Remy: My teacher, by Carly B.

“We have another hound available, and I’ll take some money off if you want to meet her,” was what her foster carer told me after they had adopted out a dog named Molly that I was adopting! I was heartbroken. I decided to meet this other hound. Why not? Enter Remy.

I met Remy, a Beagle, in late 2011. We had 11½ wonderful, adventurous, lazy, happy, loving and oh-so-fun years together. Remy was an extension of me, my other half. She became a beach dog in no time. Rolling in the sand was one of her favorite things. I have endless videos of her doing this. Thank you, iPhone.

We moved to the Bayshore and it seemed life slowed down for both of us. We enjoyed long sunset hikes, pre-coffee hikes and beach strolls. Those years were very happy, healthy, and memorable for us. I consider them the best years of my life.

In 2021, after some health issues, we found out Remy had a bladder tumor. I was devastated and lost. I expected her to decline rapidly. Reading about her cancer, it was aggressive. I could not fully grasp that in a few months, Remy might be gone.

But it was 26½ months after she was diagnosed, that Remy gently passed on June 8, 2023. We had over two years in which she did not decline – in fact she seemed to live more. After never going in the water, she began to dip in the bay. She continued sand-rolling, hiking and long walks. Remy ate the healthiest foods, took the best supplements, hopped around like a pup at times, sat by bonfires, snoozed in the sun, had her own backyard to sniff as much as her nose would let her, and snored in her spot – always waking up to bark at a passing human.

Remy was smothered by the love of two moms, two pups and one cat sibling. I like to think that she gave us so much more time than expected in part because of this. She knew how loved she was.

Remy taught me true love, selflessness, and compassion in her entrance into my life. In her physical departure, she continues to teach me strength and resilience. I can only hope to carry these lessons with me, and when I see her again, say “Thank you, Rem” one more time before embracing her at last.

Are you sure you want to Log Out?