Best Memories of Mrs. Kara Sparkles

This week, all scheduled uploads were canceled because the dearest and most beloved dog I have ever known died from complications related to an enlarged heart. In truth, losing her has been devastating. Sparkles was such a constant source of light, comfort, and joy that her absence can be felt everywhere.

But I don't want the sadness of losing her to overshadow the happiness of having known her.

So, with tremendous love and great sadness at her passing, I wrote a short list of some of the little things that made Sparkles who she was. They aren't grand stories. They're simply memories of an adored little dog who was cared for, spoiled, included, cuddled, fed plenty of chicken, and loved tremendously throughout her life.

These are some of the memories that will always make me smile when I think of her.

1) The Night I Realized the Dog Was Smarter Than Me

It was winter, and we had a futon in the guest bedroom. The guest bedroom, by the way, was the coldest room in the house. Naturally, I had set Sparkles up to sleep in the kitchen, which was the warmest room.

Sparkles was not interested in my thoughtful accommodations.

At the time, I often slept in the guest room to escape the loud snoring of the person I was in a relationship with. Sparkles, however, hated being left out of whatever the people she loved were doing.

One night, sometime after midnight, she stood by the doorway barking as though she desperately needed to be let outside. Concerned, I got up immediately to let her out.

Sparkles scurried away.

Confused, I followed her.

When I reached the guest room, I discovered her already on the futon, butt-first on my pillow, settling herself into the warm place where I had been sleeping.

She had tricked me.

There was no emergency. There was no midnight bathroom break. Sparkles had simply decided that my bed was warmer than hers and devised a successful plan to acquire it.

Knowing that I had been thoroughly outsmarted by a tiny dog, I slept at the other end of the futon that night.

She had earned her victory.

2) Being Funny About Chicken

Chicken was always Sparkles's favorite food. God forbid you tried to convince her that dry dog food was an acceptable substitute.

Whenever I cooked chicken, Sparkles appointed herself the official kitchen supervisor. She was always the first to let me know when she believed it was ready to come out of the oven.

If I was making dinner and Sparkles suddenly appeared in the kitchen, I knew what she wanted. She would bark at the oven, then look at me with a perfectly serious expression before moving her eyes toward the food as if to say, Are you not seeing this? The chicken is ready.

Whether the chicken was actually ready was apparently irrelevant.

I loved having my little chicken timer there with me. Now, whenever I cook chicken, I know I'll think about the little dog who took such a personal interest in making sure dinner was served promptly.

3) My Little Camping Buddy

I have always hated camping.

Sparkles, on the other hand, wasn't entirely opposed to it.

Whenever we went, I made sure to bring her along because she was part of the family, and I knew she would find ways to make the trip more interesting. She would wander around exploring everything, happily investigating this strange temporary version of home.

At night, she would curl up beside us like the little snuggle buddy she was, warm and safe with her people, snoring the night away.

In the morning, Sparkles was ready before everyone else. She would wake up the group, tail wagging, prepared for another day of adventures.

There was, however, one activity she firmly declined.

Swimming.

Sparkles had apparently reviewed the concept and determined that it was not to her liking.

We respected her decision.

4) The Little Things

In the end, these are the things I find myself missing the most.

The sound of her little paws tapping across the floor. The warm spot she left behind on the couch. Her constant requests for chicken. Morning snuggles. Her barking. Her snoring. The way she wanted to be wherever her people were. The familiar little routines that seemed completely ordinary because I never imagined how much I would miss them once they were gone.

Those tiny things were Sparkles.

They were also what made loving her so easy.

She was cared for because she mattered. She was included because she belonged. She was spoiled because making her happy made us happy. And when she wanted warmth, comfort, attention, chicken, or simply to curl up beside someone she loved, we did our best to make sure she had it.

Sparkles was one of the most honest and sincere beings I have ever had the privilege of knowing. She never had to pretend to be anything other than exactly what she was.

And what she was

was deeply loved.

She is missed more than I can adequately put into words. I would have given anything for more time with her, but I will always be grateful for the time we had.

She was loved while she was here.

She is loved now.

And she always will be.