Before you read: I know I haven’t blogged in over a year. Life has been busy, tricky and quite a whirlwind.  After over eight years of loyal service, my pawsome Lassie is retiring tomorrow and will move out in few days. I wrote and read this letter to her. I think she understood as she cuddled into me. It’s very personal and was hard to write but I hope it‘ll help others who have to say goodbye to their assistance or service dogs , and those who love and support them. 

Dear Lassie, 

I don’t really know how to start… It brings tears to my eyes every time I think about your retirement and moving to a different family; that final walk we just did was wonderful and awful at the same time; now just Christmas left. I know K will love you, how could they not? You are the cutest and most loving dog. They’ll be so lucky to share some of your life with you. 

“When I hear your name, I think of love”^[1]. I will miss having you by my left leg, hearing you sleep-bark during meetings and trying to sneakily kiss my nose when I bend down. 

It feels like yesterday that you came into our house for the very first time. You ran up to me and put your head on my knee. You weren’t even supposed to be mine, just a dog to test walking speed and height difference. That first walk with you was magical. We just clicked, I knew what you wanted me to do and you were so happy. That tail of yours kept hitting the back of my leg. Afterwards, I told them I didn’t want a dog like you; I wanted you. 

You must have told them the same. Only a few days later, they called me and made me incredibly happy. You were to become my partner doggy; my Lassie! I believe we were meant for each other. September 2013 when you were born , my journey to get a guide dog started, still back in Germany. It took more than a year before we both lived in the same country. It took you being matched and returned, losing confidence, being retrained, being unhappy with lots of potential matches; and me applying and going through the assessments, before we met in October 2015; not even supposed to ever be matched. Yet, always supposed to be together. I know that. 

 I will always be grateful to you. I owe so much to you. It still catches me by surprise sometimes how a dog changed my life. You opened up new possibilities, made the world less scary and gave me back confidence I didn’t even realise I lost. When I’m down and fighting my daemons, “You take the dark away and that is no easy feat”^[2]. 

I’m in awe of you. You were shy and unsure of yourself when we trained together. Now look at you. You’re probably one of the most confident, and yes sometimes cocky guide dogs out there. 

Do you remember the first time we flew together on Christmas Day 2015, only six weeks after qualifying? You charmed the flight attendance so we ended up sitting in Business Class, my first ever upgrade. You were so chilled as if flying was just a thing that all dogs do all the time. Looking back that was probably when you became “Her Ladyship”. Every time  since, you tried to sit in Business Class, you grunt if there is no carpet or dog bed to snooze on or when the floor is too cold. And yes, I love you more because of it. 

 I loved every moment with you. From our first holiday together in Cornwell over New Year’s to our daily evening cuddles on the floor and all the adventures and little moments along the way. Nothing ever fazed you, well except cats and the first time daddy pealed a potato (still wondering what you were on about there). 

Just think back what amazing things you did, my little Lassie-girl. You climbed Mount Snowden, guided me through thick snow in Canada, navigated London Christmas shopping, walked through the Mammoth Caves up and down uneven stairs, through narrow paths, explored ancient ruins in Sicily, went narrow boating, intensely sniffed the floor in Scottish whiskey distilleries, helped out in many collections and guide dog talks, featured in a national TV ad, went to countless museums, palaces and castles, patiently sat at countless playgrounds, enjoyed festivals, multiple West End shows, and saw Ed Sheeran perform, not once but five times. Remember how you were wrapped up in a picnic blanket wearing your ear defenders and sleeping while 80,000 humans around you were singing,  or when the human next to us cuddled  you alongside their partner at Wembley while listening to Perfect. You were by my side through numerous lectures, seminars, conferences, panel discussions and workshops. All with that ever-wagging tail and huge enthusiasm. Always ready for the next adventure while perfecting the art of snoozing everywhere and anywhere. 

Without you, we would have never been able to adopt those two , sometimes very noisy, human puppies. Without you, I would have been run over by cars twice and who knows how many times I would have walked into things, bumped my head or fallen over. 

I would not be who I am today without you, my Hundebaby. I wouldn’t have been able to be the mum I am to my children, the partner to my husband, the colleague to my co-workers and educator to my students. My dream of becoming a professor wouldn’t have come true without your help. For that, you are my hero dog. I was so happy when you became runner-up at this year’s Guide Dogs Hero Dog Award and we became Partnership of the Year, for me there could not be a better pawsome partner than you.  

I will miss how you sneakily try to roll in “eau du fox” during your free runs, your excitement every time you hear the jingle of your harness, how you guided me into puddles to let me know that you didn’t enjoy working in heavy rain. I will miss your nudges in the back of my knee when I’m a bit late feeding you, your excitement when we get a carrot out of the fridge, your cuddles and nudges for more cuddles, your never-ending eagerness to play fetch and the noise when you drink your whole water bowl in one go. I will miss the independence you gifted me. I will miss a part of me. 

But most of all, I will miss your love. 

I am sorry that I can’t keep you. I know you will be happy. K sounds like an amazing person and has raised many of your colleagues. I made sure that you will get your blanket that your great granddad got for you and that has travelled with you for many years, your favourite elephant squeaky toy  and the blue ball you love so much. Yes, I’ll also pack the rest of the treats you won at the ward ceremony.

You will always be in my heart. I will never forget you, my Hundebaby. 

Crying so hard now that I don’t even know what I’m typing anymore. 

Love you so much. Enjoy your new life as a retired guide dog, play with your new dog sibling, chase those Welsh squirrels, tell all cats off, demand thousands of cuddles and make sure to get your daily carrot. You deserve it all and much much more. 

With love,

Always, your mummy!

PS: maybe you can use your retirement to learn how to sit properly J

PSS: Make sure that your new family plays a constant sound track of Ed Sheeran to your new life!

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^[1] Lyric from „life goes on“ (Ed Sheeran, Subtract)

^[2] Lyric from „colourbilnd“ (Ed Sheeran, Subtract)