Puppy Love

Latest Session

Today I really need therapy. Again, my head seems to be out of the writing mode and on to something else when it comes to the blogging zone.

Tonight, we have made our choice of puppy at the breeders. Yes, this is an exciting time. We thought hard, looked at all of the pictures, have been anticipating this day with so much joy I could burst. We love her already and can't even bring her home for another three weeks.

But when I brought her picture up online moments ago, this time knowing for the first time she would be ours, I cried.

I miss my Rosie.

We lost our first pup six months ago, not exactly a pup at nearly thirteen years old but a fighter til the end. That was her spirit. Always.

She couldn't go for a run if she wasn't givin' 'er through a field, scooting like a small rabbit with back feet carrying her, though she was 70 lbs of American Bully.

She wouldn't chase a stick into the water unless it was at least half her size. If it was too heavy, she'd just drag it back to shore and along the ground, waiting for us to heave it up and toss it back. I laugh at your small twigs. Don't even pretend to amuse me.

She tore through a barbed wire fence once before we could stop her, tearing a wound on her side but kept trucking as if she didn't feel it, only to finally crash after a long hike the second she made it through the back gate. Much like the hole pierced in her ear from another dog in the first month we had her. We didn't know about that one until we brought her home hours later.

She took a dive off a cliff at Writing on Stone Park. Because the deer jumped. I was chasing the deer. Seriously, what did you expect? That I let it one up me? We thought we'd lost her that time until she came sauntering down the path to the campsite a couple of hours later.

Age 12, less than a year before she died, she ran around the farm as if she was ten years younger, tongue hanging out the side her mouth, happiest she could have been to be keeping up with the younger dogs--until she crashed. Literally. And didn't get up for an hour.

Even at the end, she looked at me from the floor, fighting to even lift herself to go outside to pee because she refused to give in. She went on a week, still pushing through for the cuddles and attention and as long as we were with her, she didn't seem to notice. Until the last day. And I knew she was done.

One of the hardest things to do was to let her go, and until now, I haven't felt guilty for moving forward, finding another bully.

And I've been crying like a baby.

Our new little pup will never replace her, I know that. But crap, does the reality of life ever hit home at the worst of times. Just when I'm supposed to be excited to welcome home another. But we will and it will be okay. And I know we didn't make this decision just to replace her.

I miss the clacking of her nails around the lino. I miss her bear sized nudges for attention. I miss that she would stop eating if it meant a cuddle instead. I miss her half growl-half wine when she wanted our attention. And yes, I even miss the first pair of shoe she chewed. And the many that followed. And the remote controls, couch cusions, two foot length of lino and floorboards.

The house is too quiet. The bedroom floor is empty at night. And there is no one at the door to greet us when we're home.

I need to replace those things.

I miss you Rose. And I know you will love Bella as much as us.