When I first met her, Aggie would greet my knock on the door with loud barking. She used to scare people she didn't know like that, but truthfully, as soon as you entered her domain, she'd more likely lick you all over, and jump up and down, standing on her hind legs. Indeed, it wasn't long before Aggie would meet me at the door like Fred Flintstone's Dino.As anyone who's ever met Aggie will tell ya, she also had that poke to the crotch with her snout. That was always a fine howdy-doody. Not quite as good as running from the back of the house to meet me, every time I came over, though.
There are so many things that made Aggie the best Golden Retriever, ever. Like the way she made me pet her for hours on end, and if I stopped for a split second, she'd nudge me, or paw at me. She had a way of climbing through my legs when I stood, wedging her head against my legs, and then twisting her backside around so I'd pet her. She'd clackity-clack around Lisa's wood floor to great effect, signaling that she was there, and you'd better be ready to take care of her. She'd go out in the yard in the warm sun, roll over on her back and just dance with all legs flailing in the air. She chased squirrels and birds off her property. Not that she'd know what to do if she could've caught up to them.
Best of all, she had a way of making me realize that the moments I had with her were special -- while we were having them. Her intuitive sense of mood often caught me off guard. She was braver, stronger and more giving than most humans I've ever known. She fought through a stroke, learned how to walk again, lived with arthritis, and a giant tumor in her belly. If she occasionally barked when I left the room because she wanted attention, I think I could forgive her for that. As Lisa said to me, she was a real trooper.
Just after Hurricane Rita came through Texas, Lisa and I took Aggie to my house and she just ran free in the backyard. She really liked open spaces.
She's running free, now. I'm gonna miss her.
