Two and a half months have passed since Abby's death, and once in a while someone will ask how I am getting along. And then almost always, that question is coupled with, "Do you plan to get another horse?"
That's not an unreasonable question to ask, especially considering how deeply I love horses. But my history of losing a beloved animal and the grief that accompanies that is complicated. Here is some insight on me, my love of my animals, and grief.
Our first family dog was Duffy, an English Springer Spaniel. Our neighbors bred Springers and had had a litter of puppies. Duffy would see our kids playing in the yard, come over to the fence to visit, then squeeze under and bounce around with them.
I'd pop him back over the fence and into his own yard, go back in the house and soon hear the kids shrieking with laughter again. There he would be once more, having slipped under the fence again to play. (None of the other puppies came over, it was always Duffy.)
Finally, our neighbors said, "If you will let us show him, we will give him to you. He wants to be your dog." It was a really good trade!
Duffy and Music City Son Cole supposedly "taking a nap" together. (Those spilled Duplos tell the real story.)
Duffy was with us for fifteen years and when he finally crossed the rainbow bridge, we were absolutely devastated. I really struggled with his loss; the house seemed so empty without our Duffy. (Even with six kids, it still felt empty.)
It was three years before I could even bring myself to consider getting another dog.
Hawkeye Sarah helped us with that. She was married and living in another town, and her neighbor was a police officer who handled their local police department's narcotics dog, Zeus.
He told her that he was retiring Zeus but he was having a problem in finding a retirement home - Zeus had made so many drug busts in that town, the police department had received death threats directed at him. The officer was afraid that if he retired Zeus with someone locally, someone would find him and follow through with their threats.
Sarah piped up that her parents who lived in another town would be interested and a good home, and sure enough, Zeus came home with us.
Zeus and my mom on her 80th birthday. They had a special bond and he would sit close to her whenever she visited. (He was a HUGE boy!)
Craig and Zeus were especially closely bonded. Craig will still say, "Zeus wasn't a pet, he was my friend."
When Zeus passed away, we mourned him for ten years. Get another dog? It just didn't feel right.
Until suddenly it did, and we rescued Molly. (We also call her Mama; she answers to both.) My friend Kathy heard about her and contacted us to see if we would like to rescue her.
Oh, our poor girl! Our first view of her - she was scared, she was dirty, and she was terribly traumatized.
A puppy mill mama, she was surrendered to a shelter. Molly came home with us, but she was frightened of everything, including us, and spent most of her time huddled on her doggy bed.
The only thing that perked her up was when Teacher Daughter Lisa and her dog Millie came over. Molly quickly bonded to Lisa and Millie; she felt safe, she felt loved, and she sought out their company.
After nine months, Craig and I realized that she would be happier with Lisa and Millie than she was with us, even though Molly had made progress and was not as frightened as she'd been. Lisa took her home. (This video of her greeting them helped us make the decision.)
Another loss for us, but we took comfort in Molly's happiness although we did grieve. Our home went back to being quiet. Again.
She doesn't look like that terrified, dirty dog in a crate anymore, does she? Letting her live with Lisa was the right decision.
Just a month or so later, Kathy put us in touch with her friend Sarah whose guide dog needed a retirement home.
Four prospective couples were interviewed, and we were the lucky couple selected. Pepper came into our lives.
Waking up from a nap to find Pepper cuddled up to me, head on my shoulder, nose under my chin, and front legs wrapped around my arm.
Just as Zeus bonded with Craig, she has bonded with me. Deeply. Labs love their people, but she's a guide dog and they are trained to be with one person, and there is no doubt that I am hers. When she passes on, I will be inconsolable.
So, back to the question people have been asking me as to whether or not I am going to get another horse.
Well... I'm still very much grieving my girl. Even typing about her makes me cry. (Or, as reader Kat says, "Makes my eyes leak." Love that description, Kat!)
And then there is this.
I am using the walker more and more to get around. I suspect I am facing another spinal fusion. Even before Abby died, I was struggling to walk out to whichever pasture she was in; now I'd be unable to do that if I got another horse.
Possible surgery, a busy Fall with the Feast, Great Lakes Congress Show, Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings, and then winter's snow and ice. This is not a good time for me to get a new horse.
So, my plan is to see how things go, see how I am feeling, and if I get back the ability to walk pain free.
If so, then in March I will discuss it with Craig and get his insight and input, and then contact Tim. He's already given me the green light to bring another horse out to the barn. (Best barn owner ever!)
It's a big stay 'tooned, but... stay 'tooned!
The Give Away for the beeswax ornaments ends today at 11:59 PM Eastern time. Comment to enter! (Hopefully I will get another blog posted later today around lunch time.)
