Growing up, I wanted a dog, but I feared the yet-to-be-acquired dog’s death. I suspect that’s not typical kid behavior, but my CF diagnosis instilled in me a death obsession. I grieved every loss I could dream up—even losses of relationships that didn’t yet exist.

In May 2012, with Ramón’s encouragement, I decided I was ready to get a dog. I knew I had let fear, especially of death, drive my decisions way too long. Adopting Noodle was symbolic of that shift in perspective—of the choice to prioritize LIFE over fear.

I could hardly sleep the night before we brought Noodle home. I told Ramón I was overwhelmed, that maybe it wasn’t a good idea. But that’s what it feels like when you step beyond what’s familiar—when you make eye contact with your fears.

Ramón assured me that he would take care of Noodle if it felt too overwhelming. We didn’t live together yet, but he insisted she stay at his condo since he already had Alfie the French Bulldog and was on a dog-friendly schedule. (Maybe he was using Noodle to get me to move in. Hmm.)

I immediately fell in love with Noodle. I knew, almost instantly, that her unconditional love was, without a doubt, worth the grief I would experience the day I lost her.

And that day was Tuesday.

She was her usually silly self until Saturday afternoon when she began having vertigo spells. She was much better on Sunday but declined significantly overnight. Noodle was hospitalized for IV fluids and meds for nausea and vertigo, but she never improved.  

On Tuesday morning, John and I brought her home so she could leave this world surrounded by her little family, including Benny and Magpie. It was as peaceful as it could possibly be.

Noodle was and will always be my “soul dog”—the one with an uncanny ability to sense exactly what I was feeling, both mentally and physically.

It’s hard to write anything that captures our 13 ½ years together. Maybe I’ll create a series of posts, but those won’t feel sufficient, either. How can I articulate such a soul-level connection with a creature that never said a single word to me (and occasionally ate feces)?

I imagine more words will come with time, but, for now, I love you, Noodle Lou.