Pets

As much as my son has begged me over the years for a pet, we have none for a reason.  I tell Kaleb it’s because we’re gone from home too much and it wouldn’t be fair to the dog, cat, bird or lizard to have us away so long, but the real reason is, my heart can’t break many more times.  I had dogs and cats as my “kid substitutes” for more than twenty years before Kaleb came on the scene, and with each one’s loss it took a piece out of my heart.  I just love them too much and can’t stand it that they don’t live longer.  Losing a beloved pet hurts, deeply. 

It seems I spend the bulk of my days now just trying to keep the two people I love most in the world alive.  My 70-year-old husband has heart disease and cooking him a fat-free plant strong diet is more work than I bargained for when we began this journey, but the results are certainly worthwhile.  And then I have this 15-year-old “no fear” boy that I must constantly remind to be safe and make wise choices, since he’s all I have and if something happens to him, well, then what?  To add a pet into the mix would about do me in.  My nerves couldn’t handle the care and feeding and worry that goes along with loving.

My neighbor, Wendy, has a little pet cemetery in the back of her property where my two favorite basset hounds, Waldo and Bailey, are buried, along with my favorite cat, Stormy.  It’s a comfort to know they are nearby, but I so miss them.

After I made the horrible decision to put Waldo, the last of my pets, to sleep, after he ruptured a disc, I called a friend to share my grief.  All my friends, and especially their kids, loved Waldo.  He was a classic kind-hearted basset hound that let children fall all over him, and never once had a bad day. I unloaded on her and told her how my heart was aching.  Like a good friend, she listened to every detail and cried with me.

She called me the next day to say when she broke the news to her two girls, ages nine and six, the six-year-old asked if they could pray for Waldo, so they got down on their knees and bowed their heads.

“Dear Lord,” she began, “We pray that you receive Waldo into Doggy Heaven...”. 

Her daughter abruptly interrupted her prayer and said with excitement in her voice, “Mom, is there really a Doggy Heaven?” 

“Sure,” she said. 

“Well, where is it exactly?” 

“Well, I think it’s right up there next to regular heaven,” my friend answered.

“I know where Fish Heaven is Mom, but I’ve never heard of Doggy Heaven,” her daughter replied. 

My friend was a little curious, so she asked, “Well, where do you think Fish Heaven is?”

And her daughter’s response was, “You know, down the toilet.”