Children

I want to be a new “mother” again

 

I miss my Milo. My dog, that is. He was my first “baby.”  I have always been a dog person. Even when a German Shepard took a chunk of my grandmother’s thigh I loved dogs.  I didn’t stop. I am, admittedly, a little afraid of German Shepherds and try to avoid them at all cost. Yet, I believe dogs rule. Love them. I love their smiles, their hugs and their protective nature. Yes, they do smile and hug. My Milo did. When I was pregnant Milo stood here with me as I suffered though morning sickness. He psychologically held my hair back.

milo_pouting

He has been gone now three years and I am still tortured by his absence. I still find his hair in random bits of cloth.  I have his photo at work and throughput the various rooms at home. While he is gone from our world, his presence through the photos is strong.  Luckily for me, he liked (tolerated perhaps) having photographs taken of him. He was a bit of a diva and I suspect he enjoyed the posing as long as I didn’t dress him up. He made it very clear to me one Halloween he was not a doll to be preened and dolled up. I tried to respect that. There were a couple of times where I couldn’t resist dressing him up.   Those were fun times

Now while I miss him horribly, I think, I have finally reached the ability to adopt another dog in the near future. I am ready to have a little dog come to me for comfort.  I still feel a little guilty entertaining the idea of getting a new pet but I also feel like a void needs to be filled. This void cannot continue to be.  My darling Milo was tiny but mighty and grand. He is irreplaceable.  However, I am ready to be a “mom” to a new dog. There is a dog out there that needs a forever home and I want to provide that going forward. While Milo as perfect, there are variations on perfection. There will be a new perfect one, uniquely perfect in his or her own way.

Thus, this summer I will visit that local pet shelter and see which dog speaks to my heart and to my little boy’s (my human son’s) smile.

5 replies »

  1. Personally, I don’t trust anyone who is not an animal lover.

    When we were kids, my parents got a dog for my sister, who didn’t feed him or pick up after him. She and her friends would dress him up and torture him by other psychological means. When he died, long after Sis and I had moved out, we were so afraid that Mom and Dad would be lonely without him that we surprised them with a replacement which they regrettably rejected because he was way too big.

    Now, Sis is more attached to the successive senior rescue dogs she has adopted over the past several years than she is to any of us two-legged family members. I think this is a bit of a sick and misplaced attachment but…whatever floats her boat, I guess. She is of course keeping and displaying their ashes and photos in prominent places in her home.

    We still display in our home a photo of the cat my husband owned when we met. When Princess passed, our oldest daughter picked out her replacement from the local animal shelter, based on the fact that Ally pressed her face against the cage door so she could be stroked and talk to us. Both Princess and Ally were indoor/outdoor cats, which I guess is the best thing to be in the So Cal burbs. Ally moved with us to TN, where, like many people, she developed allergies so for a while we owned an indoor cat on steroids. When Ally passed, my daughter found her stiff as board in the corner of my walk-in closet and, since she was moving around the country at the time, vowed that when she settled down anywhere the first thing she would do is get her very own cat.

    Now she has Charly but, since she is again a professional vagabond, had to negotiate shared custody with her boyfriend of three years. The good news is that she will be moving into a housing situation soon where she will once again have her kitty permanently available. In the interim, my husband and I, along with Charly’s other set of grandparents, look forward to visiting our four legged furry grandchild as often as possible. Maybe we have a sick and misplaced attachment, too?

    Like

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