Their Beloved Dog Died… So They Posted An Anonymous Letter On Craigslist.

Their Beloved Dog Died… So They Posted An Anonymous Letter On Craigslist. April 1, 2023Leave a comment

If you’ve ever adopted an animal, you might have found yourself wondering where it came from. What sort of life was it living before it found its way to you? These dog-owners in Kansas City know that feeling well. After their beloved adopted dog Laurel passed away, the family wrote a letter to the dog’s former owners and posted it anonymously to Craigslist. The intent of the letter was to comfort the former owners (who they believed lost Laurel by mistake), and also to comfort themselves: This beautifully written letter shows how this family is gracefully navigating the loss of their pet.

The Craigslist ad reads: **To the Person Who Lost a German Short-Haired Pointer 2 Years Ago…** > Like other senior rescues before her, Laurel’s history was a mystery. > She simply showed up at a shelter outside of Kansas City, having been > found as a stray. As a 12-year-old dog at an overcrowded kill shelter, > Laurel found herself on the short list that nobody wants to be on. > When her intake photo that popped up in my news feed, with her > overgrown nails and eyes oozing with infection, we knew that we had to > save her. Before ever having met our sweet girl, we adopted her by > phone and drove the 4 hours to pick her up. > > Of all the animals we have adopted, Laurel was the only one who never > really felt like she was entirely ours. She arrived impeccably trained > and socialized, heart worm-free (meaning she had been given > preventative her whole life), and very, very loving toward humans. Her > eye condition was found to be chronic in nature, meaning somebody had > carefully applied medication each day for years to prevent blindness. > Someone had cherished this dog throughout her life, filling her with > adoration and unblinking trust for everyone she met. For a week after > she arrived at our home, Laurel politely but urgently held vigil by > our front door, desperately waiting for her family to arrive and whisk > her away. We went so far as to scour backlogged Craigslist ads for > missing dogs who matched her description, hoping that her status as a > homeless stray had been some horrible mistake and she had a family > tirelessly looking for her. > > This was not to be, though, and Laurel slowly gave up hope that loved > ones would find her. Occasionally we saw glimpses of a past life. A > few times while on a walk she became ecstatic when seeing a certain > type of truck parked along the street, eagerly planting herself at the > door or tailgate to be admitted in. She had enjoyed car rides with > someone, went on walks with someone, been loved by someone for so many > years. > > To this mystery person, who was so fully part of her life and then > not, I wish I could say this. . . > > I don’t know what happened to separate you from your very sweet > Laurel. Life or accident or circumstance left her without a family and > we were blessed to be able to take on that role. Dogs as loving as > Laurel are not simply born and raised, they are exquisitely crafted by > years of belly rubs and snuggles, kisses and shared table scraps. > Whoever you are, you filled this sweet dog up with a lifetime of love > and for that I am eternally grateful. Although Laurel was part of our > lives for just two years, her warm and loving nature left a permanent > paw print in our hearts. > > I want you to know that we loved her too, and cared for her as best we > could. She had doggie friends and hamburgers and cuddly beds. She went > on adventures and chased squirrels and marveled the joy of many > blessed days. The last years of her life were shrouded in love and > gentleness. She was protected and cared for entirely until her last > breath. > > I wouldn’t want to tell you the details of her final days, of the > cancer that blossomed and thrashed within her bones, slowly taking her > from us. Those sorrowful and agonizing last memories speak only of the > end of her story, not of the joyful spirit she exuded for all of her > 14 years. I would tell you that her end came peacefully, in her > favorite bed, surrounded by loved ones. It was painless and without > suffering, freed at last from a body that fought for too long. > > If I could, I would leave you instead with my favorite memory of our > sweet Laurel. It happened some time ago after we got her diagnosis, > one of those moments that come and go without a second thought. It is > not until much later that you realize it was filled with magic and > will remain a most beloved recollection. > > It was a beautiful fall evening. The last vestiges of late summer heat > were holding strong, infusing the air with a muggy warmth. Laurel’s > strength had waned and she no longer enjoyed long evening walks. > Instead we took her to her favorite park, positioning ourselves on a > bench overlooking a small pond. It was dark out but the baseball field > was lit for a game, casting a halo around the entire park. To Laurel’s > delight, we had brought along a special treat for her: a huge slice of > vanilla cake from the local grocery store. The gooey frosting had > melted, making its consumption nearly an Olympic event, her gumming > down the contents slowly and with great care. > > There she was, laying the soft grass, delicately decimating that > ridiculously giant piece of cake. She kept one eye on the ball > players, her nub wagging wildly when the crowd cheered. The rest of > her attention settled on the ducks as they lazily floated in the pond > before us. Passerbys chuckled at the sight of an old dog having a > whole piece of cake to herself and she seemed to be laughing too, > rejoicing in the splendidness of the moment. At one point she looked > up at me, her eyes alert and bright. She had goopy frosting all over > her mouth, crumbs lay everywhere. She was smiling and radiant, so > happy to be caught up in this unexpected joy. As a breeze blew by and > unsettled the ducks from their nearby slumber, Laurel looked on and > quietly contemplated a life well lived. > > Finally, I would want to say to you, thank you for holding such a > special place in Laurel’s heart. For protecting and loving her for the > first decade of her life. The world can be an harsh place and it takes > effort for a sinless soul to remain buoyed. My heart has been so > enriched by knowing her gentle spirit; regardless of what circumstance > led her to our door. > > Because I have loved and lost many animal friends, it is my deepest > hope that they will all joyously greet me one day at the Rainbow > Bridge. Laurel will be there, little tail stump thrumming, eager to > once again see both of us, the people who she so effortlessly gave her > heart to while on earth. I send this hope, this message, to an empty > void, an unknown person. But please know, whoever and wherever you > are, your dog was loved every day that she was not with you, until her > very last sunset. > > Our sweet Laurel passed away on January 16th, 2015, exactly two years > to the day that we adopted her.

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