Tessa Marie
9/1/15-10/29/25
The carrying into one’s life is way better than the carrying out. The moment we decide to incorporate a dog (or cat) into our lives, we already know how the story is going to end but we do it anyway. For the joy. For the love. To bring sweetness into our lives for as many years as we are lucky to have them.
Tessa was the very best birthday present I ever had. That sweet freckled face was a bundle of joy from the very start, and she was, by far, the easiest dog. Oh, she got into trouble on occasion, but rarely so. There was the time as a puppy that she ate a pet sitter’s cowboy boots and chewed a string of Christmas lights on same said pet sitter (while the pet sitter was in the house and not paying attention)! Or there was the time when a petit filet mysteriously disappeared from the counter when Daddy was out lighting the grill; another time she swiped a hamburger bun, hilariously caught on the kitchen nanny cam, installed to catch four-legged thievery. The most notable theft came at our friends’ house where we were invited for dinner. “Bring the dogs; we’re going to get a puppy for the kids and we want to see how they do…” Mostly it was a lesson for the adults when Tessa taught them to never let a steak rest by itself after grilling and then noticing that Tessa was quietly but gloriously feasting in the grass. Medium rare is tasty indeed. Oh, Tessa Marie, we could never get mad at you! (Yes, this dog had a middle name, same as mine, and we also called her Baby Girl, Missy Junior, and Bubbas.)
We humans roll our eyes, but you, Tessa, were Queen of the Side Eye. We’d take thousands of pictures of you only to zoom in and see you giving the quintessential side eye. How you made us laugh with your facial antics!
And now you make us cry.
The first Thursday after your last Wednesday is a stark reminder of days to come.
You were both a Momma’s Girl and Daddy’s Little Girl, an Equal Opportunity Lover. How you loved when Daddy came through the door after working away or surprising him in the back of the car at the airport. Your equilibrium hummed with happiness when your fam was all together. You were loved by so many—your family, the neighborhood elderly, anyone who had an opportunity to care for you.
You were a good-natured and loving sister to Seamus, Ceara, Van Gogh, Sully, and Kaboodle. While you were an easy and flexible traveler, with Crested Butte being your very favorite place, you were a homebody at heart. You loved your space in front of the fireplace, your brown couch in the doggie den, lounging in your backyard Coolaroo, and spending time on the front porch with your beautiful, kissable nose poking out between the banister rails, always keeping an eye out for passersby or interloper bunnies. It will be impossible to look in the doggie den without seeing you there with your head propped on the couch armrest. Mostly, it will be hard to sleep without you in various spooning positions. You took up residence in our bed in February 2022 when Daddy was off to Beijing to cover the Winter Olympics, and you never left.
It’s hard to believe your hourglass ran out of sand at just 10 years old. We thought we’d have a few more years before death claimed you. You were the youngest of all our collective setters to die and the second youngest of all our dogs. You had so much gas left in the tank, girly girl.
I’ve loved and adored all of our animals, but this loss feels gut wrenching for a different reason. We’ve been surprised by the sudden death of a dog and devastated; we’ve anguished over the pre-grieving of a dog whose light was going out due to cancer or renal disease, but Tessa was diagnosed just two weeks ago and the cancer had already metastasized to three organs, an aggressive monster feasting on the sweet.
There could never be enough time with us. October claimed another precious soul, just as it had my mother, both grandfathers, an uncle, two other setters, and a kitty. Tim and I got married in October to help take the sting out of the month, but the scale hangs heavy.
Tessa’s last few days were steady reminders of her joy and generous affection. She did as she normally would do, when passing strangers on her walks, she couldn’t resist making a new friend. She woke up happy every day, belly up, tail wagging, tongue darting for kisses. Yesterday started out well but ended very differently.
I don’t know how we have weathered such tremendous losses. At this age, we know we have to weather three more still, and our hearts and tears are tired and battered from the repeated abyss of loss. The aching hole in our hearts will somewhat heal in time but we are forever changed. Tessa was the softness I counted on to smooth out my rough edges. Who will I become without her now? I admit I’m afraid. I feel weak in ways I don’t normally feel vulnerable.
You were one of life’s greatest gifts, Tessa, and the anguish from your loss is proportional in magnitude. Rest easy, baby girl. We hope you find your friends, lots of cheese, and plenty of bunnies and marmots in heaven.
Thank you for 10 years of loyal love, affection, and pure joy. You will be forever missed and remembered.
