I’m an animal person. If it’s fuzzy, cute and has four legs I will probably emit a high pitched noise upon first sight and then clamor to pet it, hug it or otherwise give it “primate love”. Growing up we always had critters. Cats and dogs were the staple family pet and there was always at least one of each in the household. But there were also hamsters, hermit crabs and even iguanas. Each one I remember where we buried, when the time came to say goodbye, and how I used to “visit” with them, leaving wild flowers I’d collected from the neighborhood and maybe a few tears.
The tear thing, the bleeding heart part of me, it comes from my Dad. We joke that he cries at Halmark commercials. But if I let the truth be told I get teary just thinking about my Dad getting teary at Halmark commericals. So this week when he and my mom had to let go of their oldest Golden Retriever (one of three goldens, a yorkie, and three cats) I cried tears from afar. And realized (right in the middle of an ugly cry) that Ozzy, my first dog as an adult, is about to turn 7. And someday I’ll have to let go of his blissfully ignorant wiggling butt and his beautiful honest brown eyes. But until then, we enjoy what we have.
Here’s to the daily walks, neck scratches, belly rubs, long one-sided talks, awkward snuggles, romps in the dog park, chewed shoes/DVDs/couches, and imploring eyes of “Man’s Best Friend”. We miss you Abby. We love you Ozzy.
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