This my first of a series of blogs to celebrate the life of Dahlia. I hope you enjoy reading our journey together and reliving our best memories. Joan XO

I tried to find the words, but they never came. I had no words, for one of the few times in my life, to write a tribute to Dahlia.

It stunned me. I am so full of love for Dahlia and emotions from losing her, and yet when I would go to write a tribute to her, no words would come to articulate what I was feeling.

And then last night I realized why I struggled with writing a tribute to her. Dahlia is not to be mourned. Dahlia is to be celebrated. Nothing in this girl’s life broke her spirit and she doesn’t wish for her passing to break mine.

Dahlia had one of the worse lives imaginable to a dog, until 6 years ago, when her owners decided she was no longer of use to them and left her with head trauma and broken bones to die alone and scared in a ditch.

A call to a rescue offering to “shoot the dog, if they didn’t to try and save her” changed everything, for both Dahlia and me.

Five hours of surgery, and van ride from Miami, Florida to Mississauga, Ontario, was the beginning of this nameless dog’s life. Dahlia was the name given to her by her rescuer, and the woman who became a dear friend of mine.  She asked me to foster Dahlia, as she was a special needs dog and Sherri felt I was the person who could help her.

And so began my journey with Dahlia.  It wasn’t easy for either of us at first. She was a nervous wreck and would pee constantly out of fear. I was ready to give up on her, but I didn’t. 

We found a forever home for her, she left my place, only to have diarrhea all night and be promptly returned to me by her adopter.

She then escaped her collar on a walk with me, disappearing for 3-1/2 hours, only to show up on my doorstep, waiting for someone to let her in. And that was when I realized this stubborn girl would spend her whole life finding her way back to me.

Adoption papers were signed, and Dahlia wharfed into this loving, carefree, playful dog. 

Fliplfop and Miss Ellie spent countless hours teaching her to play, trust us humans and hot to be a dog.  To her dying day, she really never did get the concept of play, but she would happily twirl in circles when near playful dogs.  Or lay down in the middle of one of Flipflop’s wrestling sessions with another dog, wagging her tail, feeling like she was included. And she was.

Her pack loved her so much. Flipflop, Miss Ellie and Hazel adored the oldest member of their pack. Never excluding her, even when she got too sore to play. Hazel would make sure she always gave Dahlia a few kisses on every visit.  Flipflop would constantly check on Dahlia any time they were separated and were reunited.

Flipflop grieves for his sister, as I do.  But this isn’t about our grief, this is about the amazing life of an amazing lady, Dahlia.