A Chinese word for Beautiful

She was born in spring 2009. When I brought her home in August, our first summer with our new golden retriever puppy marked the beginning of an adventure that we are still living twelve years later. My wife fell in love instantly, and her response when I asked her the Chinese word for beautiful gave our new puppy her name. Mei Li was home with us to stay.

That first summer was quite an adventure indeed, from house training to chewing up everything in sight and our daily obstacle course races of trying to catch her and clean her up when she came in from outside covered in dirt snout to paws. She won those races most times and left us with the job of cleaning up not just the puppy but the floor, the couch, the coffee tables, ourselves, and so on. We could never get mad at her, though. All she had to do was look at us with that wide-mouth smile and innocent eyes, and we could only laugh.

Like we laughed the first time we took her to the beach and discovered she was afraid of the water, a golden retriever fearful of the water, something I'd never heard of. Every time we tried to coax her in, she ran away with her tail between her legs. "Our dog is defective;" I chuckled to my wife. Fortunately, after a few visits, she eventually got brave enough to go in, and she loved it. All she needed was patience and gentle encouragement to entice her to become the water dog she was born to be.

If I had to guess on her behalf, I would say summer is Mei Li’s favourite season. As much as she loves soaking up the warm sun, chasing animals around the garden, going for long walks in the ravine and taking drives up north to hang out at our friend's cottage, I'd say what she loves most is people.

Summer is when she sees the most people. We have friends over for BBQs quite often during the season, starting with Mei Li's annual birthday party in May, when all her dog friends are invited, and all their people tag along.

She loves being outside, but sometimes it's just too hot, so she can't stay out for more than a few minutes. Those days she spends mostly lying on the floor near the a/c vent and chilling. On warm summer and early fall days, when she can stay outside, I will sometimes leave her in the locked garden for a couple of hours while I go to work, 10 minutes away. When I get home, I drop my keys and briefcase by the door and walk out to the patio to join her.

Imagine my surprise on the day I saw her smiling at me from the other side of the chain-link fence that separates our property from the ravine. There she stood, covered in dirt from her toes to her belly, her coat matted with twigs and burrs, and a dried ring of mud around her snout. She had dug a hole in the soft ground under the fence and set herself free. She was free to wander and dig in the dirt, and I was left with the consequences. Job one – clean her up. Job two – fortify the fence so she couldn't escape again. Job one was pretty easy, job two not so much. I spent the afternoon fixing and reinforcing the fence and surveying the rest of the property to ensure there were no more weak spots, only to discover the next day that the little Houdini did it again. She found a different escape route and once again was smiling at me from the other side when I got home, even filthier than the day before.

Another adventure my wife and I enjoyed in fall was going for walks in wooded areas or driving north to see the changing of the leaves. When we arrived at our destination, we would park the car, and the three of us would go for a hike. Mei Li loved those hikes. The crunching leaves under her feet, chasing the ones falling from the trees, the occasional squirrel, and mainly just enjoying being with nature and with us.

I mentioned earlier that I'd guess Mei Li's favourite season would be summer, but I'm rethinking that. She loves winter as much or more. Whenever there's a snowfall, she loves to be out there—catching flakes in her mouth, throwing herself down in the banks to make snow angels, and jumping around the garden through the piles of white powder.

I'm reminded of a time when our niece and nephew came to visit from California at Christmas. We took them sledding in the park behind the house. They had never been before, and they loved it. So did Mei Li. She had a wonderful time jumping all over them as they were sliding downhill and slid down along with them. She's been sledding many times with us since and loved it every time.

Another great winter memory I have is not really related to winter in anything except the date. February 19, ???? It was our 10th wedding anniversary. We had a ceremony to renew our vows at home in our living room. It was a special day for us, made even more special by the fact that our girl was there with us, front and centre. The fact that she chewed up my wife's $500 shoes when we were gone out with our friends and family to our reception is entirely irrelevant, and we choose not to remember that part.

Our girl is a senior now, 12 ½ years old. There’s no more sledding for her. There will be no more hikes in October or swims on the beach in August. The sunny summer golden of her muzzle has turned snowy white as she settles into the last season of her life. The spring in her step has slowed to a winter trudge. The sparkle in her eyes has faded, but the love is still there. She's tired now, and she spends most of her time lying around, close to wherever we are, always close to us.

It seems there will be no more little adventures with Mei Li. Some may say we haven't had any adventures at all. We haven't travelled the world with her, gone mountain climbing with her, or done anything that could be considered spectacular.

I would have to disagree with those people, though. We may not have given her the experience of a big adventure, but she has always given us the greatest adventure of all; the shared life, love, and loyalty of our beautiful golden girl.

She's old and tired now and I fear that the hardest day of my life is coming soon. I am fearful for that day to come but I will never regret one minute of the time spent with her and her unconditional love.