Today's feature is a guest post by my friend, Christine Miller. What I've come to know about Swirly is that she is always willing to change. Please enjoy her offering.
Christine and Charlie.
When I think of my history with pets, most stories feel loose and frayed, with straggly threads hanging down like a scarf that was never finished. I’ve shared time with a number of different animals, but there was only one whose death I experienced firsthand – a gerbil named Scooby. His breathing became irregular, the vet said it was pneumonia, and the next day he died when I was trying to give him medicine. I was in the fifth grade, and I’m not sure I even cried. I had by then developed a certain level of stoicism thanks to a domineering father; if the loss of my tiny pet created an outpouring of grief, I have no memory of it.
The rest of my pets came into my life and were somehow abruptly removed, so my experience of their deaths was always at arm’s length. A German Shepherd named Charlie died after my parents divorced and he stayed with my father; two cats my college roommate and I adopted went with her after we graduated, so their passing was shared with me years later in a letter. With other dogs and cats, the story is the same – I had them for a while, then some circumstance or event took them away – so I have yet to take a journey with a pet from the beginning of its life to the end besides Scooby. That was more than thirty years ago.
My husband and I have decided – after months of discussions about it – to get a dog, and as excited as I am about this, I am also fearful that I am not up to the task, that I will somehow let this animal down and not be able to stay in its life and ensure a peaceful passing when the time comes. Going deeper, I am also terrified of what that experience will be like. Will I be able to handle that loss? How can I let myself get attached to such a loving creature, knowing I will likely have to say good-bye to it in just over a decade? It is a wide open territory of unknowns, and I am afraid I will somehow fail.
This is one of those situations where I could easily talk myself out of it – we’re too busy, it’s a big responsibility, I travel too much, etc. And while all those things might be true (we are busy, it is a big responsibility, and I do travel quite a bit), I know that they are not reason enough to not get a dog. If I use them to justify remaining safely pet-less, then all I’m really doing is giving in to my fears, and if I do that, I’m letting down this creature before we’ve even met.
I know our dog is waiting for us right now. I can feel it in my bones. When I think about bringing this animal home, training it, feeding it, walking it, and loving it, it makes my heart swell, and then it makes me weepy. For I already have so much love for our dog, and I’m already dreading the day I have to let it go. But then I see that this is precisely why it is time for me to take an emotional risk and bring this responsibility into my life. It is time for me to make this commitment, to trust that I will be able to follow through with it, and give our dog a warm, safe home as well as a peaceful, quiet passing. For in between the day we bring it home and the moment we have to let it go, there will be love and frustration, long walks and snuggling, learning to sit and cleaning up poo, and opening my heart that much more.
