I want to begin this post with a warning and a promise. If you are reading this post expecting a happy ending, you will get one - that's the promise. Eventually - that's the warning. So, you may want to scroll down to the last three paragraphs and read them first.
TODAY'S BIG STORY: The Day of the Five Dog Giveaway. August 30, 2009 will probably go down in the archives of our family history as one of the saddest days of my life. The main event of the day was the result of a series of circumstances that had led to the ultimatum. My husband was re-hired by a former company, and after a two-year lapse of working various jobs, the offer was met with excitement from everyone. The only requirement was a temporary transfer to another state. So, I made the decision to move to my oldest daughter's beach condo for a year or until our kids graduated from college. Then, as a family, we would decide on a more permanent relocation. Trust me when I say that is a long story made short!
I was especially looking forward to the idea of living on the beach - with one exception: Aimee's condo did not allow pets, and our family had five dogs. So, once again, I made the decision that no one else in the family would make - to give our five dogs away. Our oldest dog was a loyal Welsh corgi named Zoe; next was Grady, a finicky Peekapoo; followed by Zoe's sweet puppy, Shy Girl; then Jack, a feisty border terrier; and finally, Daisy, a possessive Maltipoo.
Because I was the only person home most of the time, I had formed a dependent attachment to our dogs. Because of the adjustments of the past two years, my dogs had kept me sane. I loved them with a clinging and absorbed devotion. At first I planned to give them to friends or relatives, but then I could not bear the thought of knowing who had them. I contacted one of the state's most reputable animal organizations and made arrangements for them to be adopted.
Sunday, August 30, 2009. The inevitable day arrived. At first, the process was methodical and disconnected, as if they were prisoners being transferred to lock-up. My son emptied the SUV of its contents. I cleaned out dog taxis, retrieved registration papers and wrote detailed descriptions of each dog's likes and dislikes. Despite my efforts to be deliberate, tears began to drop like rain. I wasn't sobbing (yet), my eyes were just dripping like a leaky faucet needing repair.
The rest of the day was like a scene from a sad movie. I put Daisy in one taxi and Jack in the other. Matt lifted Shy Girl and Zoe into the back of the Pathfinder, and I held Grady in my lap. The tear drop faucet was no longer an annoying drip; the pipes had completely burst. I was crying so uncontrollably that I could hardly breathe. My son was like a stone pillar of support - showing no emotion, just a tower of strength.
We arrived during the Sunday afternoon viewing of the animals, and the dogs were almost adopted out of our hands - a slight consolation. The employees were so professional, and the transfer proceeded smoothly and quickly. Within fifteen minutes, the process was over. (Remember I warned you...eventually.) The painfully quiet drive home was interrupted by my deep sniffles and heavy gasps for breaths. I have no words for the heartache that had become part of my being that day - a heartache that would resurface throughout the next year. I would be forever marked by the day of the five dog giveaway.
Fast forward to the happy ending (the promise). Last week, we had such inclement weather - a combination of rain, sleet and snow. As I was stuck inside, I continued the organization process which I began in January. I opened "My Music" folder to listen to some favorite songs and "My Pictures" folder to watch a photography slide show. Feeling a little melancholy, I clicked the photography folder named "My Babies". There they were with all their memories - precious photos of my five dogs. I sat on the couch and started crying, when I heard something.
We have a large picture window that looks out onto the patio and faces the couch. I looked up and standing on the brick ledge of that window was No-Tail (the squirrel from my last post)! I promise, this is the absolute truth! He scampered across the ledge, stopped again and looked straight at me. OMG! I didn't have my camera! It looked as though he wanted to visit, so I slowly got up and walked to the window. He did not move. Now, the only thing separating us was the window pane.
That's when the most amazing thing happened - absolutely unbelievable, but true! He raised his tiny paw and tapped the window, as if he were touching my face. Double, triple OMG! This was so incredible! I had to get my camera, or no one would believe this was happening. The moment I stepped away from the window, he jumped off the ledge and scampered away to the hedges. That encounter was absolutely one of the most wonder struck moments I have ever experienced. No-Tail had tried to touch my cheek! Wow!
No-Tail had climbed up the back wall (about four feet) and had positioned himself on the narrow brick ledge to pay me a special visit. I don't know how long he had been there, but I do know that he was bringing me an awesome message of hope. Sad things happen. Bad things happen. Sometimes they are our fault, and sometimes they aren't. Sometimes, things happen that are beyond our control, and sometimes we make decisions that leave us with a distinctive hand print of heartache. And yet, No-Tail was living proof that life goes on - in a different way. He lifted his little paw, tapped the window pane and calmly assured me, "It's gonna be okay." Then, in a quick dash, he disappeared.
I called my kids (like it was Christmas morning) and excitedly shared with them what had happened. One of them had to finish a paper within an hour, so she wanted the quick version. The awe and wonder got lost in translation. But for me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. This little squirrel that I had just written about reached out to me. We were connected; I knew it. We had both been marred by the events of one day, and we had survived. No-Tail touched my cheek (and my heart) through that window pane and reminded me to smile.
And he forever changed my attitude about the day of the five dog giveaway.
Dianne ; )
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