I write today with a heavy heart. Last week my dog, Tupper, passed away in my arms. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I knew the day would come, I have dreaded it since she began to gray around her muzzle.

She began suffering from kidney failure last year and I watched her slow decline over the past seven months. It was heartbreaking to know what was ahead. She was a strong, old dog though. I admired her will to live.

Ever since my first day with her, she awoke with a smile, a tail wag and a good morning stretch, even in her last few months when she must have been feeling lousy. I knew it was time for her to say goodbye last week, when the smile, tail wag and stretch did not happen.

As I reflect on her life with me, one of the things I think about is how much she enjoyed being outdoors with me. For 13 1/2 years, she was my best outdoor companion. She was the only one who was always up for a walk, hike, run, car ride in the country, a swim, beach combing, boating, camping, fishing or any new adventure, no matter what. We spent many hours outdoors together. I credit her for keeping me healthy. She would sit and stare at me until I finally relented and took her for a walk, which was at least two times per day. We always took long walks together, until recently, when her old joints no longer cooperated.

She was a great outdoors dog! Her favorite activity was hiking. Since we have always lived near lots of open space, our afternoon walks were usually hikes in the woods. I always admired her ability to scale cliffs and steep terrain. She flitted up the rocks with ease, as I struggled to find my footing. Like any good companion, she never complained about having to wait for me at the top.

After I met my husband, we became avid backpackers. We even bought a pack for Tuppy, so she could carry her own food and bowl. I think back to those days and remember how she lead (she always had to be the leader) us along the path, totally in dog heaven. She would go ahead a bit and wait for us to catch up; she was patient like that.

She was an extraordinary dog. Everyone who met her loved her. They would say she was cute or beautiful and ask her breed, which I never knew for sure (the various vets said she was part Basenji, German Shepard and Smooth Collie). They would ask her name, which was always an interesting conversation. I would say "Tupper" and they would say "as in Tupperware?" I always had to explain that I named her after Tupper Lake, New York, which is a huge lake in the Adirondacks, one of my favorite places.

She was welcome at all our friends' and families' houses. She was gentle and kind. Her outlook on life I envied because she was always content with it. Perhaps it was because she was a pound puppy and ever since I adopted her, she always felt safe and happy. Perhaps it was because she was an old soul, wise beyond her years and thankful for each day. I will never know for sure. I do know that she was gift and she enhanced my life and that of my family's.

As I write this, I am thinking that it sounds as if I am writing about a person, not a dog, and that people might think it's strange. But Tupper was like a person to me. She was there for me in times of happiness and pain. She moved to different apartments with me while I was in grad school. She traveled all over the country with me. Was there when I met and married my husband. She welcomed my two children, with distress I must admit, into the family and accepted and watched over them. She was more than my best friend, she was my true and loyal companion.

So as I say goodbye, I will always hold those fond memories of her running along the trail, the beach, or the edge the pond in my heart. As a I long to give her a hug around her neck, rub her soft ears or hear her nails clicking on the floor, I will always be thankful my TuppyTup was in my life.