After eighteen wonderful years, saying goodbye to Merida has left a raw, aching void in my heart. I remember the first time I laid eyes on her during a difficult period in Sevierville. My wife had just found her in that eerie pre-dawn chill—wrapped in a tarp at the back of a truck. The owner planned to put her down, finding her a mere inconvenience after she was hit by his vehicle. The mere thought of it still sends a shiver down my spine.
In those frantic moments, we rushed Merida to the vet. Her injuries were heartbreaking: two broken legs, glass embedded in her fur, several teeth missing. She was a mess, but my wife and I were determined. We slept on the floor beside Merida during her recovery, feeling her breath as we lay there. Our kids, who grew up alongside her, piled in too, offering her comfort with their small hands and whispers. That $4000 surgery seemed insurmountable, but as steel plates and screws became part of her, Merida never lost her spirit.
Thirteen years beyond what the vet predicted, Merida was more than a pet; she was a steadfast family member. From birthday parties filled with laughter to quiet nights by the fireplace, her presence was a comforting constant through three homes and two counties.
To honor the life she shared with us, I've decided to set up this fundraiser. I want to cover her memorial expenses and create a garden in her name, a place she would have loved to stretch out on those sunny Knoxville afternoons. More importantly, I hope to start a foundation to help dogs experiencing homelessness downtown, sharing a piece of the love Merida showed us with those wagging tails in need.
