Amber A good girl, always

Amber came into our lives with her five other siblings. We let four be adopted by friends and relatives, and kept two, Max and her. Max, sadly, didn't stay long, lost to complications after his neutering. So it became just Amber, and in many ways, that was always how it was meant to be.

Born to Kayla, our golden retriever whom we'd raised from a pup herself, Amber was her own creature from the start. She had a strong build, her father Nikki's Rottweiler blood giving her a solidity that set her apart from her mother's more slender retriever frame. Her mother's warmth was there too, and something a little more stubborn underneath, a matriarch. She was never quite like any other dog we'd known.

* Amber, bottom left, her last family pic before we left for Davao, Dec 2025

We named her Amber after a beloved dog who belonged to a dear friend, both our friend and his dog have since passed on. Some names carry love forward.

She was with us from the very beginning of her life, and on Monday 6 April, a day after Easter, just past her thirteenth year, she left us after falling suddenly ill on Saturday 4 April. At 10.38 in the morning, her head resting in my palm, both of us beside her, we told her what she had always been. A good girl. 

She was never far from me. She always knew when we got home from outside. Even in her last years, when her hind legs had grown weak and the long walks were long behind her, she would still try to circle the car as it pulled into the garage carrying slippers, or even stones if she couldn't find anything else, that retriever gene still so strong in her. Still happy. Always happy to see me coming home.

Her world had grown smaller with age, as worlds do, but she never seemed to mind. From joining us to watch the sunrise, to camping out in the rural hills of Timor, her world eventually settled into something quieter and closer to home. Her favourite journey out in those last years was our short walk to take our garbage out to a nearby collection site, just around the neighbourhood. A small thing. One of the things I will miss most.

She had a way of asking for what she wanted without apology. A spoiled bark at the door when we'd left her outside with her pack. A sudden spike of excitement when she knew the meals were finally ready for her and the rest of her family, jumping and carrying on, absolutely certain that this, right now, was the best moment of the day. It is hard now to imagine that face won't be there anymore.

And then there was her stare. Gentle and tender. Anyone who sees their pets as family will understand exactly what I mean.

She leaves behind three of her surviving pups now have grown larger than she was; Elanise, Kibbie, and Denton. Four others were lost during birth. 

When I look at Denton now, I see her eyes looking back. Her gentleness, carried forward in Ella. 

People who have never lived closely with a pet, or in this case, a dog may struggle to understand grief like this, it's just an animal, they might say. But those who have known that kind of love understand that it is uncomplicated in a way that is genuinely rare. 

No conditions, no memory of old grievances, just happiness every single time you walk through the door. Amber gave us that, every day, for her whole life.

She is resting peacefully now in front of our home, in the front yard garden she loved to walk around in. Thirteen years of loyalty, of gentle eyes, of boundless joy over the smallest things.

Bye our little girl Amber. You were so loved.


Past article, Our gentle giant Amber