Lada was named after the Slavic goddess of love, and it fit.
She came to us at age seven; a frequent flyer in the local animal shelter. She has been bounced from home to home. Every time, she’d come in sick and underweight. And every time, she’d go home with someone hoping for a forever home that wouldn’t materialize..
When I met her, she was sitting quietly in the back of her cage. No wags. No smiles. Just silence and vigilant eyes. But she came when called and didn’t flinch at all as we walked down the hall and dogs on both sides barked and snarled. That was Lada. The calm companion.
She sat by my side for seven years, living until age 14. She stayed full of life until the end, prancing around the yard, rolling like a warthog in the dirt, wagging her tail, and giving kisses.
No doubt, her hard early years left their mark. She was genuinely happy with the most ordinary days, companionship, and a spot in the sun. People always judge pit bulls… but Lada never met a person she didn’t like. To her, every human was a friend she hadn’t met yet. Even at 13 she was bouncing up at our block wall to say hello to the neighbor and poking her head over the top with zero comprehension that it might not be received the way she intended. But that was Lada. When her joy overflowed, she had the bounce of Tigger.
If there’s any justice in the universe, Lada’s resting comfortably, freed from the pains and challenges of an aging body and mind, and soaking up the sun.
You are loved, Lada. Thank you for sharing your years and heart with us. You will be missed.