So Many Angels

Last week, when I read that the infamous Schoep crossed the Rainbow Bridge, I began to weep and I could not stop. I ran across the beautiful photo of John's dearest friend resting on his chest as the two coasted in the water; an act described to help ease the aches in Schoep's senior joints. While it was only a snapshot of their life together; I was moved by their bond and have the two of them to thank for a few good months with my Lug in our own home. Finn had been getting acupuncture and chiropractic care to keep him in tip top shape but I had never thought of laser therapy until reading about Schoep and John. And, the article came at the right time because I was spending a lot of time snuggled up with Finn, crying because I could feel him giving up after he refused a couple walks. And, my Lug adored his walks. But, after we started laser therapy, he bounded up the stairs again like a puppy.

Like so many other animal lovers who have silently cheered on Schoep and John from afar; I mourned for John's tremendous loss because I could barely function the days following Finn's passing. Getting out of bed was sometimes too difficult and I would find myself wandering around my neighborhood, freezing, with Finn's leash and collar in my pocket.

My family and friends never asked me what they could do to help me; they just showed up and cooked me dinner or let me sleep in their guestroom with their own dogs. I received a call from the crematory letting me know that Finn's ashes were ready and while I had planned to wait for my mom's arrival to make the drive to Hinsdale; I felt a deep need to have my Lug at home, with me, where he belongs. So, I drove out to the suburbs and even with a GPS system got myself turned around somehow. I found this lovely little street filled with antique shops; I opened the door to one, thinking that maybe, just maybe they might have an urn that would be fitting for my Finn. It had to be perfect but I was terrified to speak, as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and did not recognize the lost soul who looked back at me.

A large, white-haired gentleman sat behind the counter and kindly asked me if he could help me. My head hung low and my shoulders were hunched over as I tried to tell him that I was looking for something special to hold onto what I still had with me of my soulmate dog. The man walked around the counter and picked up a beautiful dark grey, speckled urn with a gold ring painted around the lid and I asked him how much it was. The human angel standing in front of me placed the urn in a bag and held my hand as he said "God bless you" and I could barely walk out of the store I was so touched and the tears poured down my cheeks.

I think the hardest thing about losing our amazing dogs is that when we cry; they never try to fix it, they never grip our arm and try to stop the tears. They just listen, sometimes lick our hands or walk next to us until their bodies are too frail to do so. Then, we sit with their heads in our laps and stroke their fur to thank them for all the years they have been by our side.

Finn, Goldie, Sadie, Sonny, Sammy, Dink, Fannie, Guinness, Opie, Sherman, Chyna, Lexi, Reggie, Albert and all the other incredible dogs out there who have forever changes the lives of their people; please welcome Schoep with open paws. Take good care of him, he was a very special dog. And, Gavin and I hope that the people John loves most will be by his side and others give him the privacy he needs to tend to his heart.