Farewell, My Faithful Friend

          I've been rather quiet the last couple of weeks, allowing a life altering event to catch up with me.  You see, while I was busy panicking about the next phase in my life; becoming the mother of all adult children with my youngest turning eighteen and graduating, another very large phase of life caught me off guard and slipped in.  My beloved chocolate lab, Toffee, took a turn for the worse, and my family and I made the decision to put her down on June 5th.  She would have been 13 today.

            We had known for some time she was battling an aggressive form of oral cancer.  But besides the tumor in her mouth, she was a very happy and healthy senior dog, which is why we opted for two surgeries over the course of 14 months.   We weren't ones to stick our heads in the sand and think she would live forever, but her vet agreed with us that she would do the same if Toffee were hers. 

            A few weeks ago, though, when Toffee slowly stopped eating and there was nothing more we could do to coax her, we knew 'it' had returned.  We also knew there was nothing we could do for her this time.  To say our hearts were broken seems to be putting it too mildly. 

            I'm not confused and thinking that she was human, but she was a very loyal and important part of our family.  In many ways she was the glue that bonded us so well.  I tried to think of what it was about her that makes me say that.  And while there are so many special traits about Toffee, she made it possible to keep the 'L' word alive in our house.  From the time my children were small, my husband and I were included in the same affections they proclaimed to Toffee.  Each time they left the house, we'd hear, "I love you, Toffee, I love you, Mom and Dad," before the door closed.

            I have always thought that I was a compassionate person, but my dog put me to shame here as well.  When Toffee was only 1, my sister lost her beloved dog.  She came to my house and sat at my kitchen table, devastated, crushed and sobbing.  I told her she could stay as long as she wanted, but I didn't know what else to do for her.  Toffee did.  It was the first of many times since then that I witnessed this as Toffee sat beside her and wrapped her two front legs around my sister's waist.  It had to have been pretty uncomfortable for Toffee to stay in that position, but she refused to leave her side.  She offered my sister 'touch' that she so desperately needed, something that I couldn't figure out. 

            Toffee pulled her weight in obedience and loyalty more so than any of our family members.  My husband, Officer Buckle, loves nothing more than to do projects about the house, both inside and out...every day.  Toffee was his sidekick for these projects, and if she could have held the ladder steady or looked through electrical outlet boxes for signs of tiny wire movement, I would have been out of a job.  She followed him inside and out 20 times a day.  I wonder if the same can be said about myself?

            As I'm sure is true with most dogs, Toffee's tail was an incredible mood indicator.  She smiled with her tail, and boy could she smile!  She was the meeter and greeter at our front door, welcoming all guests who entered, and thrived in the attention and the fact that everyone knew her.  But that, too, began to fade in her final days.  We wanted to be sure we were doing the right thing...letting her go.  We were asking so much of her, though, and the pain was too much for her to smile anymore.  So we gathered together as a family to create the courage needed to make the decision.  We knew...we all knew...it was just so very difficult.  Her final days were spent with those who knew and loved her, saying goodbye.  Her life impacted so many, and she had accumulated numerous friends in her years, both human and animal.

            So on this day, June 20th, which would have been your 13th birthday, I bid a public farewell to my good and loving friend...one of God's best creations.  I miss everything about you, from your warm welcome at the door, to the jingle of your tags, to your crazy wiggling on your back, and your constant companionship.  I miss seeing your beautiful brown pillow and your beautiful brown chocolate coat...all over the house.  I know our pain has and will continue to subside, but wow, were we blessed!  I miss you like crazy, Toffee...yeah, crazy.

What Are The Chances?

I was speaking with an old friend recently, and by old I mean, I met her thirteen years ago.  She called to tell me that her family had just experienced tragedy with the death of a young friend, and they were reeling in shock.  It came as quite a surprise to me, and I didn't know what to say to her at first, so I listened.  I listened to her cry and share the agony her family was feeling as their hearts were breaking.  It was so very gut wrenching to hear her pain, but, you know what?  I was glad to have been there for her on the other end of the line...but I almost wasn't.

You see, way back in the fall of 2001, my youngest had started kindergarten in a half day afternoon program.  I knew some of the students in his class, and I was happy with the situation.  My mornings were free to run errands or just spend some quality time with my son before dropping him off at school.  It was a routine I had fallen in to, and it was simple.  I enjoyed it.  That was until this pesky mother who had a lot more energy than I created a plan for an every Wednesday morning field trip...before school.  What?  "No thank you," I told her.  "I have a lot of family in the area."  Can you believe I said that?  Like that had anything to do with early morning field trips.

"No problem," she responded.  "Is it okay if I pick up your son so he can join us?"

Wow!  How embarrassing.  I felt like a pretty lazy mother at that point so I decided to join the group, just to give it a try.  Needless to say, we became fast friends, that pesky mother and I.  We laughed countless times about my idiotic excuse and repeated it often when deciding whether or not to make some plans.

What if I hadn't changed my mind.  What if pesky mother hadn't had such initiative.  What if...that chance had never occurred.  It really makes me stop and wonder when I think of things like this.  Chance.  It only takes a split second to see someone for the first time, to take another look, to stop and think about someone, to say...yes.  How different our lives would be if we had missed a particular chance...or turned it down.

Have you ever thought the same?  Have you had any near misses where your life might have been extremely different?  Almost missed meeting your spouse?  Almost chose a different career?  Listened to your mother?  Didn't listen?  I'd like to hear it.  Share you experience in the comments section.  We'd all like to hear.

And as for my dear friend, pesky mother.  I thank you for the hundreds of good times we've shared from Wednesday morning field trips to backyard Easter egg hunts to following us down camping at Myrtle Beach.  And who, I might add, can make my Officer Buckle blush so!  You pack all the living you can into your life and that of your childrens', and I'm so terribly sorry that one, almost like your own, is gone.  I'm so glad your heart had the chance to love him.