At lunch today we had a vet come to our house and Junie passed away in our arms. It was very peaceful. We cried a lot, but I am trying to remember all the wonderful memories. She blessed our lives.

Junie was something of an accident. Stella and Callum were playing basketball at the Town Lake YMCA and there was an hour between their games on most Saturdays. We started walking the trail and kept running into dogs being walked from the Animal Shelter.

We fell in love with a pocket pittie and Julie and I somehow talked ourselves into pursuing it. At that point Lucy was very old, and Rhett was still full of energy. We thought maybe we needed a friend for Rhett. We found out the dog we had fell in love with on the trail would not be a match for our house (not good with kids? other dogs? I don’t remember).

At that point we’d already sold ourselves on a new dog, so we had the shelter pet matchmaker find us dogs that would be a good match for our household. There was a super-white pittie that had heartworms. They said we’d need to keep her still which was not really a match for the amount of energy Rhett had at that point. The other dog they brought out was Junie. She immediately just started loving on all of us, and at that point she seemed to get along with Rhett and Lucy. Lucy and Junie’s animus would come later.

We named her Junie B. Jones after the Barbara Park character and the fact we got her in June. Not realizing at the time how close Junie and Julie were. She became Junie Toots (known for her comically loud, but not stinky farts), Junie Boots, and Junebug.

Junie loved to sun herself which is probably what led to her skin cancer. She sunned herself for hours at a time. Coming in to cool off on the tile, and then returning back outside.

Junie was an athlete. She would bark at squirrels and do backflips.

She would chase balls, and could run very fast, but she couldn’t turn. She would get frustrated with Rhett’s grace when he’d swoop in and steal a ball that had changed direction as she struggled to slow down so she could change direction.

One time during a tech meeting for “The Metal Queen” she managed to launch herself over our 5’ privacy fence completely into the middle of our (unamused) neighbors who were hanging out talking next door.

Junie was always a social dog. If the kids were having a sleepover there was always a contingent of kids who just spent the entire party cuddling with her. She was a fixture of LGT meetings, but would generally put herself to bed long before we went to bed.

She always wanted to be a part of whatever anyone was doing.

She liked to cool down her legs in the pool, but not her tummy. Never her tummy.

She loved us all, but Stella was her favorite. Junie spent so many hours playing the Sims and sleeping in Stella’s bed.

We thought we had a lot more time with her. We had just had surgery again to have another non-malignant mass removed. She had come through with flying colors and just finished her recovery period. On Monday a week ago I had flown to Montreal and Julie ended up taking Junie to the emergency vet for breathing. She was diagnosed with Larnygial Paralysis. On Friday when I got home she was barely walking and couldn’t wag her tail. On Saturday she could barely walk and was stumbling around using her back legs more like kickstands.

As someone with Asthma not being able to catch her breath seemed horrible enough, but Junie was fiercely independent to the end and was not going to go to the bathroom unless she could walk (or stumble) a few feet away from us. The rapid decline made the decision clear, but we all felt we didn’t really have time to prepare for this.

Sunday night we took her on her favorite walk through the neighborhood in a cart, and her good across the street friends Kathy and George gave her lots of treats.

Junie, you were such a great dog. You treated our kids and every person you encountered with so much love. You had so much energy. We were talking about how without you we’ve lost the main character in our house. The creature we were always most concerned about, and who would let us know your every need.

The dog who came to us not barking definitely found her voice. We’ll miss you so much Junebug.