeler and loved every minute of it. Corky even made a rap video! She was there anxiously sniffing Christmas stockings every year after Santa arrived. Santa never forgot to fill her stocking with her favorite chicken treats. She was there watching the children blow out their birthday candles, then patiently waiting for a piece of cake to fall to the ground. She was there through sicknesses; laying next to the afflicted, cuddeling up, and keeping them warm. Her favorite place to sleep and snore was under the covers in Jim's crotch! Silly dog! She was a stubborn little dog, and never really learned how to obey unless the promise of a treat was involved. She also let us know when she was upset with us by leaving us little "presents" on our bed -- luckily that only happened two or three times. Corky fit right in our family, and we've loved her so much over the last 11 years. I hope her little spirit is happily chasing cows today up in doggy heaven, and that she remembers how much we loved her. RIP Corky Jean Jacobs. We will miss you, your snores, your sneezes in our faces, and the way you could always make us laugh. We will always love you.

Our last picture with Corky this morning. RIP old girl.

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