I wrote this post on my former blog almost a year ago.
I saved it at the time because I knew there would be a day I’d want to revisit it.
We said goodbye three months, 15 days, eight hours and 27 minutes ago.
Tonight I am missing her terribly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
My pup is polyamorous. (She’s also an Independent Thinker…but that’s another post entirely.) She loves Mr. Fever, she loves me, she loves her kitties (yes, the cats are hers – not ours, lol), she loves everyone who comes to visit (because of course they’ve come to visit her – why else would they be in her house?), she loves the neighbor dog (they sniff each other and sing puppy love songs through the fence), and for some strange reason, she loves cheese…
She also loves her spa day. Which is how she got that purple bow on her ear.
She loves the doggy park, she loves car rides, and she loves – no, she LIVES FOR – her walks. Well, she doesn’t actually walk, mind you. She prances.
Sometimes, on her walks, she sees kitties (loves kitties!) or baby cows (loves baby cows!) or new sniff spots (loves to sniff!), and the happiness that emanates from her when she runs across these lovely things is contagious.
In a nutshell, my dog enjoys life. And she is full of love.
She’s not perfect. In fact, she has… Issues. Physically and psychologically. She freaks out if she’s left alone for more than a few hours. She has a deformed foot. She has arthritis in her hips. She is losing her hearing. She’s not as spry as she once was. But if anyone has ever aged gracefully, it is her.
She is a three-time veteran of the Humane Society. She was abandoned as a puppy, given up by her first adoptive home, and left behind when her second adoptive parent took off for another country. (Understandably, she has abandonment issues.)
Then she came to us. She became part of our family.
She’s been ours for over six years now. And we’ve been hers. We love her. She’s enriched our lives. And her attitude is admirable.
She’s taught us a few things. About appreciating the little things; they’re actually big things. About embracing new experiences with enthusiasm, regardless of past hurts. About living life to the fullest. And about love.
We all have our issues. Pain. Aging. Abandonment. We’re imperfect. Our bodies sometimes fail us. But despite all of this…despite our pasts, our losses, and our letdowns…we can still be enthusiastic, optimistic, and excited about life. We can still revel in our everyday experiences. We can still appreciate the good things in our lives. And we can still love. It’s a choice we make.
Sometimes people say, “Life’s a bitch.”
You know what? That’s an incredibly positive attitude as far as I’m concerned. Because if life is anything like my bitch, then life is all about love. Doesn’t get much better than that.
I’m sorry you’re without her now, Feve. I know that kind of loss.
Though there is the consolation of such good memories; it’s clear in what you say above. Those memories that will never leave you and she’ll continue to shape, teach, and influence your life going forward.
It hits me at odd times. An absence of something I can’t quite put my finger on, and then…
Ohhhh.
It’s a poignant remembrance, more than anything else.
She reminds me of my neighbor’s dog “Salomon”. I’m unsure of the breed, but looks similar. (Not exact.) Solomon always looks for my Guapo, and wants to play. But Guapo hasn’t exactly warmed up to him yet.
I’m so glad you remember the “good times”. <3
She was a Chow-Chow/Collie mix. Thus the little black swirls on her tongue. 🙂 If Solomon has the same look about him, and happens to have a marbled tongue, he’s at least part Chow-Chow.
And yes, I definitely remember the good. She was, for all her neuroses, the best fit for our family we ever could have imagined. An absolute sweetheart.
And ~ had the two ever met ~ I’m sure she would have been smitten with Guapo too. 🙂
Well said…love,
G
I have many fond memories of Buster. He was going downhill in his last year or two. He was completely or nearly completely deaf. You could tell the joints were hurting too. It was really hard on my mom when he died. She absolutely did not want another dog after him. We had him for 13 years. He was a malamute. My folks buried him while I was in school. It was winter and they had to build a fire to thaw the ground enough to dig. They were finishing up when I got home.
My comment seems to have disappeared. I hadn’t meant for it to sound so down so maybe it’s for the best that it disappeared. I remember with my dog, and I think it’s true of dogs in general, they live life in the now. It’s like there is only the moment. Sometimes I think we all need a bit of that.
Your comment didn’t get lost, friend. Sometimes WordPress is slow about updating comment status. Glitches and such. (I just hope the Evil Glitch from The Other Place never finds its way over here.)
And I agree, 100%.
Bark less, wag more. 🙂
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