Once Upon a Time

 Last week, I talked about “real change,” and it’s absolutely time for that in my life.  Over the weekend, I made those lists, looked at my calendar/schedule, and had some heart-to-heart conversations with my girls.  

First thing on the list to de-stress my life is finding a home for Thorin, a place where he will be happy, so I emailed the Australian Terrier rescue.  Same as with Sam, we believe his happiness will only be with someone who actively desires his specific breed and will spend time with him and treat him as part of the family.  On the website, I read reassuring words from Darlene Evans, the President of ATR:  “Rescue is done with the heart.  Sometimes in rescue there are difficult decisions that have to be made, but they are offset by the happy look of an Aussie as he is going off to his new and final home. That is what rescue is all about.”  That is what we want for Thorin.  Within two days, a woman from Georgia called to ask about Thorin and passed his info along, cautioning me that it could be difficult to find someone to take a dog so old. 

By Wed, a woman contacted me who wants to adopt Thorin!  She has had Aussies in the past and loves them and now has a tiny Yorkie, so Thorin will have a pal to hang out with.  The dogs are not left alone more than a few hours at a time and even go on vacation with her and her husband.  They live close to Orlando and would be happy to send us updates and photos of a happy Thorin, and we could even visit him.  This weekend, we will take Thorin to their home and see if it works out.

A huge weight of relief fell off of my shoulders after that phone conversation.  Again, we do not have to say a forever goodbye, which is such a blessing, as this decision is difficult to make.  At times, I wonder if we could work it out somehow.  Thorin, such a sweetheart, follows me around like a little shadow, and we have fallen into a semi-workable routine this week.  When we take him on longer walks, he is less likely to mess in the house, and he still adores car rides with us.  However, it is an added expense, an extra responsibility, and it takes so much time from our already over-busy schedule.  Some days, things appear to flow more smoothly, and it works out.  Other days, it is a real struggle to find time to walk Thorin in the morning or rush back to him after church or work.  Bottom line is that it’s too much right now, and it’s not fair to him to be locked up several days a week.   

Yet I am sad to think of saying any sort of goodbye to Thorin this weekend.  He has been part of our family for eleven years, and we are giving him to another family, which hurts.  At the same time, I realized this week that Lexi was right from the very beginning when she said that God was using the situation with the dogs to help us work through and release some things from our past. 

Once upon a time, we were a family of six (two adults, two kids, two dogs).  In the meantime, divorce, life, circumstances changed our family, breaking it into two separate ones.  It has taken time, but those separate families are healing, learning, evolving, and growing stronger.  Seeing the dogs and having them here in our new life where they don’t really fit anymore has helped us accept the past and our new paths.  Being part of their recovery and healing has brought fresh healing for us.  Saying goodbye to our dogs has allowed us to release the past and some of our expectations of the future.  Finding them new homes where they will thrive shows us our chance to thrive.  We are all going in separate, new directions, but it is good.  And they all lived happily ever after with their new families.

“Some Good in This World”

          First thing Monday morning I had errands to run, so I walked the dogs and then took them with me. When we returned, a friend from Divorce Recovery brought over supplies and filled in the bite marks and scratches in the bathroom, peeled off more paint, sanded everything, and then painted it all to match. The bathroom looks decent again, and the friend refused to let me reimburse for the supplies or pay for the labor. I am awed by all of the kind people around and by God’s work in our lives.
          By the time the girls arrived home from school that afternoon, the bathroom was finished and the cats and dogs had settled into a tentative truce. I sat on the couch with my laptop resting on my lap and Piper sitting across my chest and arms. Yes, both of our cats love plopping onto my arms while I am at the computer.  Sam lay next to me on the couch, his hip pressed against my leg, and Thorin rested at my feet.  Zeus perched on the top of the sofa, content to look down on the rest of us.
          A phone call changed everything.
          We were all settling in, fitting together, knitting a new life when a lady called me earlier that afternoon to ask about Sam. She'd seen the information the woman from church had put out last week.  If Sam still needed a home, she had someone interested.  Could she give him my number?  Within an hour, Tom* called, and he sounded perfect for Sam. A positive solution. A resolution. An answered prayer.
          I stop typing and place my face in my hands. How do I explain this?  What words describe the conflicting emotions rolling through me still?  Joy for answered prayers, raw from hurt, heartbroken for my girls, happy for Sam, sad for Thorin, the list goes on...
          Tom explained that he'd raised a chocolate lab from a puppy to thirteen years. Tom's mom had recently beat cancer, and the lab had helped her have a reason to get out of bed again. Three weeks ago, their lab died. Three weeks ago, Sam traveled to Florida.
          They were looking for another lab, a mature lab, a lab that would be loved and rarely left alone. When not with Tom at his house, the lab would be with his mom who has a huge fenced in backyard and a mountain of dog toys. The lab would be spoiled; the lab would be a blessing to them. Could we bring Sam over tonight?
          "Do you promise if it doesn't work out you will call me and not drop him off somewhere?"
          "I would never do that. The only way it wouldn't work is if he bit someone. I'd never."
          Tom even asked if we were okay; he couldn't imagine having a lab for six years and having to let him go. He offered for us to keep in contact, to have play dates with Sam, and continue to be part of his life.
          We agreed to meet that evening and see. 

