LONG POST:

I was about 12 years old, my mom told me that we were moving away from the only city I'd ever known. I wasn't having it, frankly. Somehow my grandma convinced her that I -needed- a dog. Not only would it sweeten the deal but it "just made sense", she said. We were moving out of a tiny apartment into a house out in the desert. It's a rural town, everyone has dogs. Plus I could use at least one friend to start out.

Fast forward several months, and my parents drove me out to a tiny little farm tucked up inside a slot canyon, just over the border in Colorado. A woman greeted us at the gate and led us inside a small fenced grassy area, then disappeared into her barn. Minutes later she reappeared, being dragged by this scrawny little puppy with giant paws and a droopy face, practically choking herself to death as she clawed her way towards us.

Queen Cleopatra of the Aotearoa (my dad is from New Zealand), Cleo for short, was born on May 4, 2005. Her parents were both champion title holding, pedigreed Great Danes. Her four other siblings had been snatched up almost immediately by people in the show circuit, but Cleo was totally ignored. Blue merle coloring wasn't accepted for showing at the time (I have no idea if this has changed), and she was the runt of the litter, so no one wanted her. The breeder was desperate to get rid of her, so she sold her to us for only $200 instead of $1500. She became my best friend the moment I was handed her leash.

Cleo was the sweetest, most intelligent, gentle, and dignified dog I have ever met in my life. She had so many odd little quirks, like the fact that she didn't lick people, at all. Not even when they had food in their hands. She also refused to do her business where someone could see her. If you let her outside she would go to the far corner of the yard or around the side of the house so no one would see her. She was obsessed with car rides. Whenever we went anywhere with her, she would put her front paws on the center console of my mom's Expedition, and butt her head against the sun roof until someone opened it for her. I have a dozen photos of her riding down the middle of highway 40 with her head out the roof and her lips blowing in the wind. She never drooled on us once. She was also protective of us kids. She would never get aggressive with anyone, and I never once saw her snap at a person, but if there were strangers nearby she would come over to wherever one of the kids were sitting and lay on the floor in front of them, essentially creating a block between us and whoever was there. There was a least one night that I was home alone, and someone came to the house that wasn't supposed to be there. They came to the front door and (for some reason it was unlocked) opened the door, and tried to come inside. Cleo leapt up and started howling (she never barked), her hackles raised, and chased the guy off the property. She turned right around at the end of the driveway and came back inside. She wouldn't leave me alone the rest of the night. Who knows what would've happened if she hadn't been there.

I have so many more stories of her, and one of these days I'll probably write them all out. The average lifespan of a Great Dane is about 8 years. They're huge dogs with not exactly huge hearts, so their bodies just age a lot faster than other breeds. Cleo's parents made it about 7 or so, her siblings all lived to be between 4 and 6. We didn't know what to expect from her, but we decided to just love her intensely, come whatever may.

My Cleo passed away on August 14, 2017, from old age. You read that right, my baby lived for 12 WHOLE YEARS! And god she was so so loved. There wasn't a single person that came to the house that didn't just fall head over heels for her. Even in her old age she was still the life of the house and pretty much the crown jewel of our family. She is so desperately missed. It's been four months and I'm still literally bawling my eyes out writing this.

We buried her on a friend's property out in the desert hills. If you climb to the very top, in one direction you can see all the way to Red Fleet, in another you can almost see all the way to Flaming Gorge. From the other way the entire city is spread out beneath you and at night it looks like hundreds of scattered stars glittering away. If you know where to look you can even see our neighborhood. Cleo has a hand carved, sandstone headstone, a dozen solar powered light up hummingbirds flanking her grave, and the whole thing is covered by flat sandstone slate rocks that every single one of us dragged out of the ground ourselves and placed.

She will never be replaced, and I couldn't forget her if I wanted to.