My husband and I met at a dog park. Two completely-over-it single introverts in their mid-to-late 30’s that just wanted to hang out with their dogs and not be bothered with the petty chit-chat of strangers or the ridiculous failed attempts at flirting by people we had no interest in. Obviously, we were meant to be! (Although, it is a complete miracle we ever had a first date, given our mindsets on dating.) I had two dogs, he had one dog, and shortly after getting engaged, we rescued a little dude from traffic. They were all boys and they were quite an eclectic pack.
My husband’s dog was the oldest and the largest of the pack. He was a calm, stoic, fiercely protective old bear. He and my husband had been living alone in their bachelor pad for nearly a decade. And then, here I came, with two silly dogs in tow. I’m sure the old bear wondered what the heck was going on…especially when we brought home the little dude after a trip to Costco. The old bear crossed the rainbow bridge just weeks before my first daughter was born. I swear she knows him. She talks about him as if she knows him well - his quirks, his habits, his bark, his super-stinky farts. She knows that he is in heaven but she occasionally speaks about him like he’s in the room. (If you think the baby growing in your belly is unaware of the outside world, I think this is proof that your baby most certainly does.)
All of us were sick for the entire month of December. From the first week until a couple of days before Christmas, we were all completely wiped out! It was awful! Right as the humans in our house started feeling better, the little dude's heart medicine stopped working. In an instant he went from doing okay to not being able to move, to eat, to sleep, to breathe. Two days after Christmas he crossed the rainbow bridge and our home was forever changed again. He was our lap dog. He was our cuddle-bug. He had been the baby-warmer through both of my pregnancies. Our girls adored him! Oddly enough, he was the alpha of the pack, even though he was the smallest living thing in our home.
By the beginning of the new year, I had convinced myself to set daily and weekly goals and to stay on track. (That’s how I handle loss - I, literally, work through it.) I was focused on my family, my health, my mental well-being, and cleaning up my house. Just as I was about to tackle the “work” side of my life, this blog and my doTERRA business, one of the remaining pack members passed. He was a big old boy with lots of fear and anxiety issues. He was a rescue that had been severely abused for the first year and a half of his life. He was difficult to like sometimes but he was always easy to love. He was not the brightest. He did things that could baffle you and infuriate you at the same time but he was the sweetest dog on the planet. He was an original, for sure! He had been a part of my life for almost 11 years. He had been my oldest dog’s best friend for those 11 years. They had NEVER been separated. And now, he was gone, too.
Now we only have one pack member left. My oldest boy, my fuzzy face, is still here. He’ll be 14 in June. I adopted him when he was only a couple months old. I adopted the big old rescue boy three years later. That was 3 full years of just me and the fuzzy face. He and I are rediscovering each other these days. I know that sounds weird but a crazy amount of life has happened in the last 7 years. We’ve been a bit distant from each other due to the addition of a husband and two more dogs and two kids, plus the transition from state to state, from home to home to home to home to home…. He was my protector. He was my best friend. He was my running buddy. We’ve completed, literally, hundreds of miles together, through the beautiful forests of the Pacific Northwest, across the glorious trails in the Rockies, and mile after mile after mile of city sidewalks. We conquered a lot of ground together. More importantly, we conquered A LOT OF LIFE together. He can’t run anymore and his hearing is almost completely gone. He also doesn’t see very well. But he would still gnaw someone’s leg off if he tried to harm me or my family. He is loyal and stubborn and smart and loving. And I pray his remaining days are wonderful. I hope I can fill the void in his heart left behind by the passing of his three friends.
My youngest daughter is too little to truly understand. She simply knows they're gone. My oldest daughter, however, is all too aware that two of her three furry friends now live in heaven with Daddy’s dog. In her words, they sleep on the clouds and are cozy. She is well aware she will never see them again, here on Earth. It’s been a month since the passing of the big rescue boy and over two months since the passing of the little dude. I like to tell myself that I’m doing fine. But the reality is, I’m still grieving. They are not just animals or pets to me. They are my children. They are God’s creatures that taught me how to put others’ needs ahead of mine, taught me how to love unconditionally, taught me how to forgive, taught me how to see the good in the damaged, taught me how to help mend the broken souls. They taught me how to be a mother. Our house is quiet now with only the pitter-patter of four pawed-feet. We’ve been contemplating getting another dog, maybe even a puppy. But for now, I need to sit with my running buddy, my protector, my best friend and treasure the time we have had and hold on to the moments we currently can share. Right now, he and I, with the help of the rest of our wacky human pack, need to grieve and we need to heal. I don’t know if I have a couple more years or a couple more months with my buddy but I do know I owe him my unconditional love, my never-ending loyalty, and my eternal gratitude for the lessons he taught me, the love he gave me and continues to give me, and the life he has shared with me.
