In Loving Memory
Addy Farrell
July 4, 2006 - July 22, 2021
Addison “Addy” Farrell, 15, passed peacefully in her parent's arms, on her favorite spot on the floor, on Thursday, July 22. She is survived by her parents, Bryan (39), Rachel (37), two brothers, Liam (6) and Connor (3), and countless grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends who loved her.
Addy was adopted from a Suburban rescue shelter in October 2006 when she was 10 weeks old. Suspected to have come from an abusive home, Chelsea, as she was originally named, was presumed to be a Beagle/Spaniel mix, although neither was ever confirmed. It was love at first sight when she and her would-be parents first laid eyes on each other. Rachel and Bryan had met and visited with a few other dogs before meeting Chelsea, including her brother, Diego, who jumped on them aggressively and peed on command. And although she smelled worse than one could ever imagine, Chelsea’s sweet, quiet, tentative, snuggly demeanor sealed the deal instantly. Although her parents didn’t live together, and neither one of them was allowed to have dogs in their apartments, they assured the rescue staff that all would be well, and the pair left with Chelsea to head home to the big city.
(re)Named after the popular Chicago Street, Addison, where she lived in the early days of her life, as a young pup, Addy was the sweetest, calmest dog. Scared of nearly everything, she could always be found cuddled in someone’s lap or hiding behind a leg. On walks, she would lay down, refusing to move until she was picked up. When crated, she would muster her Beagle-energy and howl until released. She would circle the bed and stand on her hind paws, popping up like whack-a-mole and scratching the comforter, until someone would pick her up and bring her into the bed. Addy slowly, but surely, came to trust her people, and her affinity for cuddles and rest became her natural “happy” state.
Save for loving treats and bones, Addy was never interested in “typical” dog-like behaviors. She was not great on the leash, as she would spend entire walks smelling every single tree, patch of grass, bush, or flower. She didn’t like to play fetch. She was unenthusiastic about toys. When taken to dog parks, she spent her time hiding under the bench her parents sat. She spent nights at dog-friendly restaurants panting in anxiety. While she loved the freedom of running around large open spaces when she would visit her family in Iowa, Addy was a homebody at heart. Although she liked to act annoyed when given too much love and attention, she was happiest with her humans, sleeping burrowed under the covers or on top of clothing, or perched staring out the window. She hated to be left alone and would travel room to room to be kept in close company. At the end of her life, when her legs had failed her, her humans lovingly carried her from room to room so that she was never left alone.
She did not take kindly or quickly to other dogs or humans, but once she did, you were part of her tribe. She fancied herself a guard dog, barking loudly and “ferociously” at new faces, but within a few minutes, she always warmed up. She never forgot a familiar face, and would never bark twice at someone she had met before. She truly was the sweetest, quietest, calmest dog.
After eight years as an only child, Addy became a big sister in December 2014, and again in October 2017. She was there to comfort her mom when she was sick during pregnancies or recovering post-partum, and she kept her company when Dad would travel. When her brothers came home from the hospital, she was curious, and always kind, giving lots of sniffs and kisses. It took her brothers a few years to really create a relationship with their sister. As they got older, she tolerated their “affection” and became less timid amidst their rambunctious demeanor. After spending the last year of her life in such close proximity, she began to retaliate with her alter ego, “Godzilla Addy,” when she would ignore the fact that they were playing in the space she liked to sleep—and instead walk straight through their Lego, Dinosaur or block creations without a care. Her brothers loved her, and they miss her. Their heartbreak and sadness at her passing is truly gut-wrenching.
Addy was an independent woman; while she begrudgingly tolerated her parents dressing her in jackets, scarfs, or Halloween garb when she was young, she let you know that she didn’t like it by refusing to move or just pulling it off herself. When snuggled too much or too often, she had a “look” about her that let you know she was annoyed by your attention, and ready to be left alone. If she wanted more of something, she let you know, whether it was by batting you with her paw, whining, jumping up to get your attention, or giving the occasional howl.
Addy was also a bit of a foodie. Meaning, if there was food being eaten, Addy was there. She could often be found beneath the kitchen island while the boys sat and ate their food. You could count on her to steal food right out of your hand if you weren’t careful. Though her parents suspect she was hard of hearing in her old age, the refrigerator opening or the crinkle of a wrapper woke her up and perked her interest, up until the very end. While her mom was often annoyed at tripping over Addy in the kitchen while she cooked any meal, that is the place where she will be missed the most.
Although she was old, she was generally healthy and in good spirits for most of her 15 years. Addy began her decline in 2020, as she suffered from Degenerative Myelopathy, a disease affecting the spinal cord, which results in slowly progressive hind limb weakness and paralysis. The degree and speed at which her disease progressed prohibited Addy from performing basic life functions, which ultimately is why her parents made the gut-wrenching decision to lovingly end her long, happy life—so that she could once again run freely and painlessly. Her family is thankful for the extra time afforded at home with her the past year and a half.
She loved belly rubs. She had the softest ears, like a rabbit’s foot. She has the best smile. She was beautiful, and sweet, and happy. Her big brown eyes told you everything you needed to know. Her presence was bigger than anyone realized—the void left even bigger. She will be missed beyond measure, mostly by her parents, Rachel and Bryan, who loved her so very much. She was everything they didn’t know they needed, and more, in a best friend and companion.
They will miss her snoring, her begging, her panting, her smile, the way she slept with her tongue out, how she ran in circles when she was happy…they will even miss the shedding of her beautiful white and brown coat. They will miss her presence, her companionship, her loyalty, and unconditional love. Most of all, they will just miss her. She really was the best girl. ❤️
Rest in peace, sweet Addy. We love you, and we'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge. 🌈