On November 24th, a bright light in my world darkened. That was the day my beloved golden-wise friend, Annie, breathed her last.
When I started typing this blog post, I originally wrote as the first sentence: On November 24th, a bright golden light in my world went out. Within seconds, I felt in my heart that it wasn’t true because Annie and her golden-wise ways will never truly be extinguished from my life. Even with my very active imagination, I cannot think of any circumstance in which I would ever forget our times romping in the woods together, her belly flops into the swimming pool, or her general otherworldliness that had me convinced she was a divine being wearing a dog costume so she could experience life on Earth.
I knew and loved Annie for over 6 years while I lived in Norfolk, CT, and that didn’t stop after we left in May 2023. We’ve taken hundreds of walks together in the Barbour Woods, one of my favorite places in the world. Annie’s joy of running wild in the woods served as the inspiration for the first young adult romcom I ever wrote, and my relationship with her and her human mom took me to Seattle, WA, in the summer of 2023, where I met Annie’s nephew, Arnold, and wrote a story about him for a middle-grade audience.
One of my favorite things about Annie is the little rhrr, rhrr, rhrr noises she made whenever anyone she loved visited her house (which was pretty much anyone she knew). She would lean into you, wagging the entire backside of her body, and rhrr away, mostly because she was happy to see you, but also, I suspect, because she saw that person as a potential walking mate in the woods. Just like how I love the Barbour Woods, so did Annie! One time, her mom reported to Heath that she looked out the window one day, and Annie was trotting along the trail on her own. She took herself for a walk! We all laughed and loved it.
I also taught her the word vamos, which is Spanish for let’s go! It only took her a few days to learn, and she knew how to listen for it when I came over because that meant it was a walk visit and not a visit visit, which I sometimes occasionally did.
The last time I saw Annie in person was in March 2025. I visited because a new puppy, Lucy Honeybee, and Annie’s great great great niece (I think I got the greats correct) had joined Annie’s family, and I wanted Lucy to know me during this critical stage in her life. And, of course, to visit Annie and her human mom.
Beleaguered is the best word Annie’s mom came up with for how Annie experienced Lucy, and it provided us with a lot of love, affection, and laughter for observing their relationship. I made it a point to take Annie on no-puppies-allowed walks so she could enjoy the peace and quiet of the woods without the worry of what Lucy was doing, where she was going, what she was putting in her mouth, or how she was jumping on top of Annie. I’m so glad I made the time to do that because those walks are now my last walks with Annie, and for being my last new memories, they’re pretty good.
My only regret during that time is that, according to my year-end review of Google Photos, I took 191 photos of Lucy and only 189 photos of Annie. Rationally, I know 2 photos are insignificant. Now that’s Annie gone, I want her to be on top one final time. Not that Lucy’s not ridiculously cute. Her golden-almost-wise ways are just so very different from Annie’s.
Not good or bad, just different, and I look forward to getting to know her.
However, it will never be the same as when I was living in Norfolk, and that’s why Annie’s death continues to hit me hard. With every passing day, my connection to Norfolk and the Northwest corner of Connecticut breaks a little bit more. I miss my friends, dogs, and the woods there very much.
Goodbye, Annie Rose. You may be gone from this world, but in my heart and stories, you remain a spark of gold forevermore.
