For Raven

In 2019, I went to Tennessee for a few days. Towards the end of my trip, my phone buzzed with a text message from my parents.

"Did you know Raven likes pulled pork sandwiches?"

Raven was my then 8-year-old Pug, who was blind. I'm pretty sure my response was, well, why would she not like pulled pork sandwiches?

I got Raven in 2015 after the puppy mill she lived at got rid of her. She was blind then and had never known life outside of a cage. 

Raven was always a different dog, and it didn't take me long to notice that she had some special needs. My favorite thing about her was that she stayed put and never ran away. (Blind dogs don't run.) Two months after I got Raven, Pickles came into our life, and as a puppy Pickles could run a 5-minute mile. 

But this blog post is about Raven. 

Raven crossed the Rainbow Bridge a couple of weeks ago, which was one of the most heartbreaking days of my life. I'm a firm believer that dogs tell you when they're ready to go, and my girl was ready to go. 

In the end, she went in my arms, surrounded by love. 

With me she knew grass and sunshine, was surrounded by family, got used to the loudness of kids and had her Pug sisters to cuddle with.

On her last night, I told her that she would never be alone. I slept next to her, and cried, while Penny Pug said goodbye to her and licked my tears away. 

During the winter, Raven could always be found by the space heater. Raven Pug had an excellent sense of hearing and used it to make up for her blindness. 

Raven was sensitive to sounds, yes, but she was also a source of sound. She let her dislikes be known by screaming at me at the top of her lungs. Among her top dislikes were wet grass during a morning potty, the sound that trains make, and thunder during storms. Despite her screaming, her tail always wagged in public and she was always quiet in public. 

She liked my parents, especially my Dad. Her tail wagged extra for him.

I named Raven after my favorite poem, The Raven. I named her based on her personality, not her color, and people always assumed that Raven was my black Pug. 

No, Raven was my moody fawn Pug. If she were a person, she'd be off in a corner during a party writing dark poetry in a corner of a room, all by herself. 

That's just Raven for you. 

I still look for my old girl, and I can't believe she's not here. I can't believe I had a day to say goodbye and just like that, she was gone. 

Gone, but not forgotten.

I love you, Raven. I hope I gave you the life that you deserved.