dog meet world

As you guys know, Heidi, the family dog, passed away last month. Not too long ago, I asked the question, "How soon is too soon to get a new dog?" My mom was up for getting a new dog because she really missed Heidi. My sister was not so receptive.

But all of that changed a couple of weeks ago when my mom and sis had to dogsit for my brother's family dog. Dundee spent the week at my mom's house while my brother and his family went camping or some outdoorsy thing like that. Despite the fact that she was still hurting, my sister couldn't ignore the dog. She spent a lot of time with him during the course of the week, feeding him, playing with him, taking him on walks. She really began to miss having a dog around.

I know that people get over tragedies differently. And I really thought that my sis would be sad for a long time. But thanks to Dundee, the healing process was short.

After an unsuccessful trip to the Mission Viejo Animal Shelter, my mom and sis received a text from my brother over the weekend. Apparently, one of his friends has labs who recently had puppies and the friend was trying to find homes for the puppies. A lab would be perfect for my family--my mom thinks they are super cute and my sister didn't want another German Shepherd (Heidi could never be replaced). On Sunday, they checked out the pups and fell in love with one.

And now, making her blog debut is Jenny, the yellow lab puppy and the newest addition to our family.


Isn't she precious?

P.S. That is my mom holding her. I love that she still wears her wedding ring even though she's been a widow for most of my life.

how soon is too soon?

My sister was in the room when Heidi passed. Part of me is really glad that I am on the opposite side of the country. Another part of me really wishes that I had been there for my family. After all, Heidi was the family dog for over 10 years. Losing her has hit us all hard.

When I heard that Heidi had been put down, I rushed home after work and nearly hugged the life out of my kitties. It has really helped me to have them around. Whenever I start to think about how sick Heidi was, all I need to do is look over at Gracie and Nicky and I'm instantly distracted. I don't want to remember what Heidi was like in the final year of her life. I want to remember her as the happy, playful doggie she used to be.

My mom was talking to me the other day about her feelings regarding Heidi and her absence. Neither she nor my sister can bear going outside to the back yard, knowing that Heidi won't be there to greet them. My sister can't stand to look at Heidi's food bowl and toys. My mom can't bear to touch them or put them away. My mom seemed surprised by the hurt and pain she is feeling. "I didn't expect to feel so sad about losing Heidi. But it feels like we lost a member of our family," she told me. Maybe because we did.

Gingerly, I mentioned the idea of getting another dog. Heidi could never be replaced, nor would I suggest that. But perhaps rescuing a needy pup might fill the void that Heidi left. My mom considered the idea for a moment and then said, "I don't know if I can have another dog. Just to think, you spend all of this time loving and caring for a dog and then they go away and you're left with so much hurt. Why would I put myself through that again?" Touché.

Hmmm...methinks this is all part of the mourning process. I've said the same thing to myself many times after a failed relationship. But isn't that the point of life, to take a chance on love, hoping that someone will love you back? Isn't that what we all strive for in our pursuit of relationships (whether they be platonic or not)? And yeah, human love is different from the animal form, but isn't it sometimes better (I'm referring to the unconditional love that pets give)?

I've been spending a lot of time on Petfinder, looking for a new dog for my mom. There are so many animals in need. And I firmly believe that getting another dog is just what my family needs.

But how soon is too soon to fill the void Heidi left? How long does mourning need to be? I know I'm certainly not over Heidi's passing, but it certainly helps to come home to two precious kitties every day.

this post cannot convey the sadness i feel right now

I was 15. I'm not sure how it all started---the collective family desire to have a dog. We were a cat family first. Right around the time our last kitty passed away, we realized that the neighborhood was changing and not necessarily for the better. For that reason, owning a dog became a good idea. So my mom gave her ok and the search for the perfect dog began.

Eventually, after a couple of disappointing trips to the animal shelter, we answered an ad from a woman selling her german shepherd puppies. By the time we got to her home, one puppy was left. She was the runt of the litter, but she was ours if we wanted her. The lady called for the dog and down the stairs she came. She was a round mass of fur literally rolling down the stairs. Clearly, the puppy was a bit overweight. But she was happy and playful and so sweet. It was love at first sight. I know that's a total cliche. But there's no other way to describe what we felt when that puppy entered out lives. She was so chubby and precious. So what if she was the runt of her litter? She was ours now.

Heidi seemed to be present during many of my life's significant turns. She consoled me whenever a boy broke my heart. She celebrated with me when I got a full scholarship to USC. She exercised with me when I was trying to get fit. The thing is, Heidi was always there, always willing to share in the emotion of the moment, wanting to be a part of something big. Strangely, she was perfectly in tune with my emotions and always wanted to lend a paw to help me in any way she could.

When I moved away for college, it was really hard to move away from her. When my friends weren't available, I went straight to Heidi with my problems and she would always listen with a sympathetic ear. Did she understand me? Probably not exactly. But somehow she knew when I was happy or sad and sometimes the understanding look in her eyes was all I needed to get through. She always let me know that I wasn't alone. And now, here I was, moving away from her. What if she forgot me? What if every time I came home we would need to be reacquainted?

From the first time I visited home after moving away to go to college to the present, Heidi has never forgotten me. Over the years, whenever I return from a long absence, I am greeted by her happily wagging tail. It actually makes me feel pretty good that she still hasn't forgotten about me, even after I moved all the way across the country and only visit about 3 times a year.

Over the last year or so, Heidi's health has been deteriorating. At this point, her arthritis is so bad, she can barely walk. She moves so slowly and painfully that it breaks my heart. This last trip home was the most difficult. I nearly cried when I saw her. She looked old and sick. Whenever I approached her, she would get up very, very slowly. Despite my insistence that she stay down and that I would come to her, she still had that puppy sparkle in her eye. I knew she was excited to see me and the pain in her legs was no match for the excitement in her heart.

Knowing that this was my last time with her, I said my goodbye before I left. It broke my heart to do so. I wanted to be with her until the end. Somehow, I think this farewell was better for us. I did my best not to cry and instead pretended that this goodbye was like any other. I scratched and petted her until her heart was content. I offered her some treats, which she greedily took from my hands. When she became distracted, I walked away and didn't look back. This wasn't the way I wanted to remember her--the happy puppy imprisoned by her failing body.

What I'll remember is all the times she was there for me, all the walks we took, all of the games of fetch we played. I'll remember the tail that whipped around like crazy whenever I came home. I'll remember her cute puppy breath and her stinky adult doggie breath (which I was still strangely drawn to). I'll remember how she loved to hog my bed no matter how big she got. And I'll always remember the excited look in her eyes whenever we were together.



Good night, sweet Heidi-pup. May you have sweet dreams of chasing kitties and opossums forever.