06/10/2026
I didn't pick Selisha. She picked me.
She'd been abandoned where I worked, and after one year, leaving her behind wasn't an option.
After a whole life in a kennel, she should have been all wrong. Instead, she was all good.
She came to us at a hard time: in less than four months, Danika lost a leg and we lost both our cats. Emotions ran high, and there was anger and blame flying around in our family. And then there was her, being silly. She made us laugh when not much else could, and that got us through more than she'll ever know.
She was with us through it all: the moves, the rough times, the highs and the lows. She saw all my other animals come and go. Through everything, she was the one who stayed the same.
It's thanks to her that I became a Karen Pryor certified trainer. I'd been putting it off for a long time. My other two dogs didn't have the focus to get through the program, and she was 12, so I thought she was too old. Then one day I just went for it. For six months we trained together, sometimes up to ten sessions a day.
I got my certification, but that's not what I remember. What stays with me is how much fun we both had getting there together. She gave me one of the best times of my life. And because she was that good, at 13 she earned her Trick Dog Title Level 1 and her Cooperative Care Level 1 and 2. Not bad for a dog I thought was too old.
After that she retired. Her hearing was gone, her eyes were failing and her arthritis made tricks too hard.
Her nose, though, worked until the very end. She could find a single crumb anywhere. If you had something in your pocket, she knew, and she'd keep poking you with her snout until you gave it up. It became a running joke. People would say, "I don't have anything!" and I'd tell them, "Yes, you do. She's always right."
She was a carb dog through and through. Bread, pizza crusts, but also melon, watermelon, pumpkin, carrots. And apples. Oh, the apples. I started eating apples just so I could share them with her. Even when she was almost completely deaf, the moment I picked one up, she'd appear in the kitchen. I still have no idea how she knew.
And she loved car rides. Not the snoozing kind, the active kind. She had her seat right next to me and would sit up for hours watching the other cars. I swear you could see her following them as they took the exits or turned at crossroads. So now you know why my latest van has a bench instead of a passenger seat. It was for her, so she could be more comfortable.
And when I left without her? She'd go find one of my shoes or a jacket and take it with her to the chaise longue. That chaise longue was hers. I've never really managed to lounge on my own couch. Weimaraners are either on or off, and when Selisha was off, she wasn't moving from there. She didn't limit herself to my house either: every time we went to Italy, she managed to kick my father off his chaise longue too.
Selisha left us on September 6th.
I still eat apples. The bench is still in the van. The chaise longue is free now. And every time someone tells me they don't have anything in their pockets, I know she'd prove them wrong.
F***y, Christine and Nina, thank you for every treat you sneaked her and every blanket you tried to give her while she was still waiting for a home, even when it went against the manager's rules. We may not see each other anymore, but I will never forget your kindness.
And Rawad, thank you. You keep me seeing at my worst, and you still manage to let my animals go peacefully, at home, while taking care of me too.
And finally, thank you for choosing me, Selisha.
