Liberty Trueheart: More Than "Just a Dog"

It's been over a month since I lost my pup, but I still get choked up at the mention of her.

I knew it was going to be incredibly difficult to step through my front door for the first time and not be greeted by her impossibly fast tail. I was still puffy-eyed when I saw my grandpa. He immediately knew why – and it broke my heart to see the emotion also sweep across his face. In her 15 years, Libby became engrained in my grandparents' daily routine. She was the perfect napping partner for grandpa (a narcoleptic) and a staple in their 4pm dinners (hashtag retired life). And I do mean a staple. Every day, Libby ate her own dinner: 2 hot dogs and a scoop of ice cream. She was just as spoiled for other meals, eating "people food" almost every day of her life. The bowl of dog kibble practically became a joke in our family – we really only had it for show. Although, I would try to tempt Libby with it on those morning there was only one cinnamon raisin bagel left for breakfast. But Libby’s puppy dogs eyes would often leave me eating cereal instead.

For 15 years, Libby was a core member of our family. Keep in mind, I have only known my grandparents for 20 years, so much of life as I know it has been with her.

She was there on my first day of junior high. We rang in Y2K together. She rode shotgun as I learned how to drive on a Ford F-150. She accidentally busted me for my first (and only) party house-party because she hid all of the beer bottle caps in her dog bed. She used to try to kiss slobber on my boyfriend like he was her own. She celebrated all three of my graduations with party hats and at least 2 pieces of cake. When I got a job in Boston and didn't visit as frequently, she would push herself up to the computer screen during Skype sessions with my grandparents. And when I did visit, she come find me in the house every 30 minutes to make sure I was still around (I have multiple videos like the one below).

With most of my impressionable years spent with her, I shouldn't have been surprised that I was upset to lose her... but a part of me was embarrassed by how much I was. I shared this with Gee and he said, "thank goodness I'm not the only one."

I know there is a social perception that we aren't supposed to grieve so heavily for the loss of a pet, but it certainly can't be healthy to bottle it up [cue Alia's former psychologist self].

Digging through my old psych books uncovered a study about a group of dog owners who were asked to place symbols for their family members and pets in a circle representing each dog owner’s life. In the study, subjects tended to put the dog closer than the average family member, and about as close as the closest family member; in 38 percent of the cases, the dog was closest of all.

If this is really the case, I completely understand why people grieve like they've lost a member of the family because that is simply what it feels like. For Gee, I saw that Libby gave him constant companionship, and there was total dependency, and that’s why he is grieving so intensely. He needs to… I need to… in order to move forward.

I know some may think it is silly to grieve for "just a dog." But this just-a-dog taught me some important lessons during my most impressionable years:

• Days that begin with bagels are the best
• Don’t let anyone define you (Libby never realized she wasn’t human)
• Life is better with party hats and bows galore

And then there are the lessons that are more difficult to articulate…

...

In recent years – before returning home to Boston – I would get down in Libby's face, lift one floppy ears and whisper, "Be here when I get back, okay? But in case you're not, I love you."

I don't particularly enjoy the emotional goodbyes I have with my family every 2-3 months because I live 2,500 miles from them, but Libby always prompted me turn around and hug my family with the same heartfelt intent because you just never know about life.

That was Libby at her best – she way always helping me tap into the best parts of myself. I only wish I could be as loving in all areas of my life as I was with her. Dogs just bring out the best version of yourself, you know? Just the very best.

So, thank you to my best gal, Libby Lou. To the others in my life, I hope you have had/will have the opportunity to be loved so unconditionally.

Liberty Lou, August 11, 1999 - August 4, 2014