Welcoming the Furry Friend
I must admit, I’m a terrible decision-maker. Something as simple as choosing between tacos or pizza, beige or gray, or the beach versus Boston can send me into a dizzying tailspin of confusion and indecision. So, when faced with a decision of life or death, you can only imagine the internal turmoil I experienced.
It was about fifteen years ago when I found myself sitting in front of a computer screen, perusing an animal rescue site. And there she was – little bitty ears, bright eyes, and a playful face that I knew we had to have. Without hesitation, we packed up the family van with a clothes basket and blanket in the back and drove to the Franklin County Animal Shelter in Belvedere, Tennessee.
In the front office, we met the little black and white pup we had seen on the screen. They had affectionately named her Bonnie, and she was the unofficial office pup, scampering freely with her furry partner in crime. Bonnie had had a rough start – abandoned, wormy, malnourished, and found wandering on the side of a busy highway, narrowly avoiding traffic. But now, she was playful and thriving, bouncing around the office, back and forth between our excited children. In the van and into the padded clothes basket she went, no longer Bonnie, but welcome home, Molly Ann Foster!
The Joy of Furry Companionship
We’ve always been dog-people, and Molly joined her big brother Zack, also a rescue. The next several years were filled with dog toys, backyard chases, treats, and snuggles. There was the occasional fishing-lure-up-the-nose-requiring-surgery incident, but mostly, it was just pure, unbridled joy.
Dogs have a way of bringing out the best in us. They’re our best friends, our kids’ best friends, and even our moms’ best friends. Molly was no exception. She was a constant source of love, laughter, and blessings for our family. The days turned into weeks, months, and years, and Molly’s presence became as natural and essential as the air we breathed.
The Difficult Decision
As I write this, I feel the weight of a hard day, week, and year. Today, I made one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make: to let Molly go. It was a family decision, made after discussions with the vet, numerous friends, and even Facebook advice. But I was the one who took her for that last, dreadful drive.
Honestly, it felt a little like betrayal. But it was also an act of mercy, compassion, and love. At the moment, it didn’t feel like love at all. It felt necessary, but it also felt like a hard, heavy, ultimate betrayal. Like I was giving up on her, when I was supposed to protect her and make the best decisions for her.
The Healing Power of Friendship
I’m thankful for a friend who called at just the right moment. A friend who loved Molly as her own, who had puppy-sat her on our first trip away, and who created so much excitement in Molly that it made her pee a little every time she saw her (a little too much information, but funny every time). A friend who had walked the same road and told me I did the right, loving, merciful thing. A friend who believes our pets are gifts from God and that we will see our pets again.
Remembering with Love
What would I say to Molly? That I’m sorry. That I tried everything, every medicine, every prayer that I had. That she was so good, so loved, so wanted. That she was beautiful and smart. She was chosen, and she was perfect. That I miss her already. That she had a good life, and her life made our lives better. What could be a better tribute for anybody? Your life made someone else’s life better.
I don’t cry often, but I’ve found myself weepy all day. At the vet, on the way home, in the middle of Sam’s, with every phone call, with every typed word. And that’s okay. It tells me that it matters, it hurts, it’s loss; but mostly, it’s love and privilege.
The Lasting Legacy of Dogs
I’ll always be a dog lover. They bring out the best in us and model unconditional love and acceptance. I didn’t write the following passage, but I wish I had. It captures the essence of what a dog means to us:
“And on the 9th day God looked down on his wide-eyed children and said, they need a companion. So God made a Dog. …God said I need somebody willing to sit, then stay, then roll over, then with no ego or complaint dress in hats they do not need and costumes they do not understand… Somebody who no matter what you didn’t do or couldn’t take or didn’t win or couldn’t make, will love you without judgment just the same.”
Dogs are a gift from God, and their unbridled joy has the power to heal our hearts and souls. As I navigate the loss of my beloved Molly, I find solace in the knowledge that her life made mine better, and that one day, I will see her again, running free and whole, waiting for me on the other side.