When Honey, our beloved 14-year-old dog, died last fall, I made a few “never-again-will-I” vows.
Never again will I watch Animal Planet. Never again will I go to pet stores on animal adoption day. And never again will I get another dog soon after losing one. I knew my triggers. I was as vulnerable as that precious pug circulating in the social media video who howls “I love you” to his owner.
Several months later, I am pleased to say I have successfully kept these promises. Which is why I typed this column on my laptop while sitting in bed with two 4-month-old Lhasapoo puppies at my feet. Hey, I never said anything about not getting two dogs.
A pithy defense, I know. After losing Honey, Mike and I had the best intentions to protect our hearts and favorite pairs of shoes. For a while the grief was so raw and ever-present that we couldn’t imagine another four-legged presence in our lives. To ease our pain, we made what I call the “Honey Shrine for non-Catholics” on a bookshelf with photos of Honey, a sympathy card from her vet, and a cherry wood box the size of a small jewelry chest that contains Honey’s ashes.
Yet, the grief remained so raw and ever-present that we couldn’t imagine life without adding another four-legged cutie into our hearts.
Slowly, we bounced around the idea of getting another dog, first mentioning it in passing over morning coffee. Then, I saw a cute puppy video on Facebook and shared it with Mike. So I shared a dozen more. Then Mike saw an ad for Lhasapoos advertised to arrive just in time for Christmas. It wasn’t his fault the ad was so prominently featured in the back page of the classifieds in 10-point type on the bottom right of the newspaper. How could he ignore it?
“Wouldn’t the children love a puppy at Christmas?” we squealed to each other with delight. Pay no attention to the fact Mike and I are empty-nesters with children in college.
“Let’s just go take a look,” we said, six seemingly simple words guaranteed to invite temptation. I’m pretty sure that’s what Eve said to Adam pointing to the forbidden tree of fruit.
It was Thanksgiving Eve and the breeder called to say she only had three puppies left. If we didn’t act soon, they’d be gone. How could we refuse? We really had no choice. Just as we had no choice but to bring Gilly, our daughter who was home for Thanksgiving break, on the Just Looking Visit. Our son, Griffin, would arrive later that night so we had to act quickly.
Two hours later, we returned home with two little cream and caramel fluffs of fur. We blame our daughter. Mike and I were just looking. Well, there was that adorable pup who resembled an Ewok and instantly nuzzled into Mike’s neck. But, Gilly discovered another one she said reminded her of Honey with her soft white coat and pink belly.
When Griffin opened the door into the kitchen, he found his mother, father and sister splayed on the floor playing with newly named Lucy and Lizzy.
“I knew you’d end up with two,” he said smiling.
Funny, I thought. I swore I couldn’t emotionally invest in one dog in my life, let alone two. Which is exactly the reason I’ll be more careful on the whole never-again notion in the future.
Because I found two furry reasons to open my heart once more and break a promise that wasn’t worth keeping.