Wishes

After the layered holiday memories of my Lug battered my emotional stability; I was then surprisingly sucked into the undertoe again during the one-year anniversary of Finn's passing. I sobbed while I tapped out every word of my last post and found it fascinating that, after months of recalling memories with a smile and feeling so peaceful when I close my eyes and see Finn's goofy grin that, wham...knocked into the abyss. Again. But, once I read through my own prose a few times; I felt I said what I needed to say, walked with a lighter heart and was myself again. I had not realized how much of me slipped away when my Lug's health started to descend; it is nice to almost be back.

I started this blog as a way to share my healing journey. And, hopefully, let someone who is sitting alone, in an empty room, crippled by silence and wondering if the tears will ever stop, know, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Grief sucks and throughout this past year I have felt amazing one moment then in the next instant, could barely put one foot in front of the other. I even found my way to a grief counseling group and was stunned when not one, but two women shared stories of not liking their new animal at first.

Then, I met a dog named Cappucino, I liked him a lot. Lil' Big Head was instantly in love with me. After all the paperwork was finalized and I walked Gavin onto the sidewalk, I felt overwhelmed. But, the sensation was different than those first couple of moments with Finn. I was terrified I was going to break my Lug of a puppy because I was so clueless, no matter how in love I was. Gavin was a stranger who was coming home to live with me, bad or good and he was mine. My stomach started rolling as I drove, and I rubbed some hand sanitizer across my un-manicured dog trainer's palms while we sat at a light. I kept glancing back at Lil' Big Head, who looked quite cozy and thinking, "ok, I'm really doing this". Mundane activities like driving, that I easily I approached with Finn suddenly became awkward because there was this unknown creature with a history I would never know riding next to me. When I opened the lid, Gavin sniffed upwards into air with the most peculiar, pointed look on his face then shoved his nose right into my cheek. And, suddenly a slideshow of all the scary, sometimes downright bizarre and dangerous behavior problems I have seen over the years ran through my brain.

When we arrived home, I tried to play fetch with Gavin, but Lil' Big Head was hellbent on playing tug. I stopped the game because when Finn growled while gripping his ducky in his mouth; I knew his grumbles meant nothing more than he having a blast. And, I also had the carefree confidence that my Lug would never put his teeth on a human, ever. But, at the time, I did not know if the strange little dog sharing my house would consider biting me. As I was trying to put the squeaky toy into the cabinet; Lil' Big Head was overexcited and we had been a pair for barely an hour. I saw giant white teeth come at my hand but the clumsy puppy missed the ball and his head rammed into the bridge of my nose. Blood squirted EVERYWHERE. And, again, Gavin stared right at my face, his lips puckered tight while he trailed me to the bathroom and sat, waiting and watching.

I later learned what a curious little guy Gavin was and he was not plotting my death. And, as the months passed and we played, snuggled and listened to each other; I began to love Lil' Big Head. Last weekend, Gavin was showing off his ridiculously savvy dog skills while a client worked with her dog a few feet away to reduce her pup's fear of other dogs. I was watching Mindy, to assure she was not worrying or staring at Gavin. Mindy likes to bark, but that's all she is capable of. As much as I love my job; I would never put Gavin near a dog I thought would hurt him, never. Completely focused on my client and her dog, I could feel Lil' Big Head's gaze. When they walked away for a quick break; I looked down and all I saw were those giant white teeth again. Gavin's smile took up his whole face and those beautiful, old-soul, cocoa-brown eyes looking to me for partially for guidance, but mostly, staggering adoration. It was in that moment, I realized how deeply infatuated I am now with Gavin.

I thought about my sad poem being my last post, but, I also felt strongly about wanting to say thank you to all

who have religiously read my musings over the past year. I am truly blessed. And, this day, back in 1999, my Lug entered the world. Finn changed my life forever, in the most fantastic way. So, to celebrate my Lug's birthday and all the joy he brought to my life; I have started volunteering again. And, Gavin and I went to the pet store to stock up on clearance holiday sweaters and toys; two of which he has already growled and ripped apart but I know this dog, he would rather chew off his own leg than to hurt anyone. I had taken a philanthropic hiatus because I injured my back and shoulder. Given the strength of some of the court case dogs coming out of their cages; I worried I would not be able to hold the leash and one of them would get into trouble. Gavin and I are also one step away from him being able to join events as an Ambassador Dog. So, I ask of you, if you have enjoyed these posts at all and want to give back in any way, Safe Humane is a great place to do so.

Thank you again for sharing our voyage. This certainly will not be the last time you hear about my Finn or my Gavin. I leave you with this beautiful quote from the book  Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief. Martha Whitmore Hickman's words have helped me tremendously every single day and I will continue to reach for it when I feel sad and miss my Finn:

"May this New Year be for me a time for music. And if I am able- later, if not now-may I hear in my heart the voice of my loved one lifted with my voice, to praise life, to hope for life, to join others on this circling globe in an "Alleluia", for the experiences we have shared and share even now, and for the ways beyond time and death in which we are bound to one another in gratitude and love."

Happy Birthday, my Lug, my soulmate, my angel. I hope you are swimming and chasing tennis balls today and forever, as you continue to watch over us.

Today, and Always

Today, I will light a candle.

One year ago, you looked up at me at me and for the first time, I saw suffering in your eyes.
One year ago, I doubted my decision.
One year ago, you wagged and wiggled when Sheila came for us.
One year ago, your insatiable spirit gave in to your frail body again.
One year ago, I knew another day would have caused you misery.
One year ago, I watched you twinkle your nose to the sunny sky.
One year ago, you ate treats at the park, your first meal in days.
One year ago, you happily wandered onto your bed and laid your face next to mine.
One year ago, I tenderly kissed your nose and whispered "I'm going to miss you so much".
One year ago, I gave you the greatest gift I ever gave you, freedom from pain.
One year ago, I knew that if I had another 13 years with you, it still would not have been enough.
One year ago, profound grief suffocated me when you closed your eyes for the last time.
One year ago, an odd sense of calm also washed over me because I felt you peacefully drift away.
One year ago, I was grateful that I had the courage to release you, for you.

Today, I will open my front door and see your sleepy eyes that just awoke from a deep slumber because nothing would have stopped you from greeting me at the door.
Today, I will place my hand on my heart when I look at the tree, our tree, right outside my window that still looks like a heart, despite the   blustery wind.
Today, I will smile when I look through all your bright-eyed, tongue-hanging-out-of-your-mouth, always happy pictures.
Today, I still sometimes cry an ocean because I miss you so much.
Today, I will give Gavin as much love as I can because I know I can only be sure of this moment.
Today, your spirit is etched into my soul.
Today, the gratitude I feel for the millions of happy memories I have of you and with you surrounds me with warmth.
Today, I wonder if you had anything at all to do with the unbelievably sweet dog who is snuggled next to me.
Today, I thank you for dedicating your life to me and years of mutual adoration.
Today, and, forever, I will love you.

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.