Goodbye Sweet Lolli Pop

Posted in Monthly at 12:18 pm by Pasha

By Pasha Holiday

I held her as she slipped quietly into peace.

Lolli Pop had been my best friend and companion for 13 years. She had trucked along from city to city, state to state, by car, by plane, by train and even in my bike basket. Lolli was a trooper right until the end.

We knew it was time to say goodbye when she stopped eating, stopped stalking Decker for scraps and taking the sandwich from his tightly gripped fists. For the past two years, Loll and Deck have had a love/hate relationship; Lolli loved Decker when he had food, and hated her when he wouldn’t give her any (or when Decker sat on her, pulled her ears or pinched her nose.) Decker climbed into Lolli’s bed and Lolli loved when Deck’s bed was the living room floor. Telling Decker that Lolli was going to heaven was hard, but he stroked her sweetly in the last days and said his goodbye.

Lolli had not been able to climb stairs for at least three years. Even so, she kept a close eye on me. When Matthew would come home late from work, she would bark in protection. She stopped barking a couple weeks ago, and I knew. I think of how closely she guarded me. Throughout my labor with Decker, she stayed at bay. But in the moment that Decker came into the world, Lolli somehow climbed the stairs and appeared in the room, tail wagging. She had kept a close eye all day, and in the night hour came to her mama’s side. I’ll never forget that as long as I live.

Matthew and I talked last night about how Lolli brought us together. He told me that when we met, Lolli enhanced who I was; to him I was never just Pasha, I was Pasha and Lolli. He hopelessly loved her from the beginning. Matthew fought to bring her home for every holiday and to people’s homes who didn’t like dogs. He used to sing “My Lolli Girl, In a Lolli World,” to her.

We used to give her more lovins than we have this past year or so but she never seemed to hate us for it. She would take her place beside me in the chair when I nursed Decker. She laid in the crook of my belly and slept there until a baby took her place. Lolli was my first baby, the first thing that I ever loved unconditionally and uncontrollably.

There are all the little things, too, that made Lolli so special to everyone that she met. She licked the hands of anyone that she loved until the person was covering in Lolli breath (uck!) When she was still young, she ran circles and especially loved circles at the beach. Lolli chased squirrels, Matthew would hold her and hunt for them, declaring, “squirrely”, and let her down for the chase. She never caught one, but always loved the chase.

Lolli appeared at every family gathering, and if she wasn’t there, everyone, kids and adults would ask where she was. She was family. We never went camping without her, cause she loved being outside so much. She wore little sweaters and hated the winter. Lolli lived in front of the heater and when everyone else was sweating, she was just getting warmed up.

It is awfully hard for me to know that she will never greet me at the door again. Lolli will never lick my salty tears and my little boy might not remember her as he gets older. She will never clean the floor of any and all food, she will never sleep on her side and snore softly as I drift off. Lolli is no longer too fat or too skinny to total strangers and she will never take another road trip with us through life.

But Loll will forever and ever be engraved in me, my world, my memories and in my heart. She defined an entire decade of my time on earth. Lolli watched me grow from uncontrollable wild child, to a wife, mother and business owner. The terrible sadness that I feel today is only eased by knowing that Lolli Pop Krise is no longer in any pain, her arthritis is gone, she can run again. In heaven she will have teeth again and all the bones she can handle. Forever and ever, Lolli Pop, you will always be my first baby.