Cheyenne

A week ago today, Cheyenne crossed the rainbow bridge. I know I should be completely over her passing by now-she wasn't my dog, but I'm not. My baby is still reeling with a huge whole in her heart and I can feel her pain. As much as I'd like to, I can't wave a magic wand and make her loss disappear but I can remind her of the good things Cheyenne accomplished. First of all, I've never been a fan of Pit Bulls. They have a bad reputation for being strong, quick tempered, and violent. I never saw any violence. She showed amazing patience with my dogs and grandson. I was really nervous having her around my grandson, but they adored each other. Every where he went, Cheyenne would follow three feet behind. Close enough to get to him in one jump if he called for her to get a stick(he knew she loved them) or if he needed help finishing a sandwich (he didn't like the crust and she didn't mind disposing of it). She was incredible playing with my much, much smaller dogs. She even understood "be gentle with granny" a phrase I used when I had a headache and couldn't quite take her jumping up into my lap. After telling her to be gentle, she would climb slowly into my lap and sit quietly for as long as I needed her too-sometimes we would even take a nap that way. She never begged for food-oh she would look loving at you with those gorgeous golden eyes, but she wouldn't bark or beg. She taught a lot of people not to buy into the hype that the media gives to her breed. I've never seen any dogs do the tricks that she did. Climb under the chair or over. Stay and leave it. Bark. Use your inside voice(which cracks me up just thinking about that huge dog barking in a whisper). Fetch. Sit. Roll over. Shake. Give me five-up high and now down low. She did it all and took a part of my heart with her.