Remembering the Fur Kids

I am not an overly dramatic woman. Drama makes me cringe. But this month, it seems as though a bit of drama slipped just beneath our radar and approached with warning, but without welcome.

When Rob and I met, we both had fur kids. He had a spry 85 pound German Shepherd named Louie. Louie had the energy of four dogs and shed enough hair that I could have built another dog on any occasion. He was a love of a dog and though my watering eyes and sniveling nose would not permit me closeness to our big ol' Lou, I did enjoy seeing him with his crooked ears and feeling protected by the sheer magnitude of him. I was certain very quickly that Rob and Louie were a package deal - allergies or no allergies, if I married Rob, I was inheriting Louie:)

I, on the other hand, had a small, yappy four pound poodle. The complete antithesis of Lou, Molly sprang from spot to spot jingling ever constant behind me. She was groomed three or four times a year whether she needed it or not. She slept faithfully at my feet or on my head, depending upon her mood. Molly played like a champion and was loyal to a fault.


These dogs, whether we ever intended them to or not, rescued my husband and myself at difficult times and were definitely family members. Lou's health began to fail last year. We were prepared to put him down at that point. Because of the nature of his problems, he went to live at Rob's parents' home. He would stay with us while they were away and the last time he came to spend time, we knew that he was not long for this world. The day before Halloween, Louie went home to Heaven. We all grieved Louie's death. I thought the girls would be the saddest but surprisingly, when I explained he was whole again and could run and jump like when he was little, both girls were so happy.

Exactly one month later, Molly began breathing inconsistently and I was worried. She did not run or play, she struggled just to sit. An emergency appointment would confirm that Molly was in heart failure. So, the day before Thanksgiving, alone in the vet's office with just the vet and his wife, we allowed Molly to fall asleep forever. She too, is now whole, joyful and breathing easy.

I never noticed how much of my day revolved around this four pound wonder. In the past thirteen years, I have never closed a door behind me, I close it part way, wait for Molly to escape and then close it the rest of the way. I am still doing this. I keep looking for her when I don't hear the pitter patter of her little feet - she followed me everywhere. When I sit down, which is not often:), I keep bending to pick her up and lift her onto my lap. I know these habits will die hard, but they are encouraging to me that I did love her in the most precious ways while she was here with me.

So, today I am remembering the fur kids. I am thankful for them and the special times they brought to our family. I know that eventually, we will introduce a puppy to our family. In the meantime, I will continue to lick my wounds and remember our sweet pets.