Sally

I wanted a dog that went everywhere and did all the things.

Right from the beginning, Sally was that dog.

Of course, in 1986, the world was a lot less dog friendly. Going all the places and doing all the things was different than it is now.

Mostly, Sally went on hikes in Eaton Canyon...

and had playdates with my friend, Lori's dog, Kerry.

Sometimes these involved a swimming pool!

I also took her to my camp job at least a few times, but there's no photo evidence. The best I can do is this picture of the two of us in the backyard, with me in my camp shirt.

Sally's social skills were excellent. She got along with everyone - human and canine - and Jock just adored her.

As a full-time outdoor dog, I think he spent most of his life being lonely. Sally changed that for him.

I'm really glad she was there to make his old man years a little happier.

Sally also started out as a full time outdoor dog.

I didn't want that - I wanted my dog in the house with me - but that was part of the deal I made with my parents when they agreed to let me have her.

I snuck her in here and there, but mostly, I held up my end. 

After I went to college, I started getting photos like this...

and this from my sister.

"Mom lets Sally in the house all the time now," she said. "She's basically an indoor dog."

Yay! But also, why couldn't that have happened while I still lived there?

Of all the dogs I've ever had, Sally was the one who loved playing fetch the most. It didn't matter if it was a big ball,

little ball,

frisbee,

or shoe. She'd chase anything.

She was good at catching, and she was really fast.

She also loved going on walks.

Eaton Canyon was her favorite, but around the block was fine, too.

For several years, Mom took her on a daily walk.

Then Dad retired, and she started walking with him instead. Sally didn't like that so she started taking herself on walks.

After years of living in that backyard without issue, suddenly she was escaping every single day.

She always came back. She didn't want a new home. She just wanted to go for a walk.

Dad tried really hard to keep her in, but she was resourceful. I took this picture of one of his multiple failed attempts to contain her during a trip to California in 1993. The back of the photo reads: Dog defeats man. Again.

On that same trip, I took Sally for a walk. We crossed paths with several people who greeted her by name. One lady told me, "We see her almost every day."

I was seventeen when I got Sally.

She was dog, but I didn't take her with me when I went to college. She wasn't allowed in the dorms or any of the small apartments I lived in while I was student. I missed her terribly and sent her several pieces of mail. I found this one while cleaning out my mom's house last month.

I wonder if Mom read this to her. I hope so.

After I graduated and moved to Tennessee, there came a point where I did have the ability to get a dog. I thought long and hard about whether or not that dog should be Sally. 

I really wanted her, but I wasn't sure she wanted me, or at least the life I could offer her. She was happy with my parents. Taking her away from everything and everyone she knew felt selfish. 

I ended up getting a white dog, instead.

Of course, I have no regrets in regards to Abbie. She was the Best Dog Ever.

But Sally was the Best Dog Ever, too.

Part of me will always wonder if I made the right choice leaving her in California. Would she have liked living on the horse show circuit? I will never know.

The only thing I can be sure of is this: Sally was a fabulous dog. I was so lucky to have her.