Thirteen Years.

Thirteen days ago, I lost my friend of thirteen years.  Riley has been in my life since I was five years old.  Since the day my dad came home with this little black blob in a card board box.  When he arrived I did not realize how much he would wind up meaning to me, this little mutt, a jumbled up and confused mess of a dog.

This is just part of a thirteen year story, the story of my Riley.

Silly boy isn't looking at the camera, but he's still cute.

In the fall of 2000, it was just my family and me.  Two parents, two brothers, and Lauren.  Our previous family dog, Molly, had passed away earlier that year and we had no plans to get a new one.  At least Mom had no plans for another dog.  My father had other plans, one day he came back from work at his usual time, carrying a cardboard box.  I was in the living room, playing with my brother, when Dad called me into the kitchen.  I remember not wanting to go, the blocks we were playing with were far to interesting.  But I did what I was told.  My dad was beaming by the door and pointed to a box next to the refrigerator, a black towel was balled up in the corner.  Then the black towel blinked.  A PUPPY!  We got a puppy!  Mom wouldn't let me pet him right away, saying we to wait until he was less scared.  So I sat four feet from the box and waited.  Waited to pet my best friend for the first time.

Oh, that hair!  Morning cuddles with Riley. 

Riley fit in perfectly, he was very sweet with my brothers and me.  Shared his food, his toys, and his teeth (he had a thing for biting toes).  He followed us kids around all day, tiring all four of us out.  But from a very young age we notices him avoiding stairs, and having a hard time jumping up on the bed or couch.  Cue the dachshund in him, his front legs were shorter then his back legs and they were curved inwards. Causing him to have arthritis at about a year old. Did that stop him?  Nope.  He ran and romped and played as much as any other puppy. And every year on Christmas he ran away.  Ever year for about six or so years.  Silly boy.

Oh these people!

Snow Puppy!

Riley romped and played for thirteen years, he went to doggy summer camp one year with his friend Tori.  He won all the awards.  He treed too many squirrel to count, and even one cat!  Got to ride in the car to go to the beauty shop, went to Grandpa's, and woke the kids up for school.  He was a busy, happy boy for most of his life.

Our "water" dog.

Tessa, Riley, and myself.  Fall of 2011.

Towards the beginning of 2013, it hit me, Riley wasn't going to live forever.  Even though it seemed like he would.  I mean the dog shouldn't have lasted six months with his daredevil attitude and messed up body, but he lasted thirteen plus years.  A good thirteen years.  I saw him for the last time on September 18th.  As I said my quick goodbyes, running out the door to move to college, it didn't really hit me I wouldn't see him again.  Does anyone ever really think that?  The idea may be in your head, but you don't truly believe it.  "Prepare yourself, he may not be here at Thanksgiving."  I was told that.  I knew that.  But I didn't believe that.  Not really.  Not even now.

This is one of my favorites of him.

As he grew older, we grew up.  He was there to play tug of war, he was there to scare away the squirrels, he was there to bark at that nasty vacuum.  He was there whenever I needed him, even when I didn't realize I needed him.  I wasn't there when he got sick, I wasn't there when we had to put him down, I wasn't there to say goodbye.  This is my goodbye, I guess.  My goodbye from 358 miles away.  My goodbye, because I didn't want to admit it before now.  Riley is gone now.  He lives now just in my memories and in the photos on my wall.  Thirteen years of memories, scars, tears, kisses, rope toys, and treats.  Thirteen years of wonderful Riley McDuffy Wolfgang.