When I first got Shadow, you could tell that he wasn't being picked up from his first home. He didn't seem sad to leave, and the family wasn't sad to let him go. Getting him home, he met Ike, and settled in, but he was always a wild dog.
In the first couple of weeks that Shadow was with me, he was an escape artist, always finding ways to break out of the yard; he would squeeze under a gate, climb a fence, or find a way to sneak out if the gate wasn't latched tightly. About two or three weeks after I had him, he got out, and after chasing him, he disappeared. He didn't come home that night.
I was worried and panicked, and I know then I could handle him. He was too wild, and too unwilling to stay home. I was going to get rid of him.
In the morning, someone from five miles away brought him home. When they dropped him off, he quickly ran into the house and hid under a bed. I was livid, but happy he was back. When I coaxed him out of hiding, he stank horribly of something he'd rolled in during the night, so I gave him a bath. When I dried him off, I let him outside and kept an eye on him, and when he came in, I got ready to look for a new home for him.
While I was sitting in the chair, he came over and put his head on my knee and stared at me. When I moved an arm, he jumped into my lap, laid down, and went to sleep. He'd been up all night, and he was tired. I let Shadow sleep there for forty-five minutes before he got up and went to lay down. I never looked back.
Shadow had his quirks. If he didn't want attention, he'd walk away from it. While I ate, he would stare at me until I looked at him, then he'd stare at the ground until he was sure I wasn't watching him (he didn't want to get caught begging). When he would eat, he would lay down in front of his bowl, putting a paw on either side, and he'd eat it slowly, only one or two pieces at a time. To wake me up in the morning, he would stare at me until I opened my eyes, then he'd lick my nose and run off. If I fell back asleep, he would jump into the bed and curl up in a ball when he snuggled up against me, and he'd be content until I finally woke up.
People would see his face and eyes and think Shadow was an angry dog, but they just didn't know him. He was a loving, gentle, compassionate friend. He rarely barked or howled, and was content to just watch you until you did what he wanted you to do.
And we did that for years. My darkest times, he would be there for me. He'd sleep in bed with me, lay against my leg when I was in a chair, or follow me around the house and the apartment. He really was my Shadow.
When he was younger, he loved tug of war. He would have stuffed animals that he had completely destroyed, and we'd play with those until the arms, legs, and ears came off and all that remained was a piece of cloth. If you threw a ball, he'd fetch it... but you had to wrestle him to the ground to get it back, and he would get bored of fetch in three or four throws.
After moving to the apartment, he was started having trouble walking. We moved in in June 2015 and it was November that when we went for a walk, he would lay down; or he'd be limping when he climbed the stairs. Shadow hated those stairs, though. He was scared when he climbed because he could see through the slats. Going down was fine, but coming up, he had to be on my right, between me and the wall so he didn't get scared.
After a while of trying to help him up the stairs, thinking maybe he pulled a muscle, I noticed he was walking funny. His toes on his back paws would curl under him when he walked. The vet suspected a neurological condition, after xrays on his spine revealed no inflammation. Still, we were optimistic, so we gave him steroids. He started walking better, but then came the limp on the leg that eventually became infected and amputated. That was a month ago.
Since then, Shadow has been a fighter, but he's always been my Shadow. When I would come home and take his cone off, he would wag his tail, so excited to have it off and see me. I'd scratch his head and neck until he flopped onto his back so I could scratch at his chest and get his remaining back leg kicking. He'd gobble down his treats, and then just look at me all night unless I kept paying attention to him.
After the surgery, he started walking more, even though his front paw was bandaged because of a new infection, and then his back. The seven year old pup could still get around, and was still happy most of the time.
Then the seizures came on Wednesday, and I rushed him to the vet. He never fully regained consciousness. Between seizures he was sedated and on medications to treat them. We knew we didn't have much time.
Shadow, my pup, my friend, passed away in his sleep last night while at the vet. He turned seven this past January. He was always nothing short of amazing, even when he had me pulling my hair out. He was more to me than a dog, and will always be more than a memory.
You will always be missed, Shadow, and you will forever be loved.
Sleep well, my friend.