I had thought that if we were to keep a pup, it would be one of the other girls, who I told were all auditioning for the part of Molly, since my husband had a name in mind. The others were flashier, more lively, and all were very bright and learned quickly. This one always sat quietly looking up at me, sometimes behind me and I didn’t even notice because I was busy with the puppies who were more out going. They were daintier, smaller dogs with big personalities. She was easier to overlook with her quiet manners and willingness to politely wait to be petted.
She was always looking up at me with a heart full of love. I should have known all along that she was my dog, because she already knew it and was trying to tell me.
I loved every single one of the babies and every minute that I spent with them. But when the 8-10 weeks are up, I am typically ready to say good bye and get some much needed sleep. I become attached to them each in different ways, according to their personalities and how they react with me, and there are lots of tears with the farewell kisses.
But we had five dogs already and I am a reasonable person, and knew we didn’t need a sixth. Still, my husband insisted that we mark one sold, “just in case.” Til the very end of our road trip, I hadn’t committed to keeping one.
At least I didn’t realized I had. If my husband hadn’t stated, “That dog is part of our family.” I probably would’ve dithered on for another month saying I was looking for just the right home for her.
It took me longer than it should have to realize that her home was here with us.
Her cuddles and sweetness are exactly what I needed in this awful year of loss. Nothing on earth can replace a child who passes away, but an armful of a lovable fur ball can ease the pain. And I know that while my Ryan would’ve been horrified that I kept another puppy, he would have loved her too.
The Angel wing pattern of white spots on her chest is a sign that he does.