Saying Goodbye

I traded in my car 2 weeks ago for another make and model. I have driven a Honda Civic for the past 7 years. After the snow back in December of ’09, I decided to get an SUV. I did some research and settled on a Toyota 4Runner as my next vehicle and then put off getting it for over a year. I had just paid off my Honda and wasn’t in a hurry to go back into debt. It makes less sense that I bought it now that I’ve just run up my school loan debt, but nevertheless I felt this was the time. I wanted a more functional vehicle to haul things and people, something the Civic can only do in limited quantity.

I confess the idea of letting go of my little car was somewhat bittersweet as I headed to Ft. Worth to pick up my 4Runner. After all, it was the first car I had purchased all by myself. That alone makes it special. Also, it has never failed me. Probably the greatest factor in my hesitation to let it go was my dog, Sophie.

If you’re my friend on Facebook, you know that I lost Sophie 6 months ago. She was a beautiful Black Lab mix. Her ebony coat was glistened in the sunlight. Her legs had a dusting of cocoa powder on them, so she looked like she was wearing chaps when the light caught her just right. Sophie and I had many adventures together in that car.

Our first adventure was to Leander to visit Melinda in the summer of ’05. She road in the car very well. Then there was a trip to visit Charles in Ft. Worth of ’06. She accompanied me every holiday we spent at my grandmother’s. She’s been with me to Carlsbad on several occasions to visit “Gangy” & “Pop-Pop”. She threw up in the car a couple of times, but most of the time she did really well. Sometimes, I’d take her with me on short errands around town, particularly those at night. Her presence was calming. She’d sit right on the edge of the seat to look out the windshield and place her left paw on my hand as it rested on the gearshift like she was navigating.

Sophie was an amazing creature. In the house she always wanted to be by my side as long as I didn’t crate her, then she would choose her bed in the corner. She was there when I was sick, watching me as if she were mentally preparing herself to drive me to the ER if it became necessary. She was there for every tear I shed in the throes of a depressive episode, just lying against me, seeing me through. Inside, she couldn’t have been a more loyal dog. Outside, she was a free spirit. Outside, if she wasn’t leashed, she did what she pleased. She didn’t come when she was called, she came when she was ready. Chasing her on foot was an endeavor in futility, but she LOVED the car. She wouldn’t come to me if I attempted to retrieve her on foot, but she would not hesitate if I came for her in the car. Outside, she always ran full-throttle into whatever the world had to offer her, as I’ve no doubt she did on that day the fence could no longer hold her.

Slowly, I began to let go of the things that I associated with her: her collapsible crate and bed, her toys, what was left of her Heartguard and Frontline, and finally vacuuming up her dog hair from the floor and furniture. Sarah gave me the great idea of putting her tag on my keyring and I placed her collar on the gearshift of the car she loved so much. The car was the only thing left where I felt most connected to her. And I felt the wrenching as I drove toward Ft. Worth in the Civic for the last time. I’m choking up just writing about all of it. For me it was the final act of acceptance that she isn’t coming back.

I do love my 4Runner. I have Sophie’s collar hanging over the rearview mirror so that she will be a part of this car. Wherever I go, she’ll always be with me. And somewhere beyond where our eyes can see, a wild, black dog with brown chaps is running full-throttle into whatever that realm has to offer her.