Good bye Sweet Eva
My dog Eva died on Halloween. She almost made it to her sixteenth birthday; it is hard to let go of someone like that. I am utterly heartbroken. I loved her so much and didn’t realize how important she was in my life and how much of a support system she was. For a miniature greyhound, Eva had big dog energy regarding her love, devotion, and will.
I got her in the spring of 2008; she was really difficult her whole life; she was afraid of people, didn’t play, and wasn’t curious about the world around her. Food and I were her world; this dog could outeat anyone anywhere consistently throughout her life. Food battles between her and her younger brother, Maximus, were commonplace, persisting until the very night before her passing.
Eva's journey began on the Lower East Side at 130 Orchard Street; she was never interested in any of the gentrification going on in the neighborhood, dog runs, or any of the cool things that other dogs enjoyed; she then moved to Chelsea to 156 Eighth Avenue; I tried to drag her to the High Line hundreds of times, it was always too far for her, and even though small in size her will was gigantic if Eva didn’t want to go she would stop walking. Dragging her was never an option, as she would not move. I distinctly recall carrying her for blocks to catch a birthday sunrise one year; she seemed to enjoy the sun that morning—or at least pretended to, all for my sake. For almost five years after, she split her time between Soho and Connecticut, where she lived on a beach and roamed free. She did like eating goose poop, so her freedom wasn’t abound.
At the onset of the pandemic, Eva decided to move to South Carolina; her exact words were, “I am just too pretty to wear a mask," and so we moved. She retired in Charleston, enjoying the most glorious sunrises on the porch with me and her little brother Maximus, whom she adored, even though I have concrete evidence in a video of her trying to bite his head off when he was a tiny puppy. The last few years, Maximus brought her tremendous joy; his days were spent harassing her and then begging for forgiveness by snuggling next to her. He would tattle tale on her every chance he got if she ever took his food, and he never once missed her on his way back from a walk to greet her and let her know the news. He loved her so much. Eva spent August in NJ at her grandmother's house. She ran in the backyard leash-free and enjoyed the remnants of the summer. I remember thinking this was her last, but I pushed the thoughts away. Maximus was alone with her when she died, and it was his face she saw last; this brings me some comfort.
I wish I could say that I will miss Eva’s wanderlust appetite for life and her ability to relate and love everyone; that she was a life of every party and loved my friends and family unconditionally; that she listened and came to me whenever I called her name and was obedient. She did none of these things. Instead, she was my faithful companion; we went through so many life moments together, both good and bad; we did life together, Eva and I; she was loyal, warm, incredibly nurturing, and forgiving. And when I had food, she loved me even more. Eva was just different, and that is why I loved her. I miss her so much, and it's only been two days; I didn’t realize how close we were until now that she is no longer here. We humans often take things for granted.
Rest easy, Eva; one day, we will run free together again, my sweet, crazy girl. There are no words left—just sadness and love.
Love Mom.