Sammy
July 14, 1995 – April 22, 2006
Today marks the one year anniversary of Sammy’s death.
It’s been a year of emotional ups and downs. Tears, intense sorrow, guilt, depression and loneliness have mostly given way to acceptance, a lighter heart and even joy for having been blessed with a most incredible little dog.
So tonight me, my husband, son and the cats, Mazy and Mr. Biggles, will gather ‘round his grave and light a candle. We’ll bring the photo album and smile and probably cry as we take another stroll down memory lane.
And to Sammy, as sure as the sun shines, my heart beats and my love for you lives on, I know you are patiently waiting for our grand reunion.
So am I.
Gina
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Timing Is Everything
We’re fast approaching the one year anniversary of Sammy’s death. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. I still miss him. I still grieve for him.
So does my son. So much so, that he told me again yesterday that he never wants to have another dog. I know these are just the words of a raw, grieving heart, but I have to admit, part of me feels the same way.
This possibility of getting another dog came out of the blue this week when my husband happened to be at a local pet store he did consulting for. As he is speaking to several of the employees, a sheriff’s deputy walks in and serves them with an eviction notice.
Knowing they have puppies they will need to find homes for quickly, he takes a look at what is in the store. They happen to have a Westie with kennel cough in the back room, he informs me that night. I really like that particular breed. So, the seed is now planted.
I go by the shop the next day, without any real intention to “rescue” this puppy but more out of curiosity to test my feelings. Well, he is awfully cute (but aren’t all baby animals?) I tell myself and the store employees. I take him out of his crate and observe his behavior. Typical puppy stuff, nothing unusual or out-of-the-ordinary.
As I watch him run around, I ask myself, where’s that spark? Where’s the overwhelming feeling that I just had to take him home? You know, the one where you just want to gobble him up, hold him and never let his little paws touch the ground again?
Well, none of that was there. Coupled with my son’s insistence to never own another dog was as clear a message as I needed that we are not ready to make that commitment any time soon. The grieving process knows no time frame. When the time is right, we’ll know.
Warmest Regards,
Gina
So does my son. So much so, that he told me again yesterday that he never wants to have another dog. I know these are just the words of a raw, grieving heart, but I have to admit, part of me feels the same way.
This possibility of getting another dog came out of the blue this week when my husband happened to be at a local pet store he did consulting for. As he is speaking to several of the employees, a sheriff’s deputy walks in and serves them with an eviction notice.
Knowing they have puppies they will need to find homes for quickly, he takes a look at what is in the store. They happen to have a Westie with kennel cough in the back room, he informs me that night. I really like that particular breed. So, the seed is now planted.
I go by the shop the next day, without any real intention to “rescue” this puppy but more out of curiosity to test my feelings. Well, he is awfully cute (but aren’t all baby animals?) I tell myself and the store employees. I take him out of his crate and observe his behavior. Typical puppy stuff, nothing unusual or out-of-the-ordinary.
As I watch him run around, I ask myself, where’s that spark? Where’s the overwhelming feeling that I just had to take him home? You know, the one where you just want to gobble him up, hold him and never let his little paws touch the ground again?
Well, none of that was there. Coupled with my son’s insistence to never own another dog was as clear a message as I needed that we are not ready to make that commitment any time soon. The grieving process knows no time frame. When the time is right, we’ll know.
Warmest Regards,
Gina
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