The Wild Heart of Tyrian

Some dogs are just dogs. They wag their tails, fetch the ball, and cuddle up when the day’s done. And then there are the others...the wild hearts, the unique ones, the misfits who burrow themselves so deep into your life that when they’re gone, everything feels off-balance.

Tyrian was one of those.

She was feisty, a little wild, and quirky. Afraid of shadows, floor vents, and sometimes the cracks in the sidewalk...but would happily charge at the vacuum like it was her sworn enemy or nip at Harold’s butt as he mowed the lawn. She’d chase birds in the yard with a kind of reckless joy and played catch with her ball like her life depended on it. She liked to burrow between your legs or under your crossed knees and plop down right on top of your feet, like she couldn’t get enough of you. 

She didn’t really “do” other dogs, and she didn’t much care if you liked her. She had kind of a cat vibe...independent, not overly concerned with your opinion, and only affectionate when it suited her. But she made an exception for Lou, our other dog. "Lazy Lou", we call him. He’s as laid-back and loyal as they come, the polar opposite of Tyrian’s intensity. And somehow their chemistry worked. He was the only other dog she ever truly accepted, and even then, it was on her terms. But she let him in, and over time, they carved out their own quiet bond. A rare thing, and a sweet friendship.

Harold got her at a week old. She was the runt, and it showed. Not in strength...she was strong and fast and full of fire...but in that deep attachment to him, possibly because her mom didn’t take to her when she was born. But Tyrian sure took to Harold. She’d follow him room to room, never more than a few feet behind. She'd stare straight into his eyes like he held the whole world. And honestly, I think he did...for her.

She loved me, too. We had our own thing, and when Harold was gone, I became her anchor. But the second he walked back in, she’d trot past me like, “Thanks for your service - Hasta la vista,” and glue herself to his side again. No guilt. No hesitation. Adios Amiga!

I knew where I stood with her.  I took what I could take...and was happy with it.

She had sultry eyes, a beautiful purple merle coat, and a mix of sweetness and mischief that made her one of a kind. She wasn’t easy. She never pretended to be. She was particular, sometimes unpredictable, and had zero interest in pleasing anyone but Harold...but she was pure love in her own wild way. She liked to control the chaos. She’d gather people up in the house like we were her own personal herd, settling down only when everyone was in the same room where she could keep an eye on us.

Our sweet girl passed away recently, with all three of us...Harold, Lou, and me...surrounding her with love and light. It was peaceful. Sacred, even. A little soul closing her eyes for the last time while wrapped in the warmth of the only pack she ever trusted.

We are heartbroken. There’s no softening that word.

The three of us...Harold, Lou, and I...we take long walks, sit in the house together, and we talk about Tyrian. We cry, we laugh, we snuggle together, and we remember her quirks and her soul. We let it roll out of us in waves because it helps. It heals. It doesn’t replace her. Nothing can. But it honors her.

The morning after she passed, a bald eagle flew right in front of our windshield as we drove down the road. Almost close enough to see every feather. Close enough to make us stop talking mid-sentence...and stare in awe...no question of the divine sign we just received.

You can believe what you want. But I think that was her...free, bold, a little dramatic, and impossible to ignore. What a gift that was!

If you've ever loved an animal like this, you know what I mean. The ones who come into your life not just to cuddle or keep you company, but to teach you something about loyalty, independence, presence, and wildness. The ones who make you better just by being exactly who they are.

Tyrian wasn’t perfect. But she was perfectly Tyrian. And we wouldn’t have had her any other way.

Love you forever, girl.

Love is ALL there is,

Diana