Cami was the first dog I ever really had.

Sure, Cami and Mikey were a package deal, I took them on and Bell took on the two kids (its always been a focus of debate as to who got the best deal), but Mikeys a bit standoffish, and he’s very much a Mama’s boy.

Cami, she always liked the boys.

The first time I met them was the day that I came over to Bells house, on our first date. I had asked her out at the petstore (theres a story behind me asking her out, one that a few people know, and one that is too off topic for this post, so go ahead and wonder about that) on a date the following Saturday.

She skipped over (she still doesn’t realize it) to get a piece of paper to write her number down. I swooned a little at that.

Anyway, I was nervous as hell that Saturday afternoon, having dropped the kids off at the Grandparents, with two hours to kill before whats effectively the first ever date I’ve had. I read a little, took a shower, changed clothes, watched TV, changed clothes, and spent the last 20 minutes meditating on a spot on the ceiling. Finally, I took off, got a good bottle of chianti, a cheap pair of sunglasses (that I promptly and immediately broke when I slammed the car door on them), and took off to meet my pet store girl.

Now, we’d never discussed it, but knowing her as an animal person, I figured that she’d have some sort of animal. I’ve never really had the best luck with animals in my life, and considered it almost a bit of a problem to a long termish relationship. Not a major problem, but something that’d take some adjusting to.

I pulled up to Bells house, expecting to see a cat, perhaps a smallish dog. When I heard the barking, I adjusted my thinking. It wasn’t smallish.

When she opened the door, she was holding back this beast of a rottweiler, and an almost beast of a beagle. They inspected me, got a cookie, and it was all good.

Thats when I met Cami and Mikey.

It didn’t take long for Cami to warm up to me. We’d sit out on the porch, Bell and I, and talk, and Cami would lean up against me as I scratched her back. Every once in a while, she’d hear something and tear off down into the yard, barking like a hellhound. Then she’d come back, and if I didn’t resume the scratching, she’d bump her head into my hand until I did. That was cool.

What was also cool was the morning time food dance she did. When the dogs woke us up, before the sun comes up, we’d take the dogs out and sit out on the porch, cuddling, talking, waking up. After a while, Cami pops up on the porch. She’d sit for a little while, but after a while she’d announce her desire for breakfast by getting up, walking in front of us, and then going around in circles, violently throwing her head up like a bull and snorting. I miss that.

One night, a coldish November or December night, Bell was working late, and I was out on the back porch with Cami. Mikey was doing his thing down in the yard, the kids were in bed, and I was sad. I was thinking about somebody I’d lost, and looking up at the stars to find her. I was talking out loud to her.

Cami walked up next to me, brushed up against my arm. I looked down, and she was looking right at me. In her eyes was wisdom and peace. I sat down, and put my arm around her, and she sat, and all of a sudden I found what I was looking for.

It just took Cami to show me. And in that, I healed unexpectedly, and I have never felt that pain, and that missing piece, since that day.

Thank you, Cami. Thanks for everything you’ve done. It has been a blessing to know you, even for just a short time.