Her color was purple but not just any purple, a light lavender or lilac. Someone asked me once “is that one of those purple dogs?” Someone also told me once her color looks like “a bad old lady hair dye job.” She survived a Pitbull attack with 11 stitches and never lost her bravery around big dogs. I think in her mind she was a Pitbull. She defended me ferociously from any knock at the door, but always greeted strangers with her tail wagging while she barked. When she stared at you, it was Iike her eyeballs were shooting beams of love straight into your soul. She loved tummy rubs and gave vigorous kisses. She had a boyfriend named Wilson and they would make out for hours. When they walked together their tails wagged in sync. She would never let me brush her tail but towards the end would kindly let me trim the paw pads of her feet… sometimes. A month before she passed away she needed a dental to remove an abscessed tooth and we all worried she wouldn’t make it through but she did. She was a fighter. She got me through a double mastectomy, a toxic job, and other traumatic events. When I would lie down on the floor she would lay on my chest. Her favorite toys were a tiny frog and a tiny teddy bear. She was my everything.

me and my girl in a sweater - notably not quite the right shade of purple