Ali was born in April, 1997, four months after I came home from mission. Post-mission adjustment did not go so well for me and by April I was feeling pretty lost in the world. Who knew Heavenly Father would send me my own personal guardian. I was living at home at the time and knew I would have to find a place to live in order to have a dog. Luckily, the place I was working at the time had its office in a house. I moved into the basement.
Named Heidi for about a week, Ali was the runt - 7 of 7. The other 6 puppies would beat her up, push her away from feeding, and all that stuff. She would try to walk and fall over because she had no balance or coordination. I looked at her, said she was the one, then added "that's no Heidi, that is Alijandra." She came home on Memorial Day, just shy of 6 weeks old. She rode home in a shoebox and was so small I had to get a cat collar. Pink of course, she always had a pink collar.
Ali continually gave me a heart attack. There was a small pond where we lived and she was always leaning over the edge to see the water. More than once I had to fish her out of it. She had not learned the concept of swimming. When she was 14, she would fall into my neighbor's pool doing the same thing. She fell down a flight of stairs in her first few weeks home. She fell behind the headboard of the bed and go stuck. One morning while I was showering, she lodged her head in the space between the wall and the vanity cabinet and got stuck.
In March 1998, we packed our toys up and moved to Charleston. We celebrated her first birthday sitting on the porch of our trailer while eating Arby's roast beef sandwiches. She would have one for her birthday every year (of course and plenty when it wasn't her birthday too). There was a big field behind my trailer and the kids in the park would come ask if they could take her out there to run. She would outrun them all and would jump higher than some of them stood. One boy always asked if she was a circus dog. Life was good for Ali and I.
Through the years, we had some adventures. Everyone knew Ali. She went with me everywhere when she could. School, church, the store, wherever. If the weather allowed it, she was with me. She was the mascot of my softball teams and honorary member of several student groups at EIU. She had access to quite a few "no pets allowed" places, yet that was not a problem, Ali did not seem to realize she was a dog. By the time she was 3 we had moved a few times and ended up out at the farm. Oh the adventures she had. It was not common to come home and find her and Brumby, the farm dog, up on the roof of the stables. They would go up through the hay mau and out the windows to sunbathe. She thought she was as big as the horses and was constantly teasing Armani.
One day I came home from work and was asked if I thought Ali would kill a chicken. I replied no, she probably would not know what to do with one. The farm owner produced a bald chicken (still alive, yet no feathers at all) and said that it was her guess that probably both dogs were guilty. I called for Ali (not thinking she could have done it) who showed up with a "what mom, I didn't do anything" look. That was fine, but the chicken feathers caught in her teeth kind of ratted her out.
Ali was my saving grace. That next year I would start having some serious health problems. I would find myself out of work due to it and on a dark road emotionally from it. She was my buddy. Always t
here no matter what. As bad as life could get, she always was the anchor. When I became seriously depressed and fought with suicidal thoughts, the one reason I did not go through with them was all I could think of was who would treat Ali as good as I did. If that is why she was with me, then it was the greatest gift there was.After I moved to Charleston, I would travel each summer to Arkansas to see my biological father, aunt, and grandmother. My first year they were excited to see me, yet asked where Ali was. Every year after that she made the trip with me. We would stop along the way and eat picnic lunches and she loved to play "barkies" with the semi's. My aunt shook her head one day when we returned and Ali was up on the couch with granny. She said, look at that, we had to sit on plastic covers and Ali has her own special spot!"
We had a scare in October of 2004 when Ali decided to chase a squirrel and ran out in front of an SUV. I saw the whole thing and can still hear every sound of it including her wailing. I had two shirts on so I quickly ripped one off and scooped her up in it. I just sat at the edge of my drive holding her begging God not to take her away from me. 
The SUV had clipped her back leg which did not break, yet the force from it split her hip socket and broke the upper crest of her pelvis. I had a choice - surgery or see how it would heal on its own. Jordan had just gotten out of the play pen phase so we used that to keep her contained and put it all into God's hands. Not only did she heal, a few years later she had some x-rays for something and the vet said the only way she knew those bones had been broken was because she had taken care of her. You couldn't tell. Although she would go on to live another 11 years, she aged quickly after that. Her dark brown lightened, her muzzle grayed, and what "puppy" was still in her had vanished.
Oh the stories and the memories continued. We celebrated birthdays (her last birthday, her 15th, I made her a beef jerky topped dog house cake), holidays, family events, vacations, and more together. I could fill several days of blog posts with all the stories. She was my girl. From the time she was little we played the "where's Ali" game where I would start going "wheeeerrreee's Ali" and she had to nuzzle or paw me and I would go "THERE SHE IS!" and she would get all excited and we would do it again. The last year or so, she had lost most of her hearing, so I had to do it as high pitched as I possibly could. She went from nuzzling to howling. It was the greatest thing.
I took her into the doc to get checked for what I hoped was a bladder infection. The doc came back and reported that she was in kidney failure. It was all about time at that point. A week later she had quit eating and drinking. I refused to let her suffer and made the choice to do the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life. Ali ended her mission in this life on June 21, 2012. Can't say life has been the same without her, yet I never would have wanted her to be in pain and she was.
That last week I sat outside and watched her dig her final hole. Oh how she loved to dig. I pulled out my cheap phone and shot video of her taking on the tree root and her getting things just how she wanted. I never knew a few days later she would be gone. A year and a half later, the hole is still out there. I have not been able to bring myself to fill it in yet. I figure mother nature can take care of that for me.
So she sits on my computer desk. We talk all the time. When friends or family come over, they pat her box and say hi. Her last collar and tags hangs off the corner of my computer monitor. When my time comes, she will be buried with me.
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| Thanks mom for a great life! |
She is never far away from me and sometimes when it is quiet, I can still hear the "jingles" of her tags. People have asked me when I am going to get another dog. I don't want another dog. I don't miss having a dog. I miss Ali. I miss my buddy. I miss my friend.
Cheers Alijandra!!!! This TBT is for you!!!!
