River went by many names: The River Dog, The Princess and Momma Bear among them. But far more interesting to River than names—or really anything else—was water. She lived to swim, and swim she did at every occasion, from her trips to Lake Powell to our pool to streams to golf-course ponds to even the occasional hot tub. There was no rest for anyone when The Princess was around water, and that was ok with all of us.
Beyond swimming, we’ll always remember Momma Bear for:
• Proudly carrying her new rawhide treats sometimes for hours before devouring them;
• The way she talked to us through the adorable little grunting sounds she would make;
• “Only River knows for sure,” which is what we’d say for when it would be time for one of her stuffed animals to be torn to shreds;
• Her first bark in a series being much more high-pitched than the subsequent barks, particularly if she was caught off-guard;
• Nuzzling in our laps on the floor when we got home;
• Her “Lipizzaner” prance before she pounced on a toy;
• Her love for walks that she discovered later in her life;
• Her quiet confidence; and of course
• That cute little spot on the tip of her tongue.
We lost River to her valiant battle with lymphoma—a battle that we witnessed for a mere twenty-four days but one she was quietly fighting for months. We learned a lot from her about life, about living and in the end, about dying.
It’s been three months, and we miss her like it was yesterday.
River’s family,
Marc, Kristin, Brooke, Laurie & Meko