Making room and letting go

"The final cause of dogs having such short lives ... is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of 10 or 12 years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?" ~Sir Walter Scott

Two days before Christmas, my husband and kids took a donation of pet food out to the Humane Society. My husband and oldest daughter had volunteered regularly that summer and never came home with more than cellphone pictures of the animals they cared for. But this time was different.

Some beagle-heeler mix puppies had just arrived, rescued from a box at the end of a driveway. My husband fell in love with the runt of the litter. We sat on the bed and talked about whether or not we could make room for another dog. Could we afford it? Did we have the time? Was it foolish to think that a pup could be good for our middle-aged mutt, Maisy?

Ultimately, we decided it was a little crazy, but do-able. We named our new dog Violet, after the character in the movie "It's A Wonderful Life," who also gets another chance at Christmastime. In the beginning, there were lots of cuddles. She weighed less than five pounds, thanks to harboring two kinds of worms, so she was easy to tuck under an arm. There were also lots of puddles on the floor and lots of crying in her crate. Then, there was the "chewing on everything" phase, followed by the "I'm house-trained unless I'm a little put out that you were gone most of the day or it's too cold and wet outside" phase (which we are still in). Now, she is 17 pounds and we do more chasing than cuddling. More than once we've told her, "It's a good thing you're cute." I think our older dog, Maisy, feels the same way, as she is sometimes visibly annoyed by her younger roommate, but sometimes playful, affectionate and maternal toward her.

Two days into March, my mother called me. Ernie, her almost-13-year-old dachshund, was sick again, but this time it seemed different. "I don't know. I took him to the vet. They said it might be a virus. But I just have this feeling he is dying," she said. So, I went over to her house to keep vigil. We watched the Oscars and held him on our laps. He had been a cantankerous, yippy guy who made a lot of messes, but he was certainly quiet that night. I pressed my hand on his quivering body and told him he was a good dog. He crossed the "Rainbow Bridge" early the next morning. I cried the "ugly cry" and wondered why we do this to ourselves. Why do we make room for these little mess-makers only to have them break our hearts?

To my surprise, my kids wanted to see him. So, they went over to Nonni's, stood next to his little dog bed like they were at a wake, put their arms around each other and gave him one last pat. And I was reminded we do this to ourselves for the same reasons we do so many things in life. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Ideally, every time we take that risk, put our hearts on the line, we become better people -- more generous, more patient and more sensitive. We learn more about ourselves. And, in the case of our dogs, we feel a bit inspired to become the people they think we are -- someone worth trotting to the door for (no matter how many times we "come home" that day) and being whole-body happy to see. Yes, it's hard to make room and hard to let go, but so worth it.

Brooke Clubbs

About Brooke

Brooke Clubbs is a mother to three kids and two dogs who runs (literally) around Jackson, teaches at the university and lets her husband Bob, the social mediarologist, watch the weather so you don't have to. She's really sorry if this column made you cry.