We got a dog and I have mixed feelings about it!
Excitement, guilt and all the feelings that come with saying goodbye and then hello.
It’s been a year and a few months since we lost our sweet French Bulldog Nuggy to a very tough stomach disease. Tommy and I got Nuggy when we lived in New York about 11 years ago after a spontaneous Google search while we sat eating tacos at Tacombi one Saturday afternoon. A search for ‘ethical pet stores’ (which I now know is naive and wishful thinking on our part) led us to a small pet shop in the West Village. I was immediately smitten with a dog that another couple was playing with so Tommy suggested we wait by playing with this pudgy little smush of a puppy that was sitting alone. An hour later, that pudgy little smush was cozily wedged between us in a cardboard box full of newspaper shreds in the back seat of a taxi cab as we took her home to our apartment in Chelsea. We loved her instantly and she became such an integral part of our family that it was impossible to remember life without her.
Over the years, Nuggy moved with us from NYC to LA, then LA to Portland, and back to LA yet again. She came to work with me at my shop in Portland daily, graciously letting strangers pet her (who could resist). She hiked with us in a little backpack, her head sticking out of the top. If there was a couch, she would be on it. If there was a cuddle to be had, oh she’d have it. She was pure love and everyone who met her felt it.
Her illness got worse and worse over the course of about six months until she became a shell of herself. Even now, thinking back to the night we knew it was time to say goodbye chokes me up. After 10 years of being our partner in crime and our daughter’s best friend, she was gone. For weeks I would spontaneously find myself tearing up while thinking of her. Like a phantom limb, sometimes I could almost swear I heard the sound of her tiny little toenails tapping on the floors as she ran to get an ice cube.
Clichés are clichés for a reason, and as they say, time heals all wounds. Yesterday, after much searching, both literal and emotional, as well as some strong debates, we brought home a new member of our family.
After a nice brunch and a 10 minute age-appropriate hike with the girls, we decided to swing by a pet adoption center just for kicks. Tommy sat with the girls in the car as the adoption center had an 18-and-up policy. When I walked into the adoption center, there were two or three puppies waiting to be picked up by their new families. I walked to the back room where the bigger dogs were playing and saw the face of a sweet looking Doberman that I asked to meet. While I waited for a handful of minutes for the dog to be brought out, a new puppy was brought to the front to go home. It was beautiful, calm and seemed so sweet. When I inquired about the pup, I was told that she was one of a few puppies remaining from a litter of Doberman mix dogs and that the other two remaining were with their foster mom nearby. She said she’d send me pictures of the two girls. Another chance encounter.
The girls were thrilled to meet their new dog, Rosie aka Row (named by Inez, nicknamed by Tommy), and spent the afternoon showing her around her new home, petting her and giggling as they played. We put the girls to bed and Tommy and I sat down on the floor to watch TV and cuddle with the tired and cozy pup. With her tiny head resting on my lap, I had a pang of sadness and guilt, as if taking in this new dog discredited my past with Nuggy. I asked Tommy if he thought Nuggy would be upset knowing we had a new dog and if my guilt was warranted. Tommy thoughtfully replied, “it’s like having a second kid- you don’t stop loving the first, you just love them both.”
Rosie is sleeping under my desk as I write this post, full of love, excitement, and gratitude. For both what’s already been and what’s to come.
xW
Whit ~ most eloquently written, thank you! You've perfectly captured my own feelings of loss (Scooter Bichon) and re-love (Max Havanese). Thank you indeed for sharing this.