Almost a Year

I vowed to myself that I would focus my energy on January 21st; the day my insanely enthralling Lug was born. But, announcing my emotional intentions and gripping onto the belief that I have any control over my sensitivity to the one-year anniversary of Finn's last day with me; on his robot bed at Gomper's Park, was foolish. As January 8th draws nearer, I think of how reciting funny stories of my Lug's zany puppy antics; recalling the copious, profound moments Finn and I experienced together that shaped us, me; and sometimes, sharing my tears have soothed my tattered heart. The basic act of carving out a window of time, every week, to do absolutely nothing but think, write about and celebrate Finn's memory has helped me walk along my new path; exuding my Lug's happiness, strength and his bright torch, rather than plodding through mud. I know now that Finn's light may have not shone as bright had he hurdled his entire body onto a different human being almost 15 year ago and that Gavin was just as destined to be my wingman as my Lug.

Gavin's first Christmas home was distinctly dissimilar from Finn's grand holiday entrance. The week before Christmas; the pandemonium Gavin caused by trying to chase Elvis out of the house; creating ruckus not only to the neighbors who live below us, but to both dogs' spirit and my heart. Gavin finally relegated himself to the bathroom, Elvis sat, confused, by my feet and I felt the tumult as I thought back to my intention days prior. Providing a temporary home for a dog in need was supposed to be a good deed for Gavin too. Despite the upheaval in routine and the craziness prior to our departure; Gavin arrived at my mom's house, merry and wiggly. Within minutes of unpacking my bags, Lil' Big Head was lying on the couch, with is belly in the air and his giant head resting on my mom's lap while she and I talked. I thought, perhaps, Elvis would weave into our lives but the innate comfort between Gavin and I was already there, maybe I needed to witness a moment of chaos to appreciate the strong ties between us.

I love telling the tale of Finn's first Christmas, because it truly reminds me of a scene from a Chevy Chase movie. When I opened the door to my childhood home; my Lug's toenails clamored against the foyer floor at the sight of our cat, Apple. Our cat dashed up the stairs and tried to escape the big goober chasing him by running up the Christmas tree. Finn was so focused on his pursuit that he followed Apple and was midway up the tree before I could even catch up to them. Wrapping paper went flying all over the floor, crushed presents sat at our feet and sparkly ornaments were whizzing past my head as the tree started wobbling back and forth. My brother Matt was faster than I was and was able to catch the tree as it fell into the fish tank before I had dead fish on my conscious and gallons of water to soak up from the rug. Matt literally had steam coming out of his ears. I sent Finn to the backyard for a minute to give my brother time to cool off and hopefully encourage my Lug to chase our dog Goldie, not the cat. Three months a city dog; Finn grew bored of the suburban fenced arena within seconds and decided it was more fun to climb the ladder of our above-ground pool and go swimming, in December. My Lug was paddling with oblivious delight to the fact that the winter liner could have easily wrapped around his big body and hurt him. Thankfully I was watching from the window and my dad begrudgingly rescued him. I dried Finn off, and he was then off to tackle my sister, giving her big, wet, slobbery kisses; carefree and clueless to the chaos he caused.

My dad invited Lil' Big Head to join our annual gathering at his bar and my mom's side of the family welcomed him to the party house on Christmas Eve. Gavin loves smacking everyone with his tail, wiggling for kisses and snuggles then darting off after his ball or me to show off some of his tricks. My cousin, once removed, Hayden was so excited to watch Gavin "wait" then "get it" with his squeaky toy over and over and over again. There's something about Lil' Big Head, he draws people to him. Every time I would look up, my cousin Margie and her husband were next to us and rubbing Gavin's shoulders. And, Taylor, my stepmother's granddaughter was trailing Lil' Big Head no matter whether he was tearing up cardboard boxes, pouncing on his tennis ball with the precision of a cat, waiting patiently by her mom's side for a morsel of meat to drop onto the floor or placing his paws on the pool table for a better shot at the game he was dying to play.

We were barely home for a full day before Lil' Big Head and I headed to the airport then Lake Geneva for my birthday and New Year's celebrations. The weather was so frigid but I was overcome with immense gratefulness for my friends who took time off of work, away from their babies (four-legged and two) and traveled across the country to chill out in a rental home with my dog and I. My friend Pam compiled years of photos into a video and as I sat on the couch in between Gavin and four of the most beautiful people I know; I fought the tears as I watched pictures, so many pictures, of Finn and I flash before my eyes. I know if I dropped the floodgates; I would have been surrounded by hugs, warmth and a deeply emotional dog, content to be accompany me wherever I go. But when Matt gave me a framed photo of Finn and Gavin for Christmas and I started crying; the sadness that washed over his face hurt my soul. I tried to tell my brother that I was crying because I was stirred by the warm sentiment behind his gift but I know Matt and in that instant, he thought he was the reason for my rain.

I will continue to let my tears wash over me when I miss Finn because there is a freshness after the storm that allows me to more deeply and freely appreciate Gavin, Lil' Big Head, the awesome sidekick that he is for the dog he is, not Finn, not Elvis. And, now that Gavin and I are back home and we are in a place in our relationship where the lines are blurred as to who is speaking and who is listening; my courage and sunshine balance my rainy, weak moments. My love for Finn is a living force that sustains me. Telling tales of my Lug and sharing the joys of learning about and loving Lil' Big Head has been such a healing process for me. I would like to open the Lug of My Life up to you and your stories about love and loss, two and four-legged, so that it may help you the way it has helped me. My last official post will be on Finn's birthday, January 21st, and it will certainly not be the last time I write about Finn or Gavin but I believe it is time for me honor Finn's memory by doing what I love most, helping others.