Last November, I mentioned not wanting to sound like a country music song. I guess we all have those times. I’ve thought about what to say many times over. I’ve tried editing myself to keep it short. If you get bored or too depressed, just skip to the end. I’ll do a quick summary.
The last five or six years have been hard. I mentioned that my mom passed away last year. Her health had been decent, but mentally, she’d been slowly slipping away. What I didn’t mention was that I moved in with my mom because of a pending divorce. I moved back to our small town and I felt like I was in one of those Hallmark movies. (Unfortunately, I’ve got no old flame to find and fall in love with again.) That wasn’t easy, but if I hadn’t been living with my mom with my daughter, Medicaid would have taken my mom’s home when she passed. It made me feel like there’s a reason for everything and I was able to be there for my mom when she needed someone.
And here’s where it becomes a country song. Shortly after my mom passed, my dog began drinking a lot of water. I’d give her a bowl and she would empty it a couple of times and even lick the bottom like she’d just walked through the desert. I took her to the vet. The vet sat with me and told me that my dog’s liver was failing. She would have to be on medication for the rest of her life. I think I was in denial before the conversation was over. I had to choose to let her go last October. She was eight.
Before I got my dog, I saw the movie A Dog’s Purpose. (It’s currently on Netflix, but I will never watch it again.) A corgi falls in love with this beautiful Landseer Newfoundland. It’s mentioned later that the Newfie went to the vet and never came home. Man, that made me cry. My dog was a Landseer Newfoundland.
Of all the hits in recent years, the loss of my dog is the one that I struggle with the most. With my mom, I wasn’t the only mourner. But this dog was mine alone. I took her to vet and grooming appointments. I took her for all her walks. I alone did all her training. She was my peace amongst the storms. There were many times when I felt like she was the only one who listened to me. It wasn’t until she was gone that I realized that she was my ride or die.
Okay, so I could talk about my dog all day. She was beautiful. Strangers would pull over in their cars to ask about her. I never knew how many people were afraid of dogs until I got her. I was told she looked like a bear, but honestly, she’d roll on her belly in seconds. She loved people. She was so smart and could learn any task with the offer of a treat. At times, she gave me a look of open adoration that I think we all need in this life.
All this, and I still feel fortunate most days. I find joy in appreciating what I do have. I have a large supportive family. I’ve got a very smart and beautiful daughter. I have the fifteen-year-old cat that hated my dog. We still have my mom’s house.
TLDR: I got divorced. My mom passed. My dog passed. I’m still here, maybe a little dented, but with a greater knowledge of my own personal strength.
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