Pippa Maus

Today, 1/21, I experienced the second biggest grief of my lifetime so far. I lost my childhood dog, Pippa. Pippa was a fierce girl who had so much love to give. She was a mutt that we adopted from a kill shelter up island. Going into this establishment, we knew we were not leaving without a dog. As we walked through the rows of cages, Pippa stood there and whimpered at us. Her siblings were too busy to even notice and focused on the food. Not Pippa—she chose us, and we chose her. She was our soul dog, given the name that was supposed to be mine. Pippa Frowein—she was our special girl.

We never had a girl dog, and somehow we were misguided in believing that boy dogs were better. Wrong. Female dogs are gentle, kind, and sometimes hormonal, but have a motherly instinct that is just to love—or at least that was Pippa. The first year or so was rather turbulent, however. She was a hound, after all—not a dachshund mix, as she was said to be. She had the wildest nose that took her in every direction, but always back home to us. She was brought back in police cars, dug through fences, and found the tastiest old barbecue on the beach. She was a free spirit, who loved to explore, chase rabbits, and swim in the bay. However, she was not a killer; she was just curious.

Pippa was there during some very tough times in our lives. She could feel that my dad was sick and stayed very close to him. She would snuggle herself between my parents at night in bed. When my dad died, Pippa gave us even more love. She would just lie around with us all day in bed, happy to be in our company. I loved that most about Pippa. She didn't need a lot. All she needed was her beach walk in the morning and some belly scratches throughout the day. Otherwise, she was happy to just be with us. She was there for me, she was there for Sebastian, and she was there for my mom.

For a while now, it's just been my mom, Pippa, and Klaus at home, especially since Sebastian and I have been away at college. She kept my mom’s spirits up and gave her love when she was alone. She slept on my dad’s side of the bed, warming a once-empty spot. She had this incredible ability to make any bad day better. I remember moments coming home sad, exhausted, or overwhelmed, with tears in my eyes. Pippa was always there to shower me in kisses and just lay with me for a while. She held our family together when we needed it most.

Pippa was diagnosed with an aggressive form of melanoma cancer three years ago. We put her through surgeries, treatments, and shots in hopes that it would extend her life. It thankfully did for a bit until September, when my mom received the news that her tumors were back and even more aggressive this time. The vet gave her two months left. At that time, I was in Rome, unsure if she would hold on until I returned home in December. My Pippa was a fighter, though, and she stayed strong. Luckily, I was able to spend a few more weeks with her until her body gave in. We knew that she was suffering from the moment she stopped eating her food and turned away from a fresh piece of sourdough bread. Her quality of life was coming to an end.

One of the hardest aspects of grief is the anticipation of it. Deep down, we all knew that she did not have much time left, and it was only a matter of how long. Thankfully, we were all able to be home together to put her to sleep in her favorite bed, surrounded by her family. It was the right thing to do, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. This death brings up emotions that have been buried for the past three years. The funny thing about grief is that it always feels the same—this guilt about feeling happy, the feeling of having a piece of you missing. It's a feeling that you can't explain until you experience it yourself. Today, it feels as if our family has gotten a little smaller again, and that's what seems to hurt the most.

Pippa was the most wonderful soul. I am forever blessed to have had her be part of our little family. She will be missed dearly but never forgotten. I know her spirit is running wild through high grass, eating tons of sourdough bread, and getting lots of love from my dad. They are our angels now, watching over us. It's true when people say that a dog's love is the greatest gift. I am so lucky to have had Pippa’s.

Rest easy, sweet girl.

March 25th, 2016 – January 21st, 2025