The shared span of beginnings and endings

In the process of trying to come to terms with the issues of mortality, purpose, timing, and the general greater scheme of things and how they related to Megs's presence - and early departure - from our life, we wondered, "Why now?" Perceived from within the depths of our sadness, there is a feeling that she was taken far too early. Bostons tend to live until at least 11 and she was only 6.

But thinking about it differently helped things. I am fully aware that this just may be my way of coping, but I am now looking at it as lucky that we had this long with her. Tumors usually happen fast and their effects bring about rapid... closure. So being that the doctor told us that the six months was a long time for a tumors progression, we got the best of that time without it taxing Meggos' well being. It was good time together.

And she passed when she needed to. I have a strong feeling that she was holding on until we had measured the weight of what was occuring and accepted that her situation was one that could not be avoided.



There is a little myth that I started telling myself which allows me to understand it all and whether or not its true will never be known... but I am going to hold on to it. It goes like this:

I am pretty sure that Meg was abused. Maybe not that she was kicked or hit very often (once is bad enough) but she was treated very poorly, neglected, and used more for her womb than for the boundless love that she would have been willing to share. Her pain was evident in her behavior when we first got her and her health for as long as we knew her. This is what I think caused the tumor. Being that mental well-being has so much control over health, I wonder if Meg started the process of letting go back before she knew she was going to have a better life - that her body saw a way out of her life of pain and started down a road from which it couldn't turn around.

When she came to live with us, though she could not stop what was already in motion, she gave us all that she could.

And she gave us a lot.





And again, I often feel that timing is everything.

A lot that I have read cautions to wait - to let the grief pass and then to make the decision with a rational mind.

I understand this.

If one is not prepared, one may seek to find somone just like the dog whom they lost. Sadly, they find that they cannot deal with the new dogs inability to meet their standards. They may also find that if the grief has not run its course, a new dog can simply remind them of what they don't have. Regardless, it is selfish and unfair to the new dog.

So we talked it out and searched ourselves and each other to know what we should do. Thinking about what I had read, Emily and I decided to pay careful attention that we focus on a new dog as itself - not as a void that he/she is to some degree filling - and to make sure that we were doing this at the right time - not based on what we read or what other people would council, but what we feel.


Emily and I are very much guided by intuition and it has served us well. That is how we got together the first time we dated, the time that we split up (remember - "timing"), and a few years later when we got back together again. Among other things, it was also how we decided to adopt Meg.


Emily and I are "animal people." If we had the time, money, and ability, we would have thousands of acres for "all creatures great and small" who needed us as much as we need to help them. But being that we live in a small place in the city, one dog is all we can manage (also all the condo association will allow).

Though Meg was very special and we would choose her before any other dog, we felt that if we can help, we should help. And right now, we can use another friend.

A few days after we lost Meg, Emily started to look around on petfinder.org - this is where we found Meg in the first place. Rapidly narrowing the search to Boston Terriers (their general temperment is a perfect match for us), she found the picture of the funniest little bugger named Pepper Jack. She found that, like Meg, there was something about his picture that caught her - a look in his eye, maybe, or maybe something that cannot be explained.

Over the next few days, we talked some more about it and being that I fell that Meg lives within us, even sought out what Meg would tell us.

Though this may sound a little weird, as I sat talking with Emily on the phone, I asked Meg to give me a feeling about what Jack was like and the word "clown" popped into my head. Though I am not saying that she "spoke to me," I rarely rule anything out and it just brought us that much closer to pursuing it.

After a few e-mails and phone calls, we found that Jack lived outside of Milwaukee with a foster family and decided to take a one-day road trip to meet him. Though the drive was long, it was worth it. He is a very happy dog and though he has his issues, we felt confident that we could deal with them. The thing that sealed the deal was the foster mom's statements about his personality. It was something like, "He's pretty even keeled most of the time, but sometimes when he is playing with his toys he's such a clown - just a little clown."

So now he lives with us. We are on a two week trial, but are nearly positive that he will become a part of the family. Can't see of any reason why he wouldn't. He loves everyone he meets and they love him right back. The cats didn't even miss a beat when he came in, really and just accepted him. He is going to be a good dog and friend, I already know.

But we also know that he is going to remind us of Meg and that there will be unintentional comaprisons made, but we don't feel our memories will be in any way diminished by his presence. Meg was too good a friend for that.











Anyway, here is a picture of the old boy. And yes, his tongue always sticks out.



Oh, and because he didn't seem to respond to Jack (and that is my Uncle's name) we decided to change his name to Ike.