You are the only person I know who can make me laugh and cry several times in one post. Your gift is awe-inspiring. There have been times in my life, including right this now, when my animals have given me perspective and joy. They help me hang on. Thank you.
Oh yes! Moving beyond belief, and so right. If you've adopted an animal, well, they've adopted you, too. That's a commitment made before God, or Whoever. When I had to leave my home, my job and the country I had lived in for twenty-five years to take care of a husband who was dying, very slowly, of dementia, I had to leave behind our two senior dogs and an old, baggy, misshapen cat. I had no choice. What I could do was choose to house them with people who loved and cared for them, and that I did. My West Highland terrier, the most arrogant, stubborn animal every to walk this earth, died less than a year later, without me ever seeing him again. My Cairn, the Goddess of Love, epileptic and blind, was heroically brought over to the States by my son. Her first night in the Bronx she saw off a drug dealer's pitbull. She lived three months with me before I had her put to sleep. All joy had left her. And the cat? She soldiers on, as lumpy as ever, back in France. Her new BFF is a German shepherd. She would never have made it to America; she rarely ventured more than ten yards from our house in Provence except once when she was catnapped by tourists who thought she was abandoned - she has a heart-rending miaow - and were going to take her back with them to the other side of France. She was rescued by my friend Frank who had been searching for her for days and heard the inimitable yowl from behind the door of an Airbnb. Now I have two comparative youngsters - Paulette, a floppy poodly sort of a thing who dropped from the sky into my lap the first time I was able to go back to France (My French vet "So you want another dog?" Me "Yes, probably, sometime soon." My vet "I've got a dog. Here's a photo." Me "I'll take her", and take her I did, the next day). She flew with me to Massachusetts three days later. And Tylo, a strange-looking animal sown together from different dog parts with a pig's tail. He came from Texas, supposedly, via the humane society, and is a goofy wuss with a huge grin and a very scary bark. May more dogs and happiness grace your life, Therra.
I hear you! I still miss my dog Jodie, my first Australian Terrier. When my first husband became terminally ill with cancer, he decided he wanted a puppy of this Aussie breed that he had in a previous life (marriage). So in addition to caring for him, I ended up raising a puppy. During some of the worst crazy days, I begged my friend Lavon to take the puppy off my hands. She flatly refused, knowing, I am sure, that the puppy would save me when I later needed saving. And she was right. After my husband died, Jodie was the only reason I dragged out of bed in the morning. Walking her got me out into the day and into the world. She was my best friend and companion. Several years later, she walked me down the aisle when I married my second husband, David. When she passed away, after diabetes, cataract surgery and cancer treatment, we both grieved her loss and will never forget her.
You are the only person I know who can make me laugh and cry several times in one post. Your gift is awe-inspiring. There have been times in my life, including right this now, when my animals have given me perspective and joy. They help me hang on. Thank you.
Oh yes! Moving beyond belief, and so right. If you've adopted an animal, well, they've adopted you, too. That's a commitment made before God, or Whoever. When I had to leave my home, my job and the country I had lived in for twenty-five years to take care of a husband who was dying, very slowly, of dementia, I had to leave behind our two senior dogs and an old, baggy, misshapen cat. I had no choice. What I could do was choose to house them with people who loved and cared for them, and that I did. My West Highland terrier, the most arrogant, stubborn animal every to walk this earth, died less than a year later, without me ever seeing him again. My Cairn, the Goddess of Love, epileptic and blind, was heroically brought over to the States by my son. Her first night in the Bronx she saw off a drug dealer's pitbull. She lived three months with me before I had her put to sleep. All joy had left her. And the cat? She soldiers on, as lumpy as ever, back in France. Her new BFF is a German shepherd. She would never have made it to America; she rarely ventured more than ten yards from our house in Provence except once when she was catnapped by tourists who thought she was abandoned - she has a heart-rending miaow - and were going to take her back with them to the other side of France. She was rescued by my friend Frank who had been searching for her for days and heard the inimitable yowl from behind the door of an Airbnb. Now I have two comparative youngsters - Paulette, a floppy poodly sort of a thing who dropped from the sky into my lap the first time I was able to go back to France (My French vet "So you want another dog?" Me "Yes, probably, sometime soon." My vet "I've got a dog. Here's a photo." Me "I'll take her", and take her I did, the next day). She flew with me to Massachusetts three days later. And Tylo, a strange-looking animal sown together from different dog parts with a pig's tail. He came from Texas, supposedly, via the humane society, and is a goofy wuss with a huge grin and a very scary bark. May more dogs and happiness grace your life, Therra.
I hear you! I still miss my dog Jodie, my first Australian Terrier. When my first husband became terminally ill with cancer, he decided he wanted a puppy of this Aussie breed that he had in a previous life (marriage). So in addition to caring for him, I ended up raising a puppy. During some of the worst crazy days, I begged my friend Lavon to take the puppy off my hands. She flatly refused, knowing, I am sure, that the puppy would save me when I later needed saving. And she was right. After my husband died, Jodie was the only reason I dragged out of bed in the morning. Walking her got me out into the day and into the world. She was my best friend and companion. Several years later, she walked me down the aisle when I married my second husband, David. When she passed away, after diabetes, cataract surgery and cancer treatment, we both grieved her loss and will never forget her.