          
I remember when we first met Sam, a tiny black puppy.  The runt of the litter, he made up for size with a big heart.  From the first moment we met him, we loved him.  Laina smuggled him into her room to play, saying she was keeping him forever.  Even then, I argued against adding another responsibility to our life.  The others convinced me.  Sam and his sweet spirit convinced me.  The fact that I’d always longed for a lab convinced me.  We paid for him and kept him with us that very day. From then on, he was part of our family, and we named him after Samwise Gamgee, Frodo’s faithful and loyal friend, thinking of Sam’s speech of friendship and hope to Frodo at the end of The Two Towers:

Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.

After picking Lexi up from work, we drive to Tom's house, which is only 15 minutes from our place. The girls cry the whole way, and I feel a knot in my chest.  

We walk into the gorgeous, huge tan house, and Sam instantly explores everywhere.  I chatter away, trying to cram six years of love into a five minute bio. When I mention that Sam loves water, Tom says he has water in his backyard, "You don't think he'll jump in, do you?" I ask what kind of water, and he says "brackish" and opens the back door that looks out onto a beautiful deck with a bar and hot tub.  Sam dashes out and races away. We all chase after him—his favorite game. Tom and Laina are ahead while Lexi and I walk slower with Thorin.

"Why'd you mess it up, Mom? How could you do that? He's not gonna want him now" Lexi snaps at me.

"Stop it. I know you're hurting, but it's not okay to take it out on me."

We walk the block and see no sign of Sam. The girls wait on the deck while Tom and I drive around. On the way back, we find Sam racing down the street. When I holler, he runs straight to my window.  I open the door, and he throws himself into the car, half on my lap, panting and looking so happy.  We return to the house and let him explore. "Do you still want him?"

"Yes."

I realize that I forgot to bring a bone for Sam, so Tom runs to Publix while we wait with the dogs. He returns with $50 worth of dog food, bones, and toys. He opens one and squeezes it, hiding it from Sam. Sam's tail is wagging as he dances around and snatches the toy. He runs to his spot on the rug in front of the large screen TV and proceeds to destroy the toy in less than five minutes. Tom laughs, rubs Sam's head, and hands him another toy.

Finally, we have to say goodbye, and we leave quickly. Goodbye, but only for now. We have agreed for Sam to stay with him this week, and we'll pick him up Friday to spend the weekend with him. We want to see with our own eyes that he's healthy and happy in three days. We want to see what our life will be like without him, now that we are used to him again. We want to see how Thorin will react being separated.  We want more time.

The ride home is long and hard. With blocks on our chests and tears rolling down our cheeks, we all loudly protest leaving him behind.

Once home, I text Tom to check on Sam, and his text affirms: Tail wagging chewing bone. Lying on carpet. I'm lying on floor next to him.

It's supposed to be us there on the floor with Sam and his wagging tail.

*Name changed for privacy.

Sam & Thorin Meet the Atlantic

          Storm clouds hovered over Brevard County on Friday afternoon, but we wanted to show Sam and Thorin their first view of the ocean.  They had traveled all the way from Missouri to Florida and deserved to visit the beach, so we loaded them up after the girls came home from school and headed out.  They absolutely love going places with us. 

          We first stopped at a friend’s house as she wanted to meet our dogs and we’d gotten calls about Sam because a woman from church who helps rescue dogs had passed his information along to over 200 people.  There was a chance that Sam might be adopted on Sunday.  Since Sam could be moving to Tampa or Sarasota in two days, we were on borrowed time and wanted to treasure every moment.

My friend adored the dogs and wanted to spend time with them, so everyone walked to the park in the light rain.  On the way back, she ran with Sam, and he paced right beside her.  He loved running and was a great running partner.

          Finally, we went to Canova Beach, determined not to let the precipitation ruin our adventure. 

Sam loved it!  Lexi and Laina took turns running with him, back and forth, all along the dog beach.  He splashed into the waves, ran both in and out of the water, and explored everything.  His pink tongue hung out to the side, and his tail whipped back and forth.  Happiness radiated from him.  

          Thorin, on the other hand, detested the entire beach.  He hated the sand, despised the waves, and loathed the ocean.  He set his bottom on the ground and refused to budge.  He would not even be dragged, though the girls carried him to the water to introduce him to it.  He wanted nothing to do with it and turned his head away.

          Roguish Sam found a new game.  He bit part of the leash and began leading the girls on a run.  He wanted to be in charge.

          We all laughed at the sight.

          Despite the constant drizzle, I snuck several photographs to capture the moment.  
With this added responsibility, we are busier, too busy, but we are also more active.  The dogs get us outside and keep us moving.  They remind us to take time for fun and play.  They prompt us to love and be loved. 

How can we keep them?  How can we let them go?