'Tis Better to have Loved and Lost....

...Than never to have loved at all? I know you’ve seen these words before. But Mom met a guy on Sunday who just recently lost his very first dog. She was 15. And an Aussie. His heart, as you can imagine, was crushed. Yet, he’s ready, now, to fill his heart again (yes, it’s healing, they always do) and is looking for another Aussie. I begged Mom to leave Chaudy, but no such luck (ooh, boy, I’m really channeling Bear now with this digression stuff. Sorry.).

This man knew that his heart would soon heal and it would be empty and he needed to love again. Which, of course, caused me ‘n Mom (and Ditto) to recall one of Bear’s earliest blogs; one that he did even prior to starting his official blog. He did it on his Facebook page, under "notes". We talked about it and agreed that even a year later, we felt it bore repeating. So please indulge me while I re-post one of Bear’s more thought provoking blogs…..

From June 5, 2010:

Would you all mind if I deviate from my fun posts and talk about something serious? Normally I like entertaining topics—things that are happening and how much fun I’m having again. But events of late, conversations of late, have made my mom and I want to address a subject that we, ourselves, have talked and thought about a great deal. First off, however, please know this is not addressed to, or at, anyone in specific, but it’s something we have felt very strongly about for a long time.

You know the expression, “it is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all”? Well we’d like to amend that a bit. We feel it should be, “it is better to have loved and lost and LOVED AGAIN than have only loved once or never at all”. What we are referring to is those out there that have made a conscious decision to not get another pet (dog, cat, horse, whatever) because they cannot bear the pain associated with loss again. Because they couldn’t have their hearts broken again. Because they will never have another soul mate. Because there could never be another “Fifi” or “Rex”. Well, we find that unconscionable.

My late brother, Dakota, told us a story about our mom. He was the next dog after her beloved Beasley. Dakota came to her just 2 months after Beasley crossed “the bridge”. He knew he could never measure up to Beasley. He knew he would never be her soul mate. But he didn’t care. He told me she cried every day into his fur for over 2 years, but he was ok with that. He loved her so unconditionally for saving HIS life that he wanted to save hers. And he did. And he knew she loved him. He knew he had almost all of her heart and he was ok with that, too. He told us that when “her soul mate” died, part of her heart was sectioned off just for that dog, but Dakota knew that as momma’s heart healed it grew bigger so that he could fit in just fine. And he knew that when the time came for him to leave us, her heart would have a space just for him and as it healed it would grow bigger again. And he was right.

Dakota, my mom’s first Aussie, left us 2 years ago. But sure enough, along came Sophie and her heart got bigger.

As most of you know, by God’s Grace, a fantastic young surgeon and her amazing staff, the benefits of modern medicine, and my sheer will to live, I survived my attack. No one is happier than my mom, my dad, and me. But had I not made it, I know my family would have been incredibly sad and incredibly despondent; but I also know that with time I would be emblazoned on their hearts, their hearts would have healed, and grown bigger, and another dog would be there, in time, to continue in their lives. He would be different than me. I’m different than Dakota. Dakota was different than Beasley or Missy or Lucy or Ditto or Sophie. But that’s ok. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Life is not fair. Life is not easy. For humans or us companion animals. But death, grieving, and pain is a part of life. From pain you humans grow. Sadly, we pets are on this earth for only 15 years or so. But look at what we can teach you. And we can ease your pain. How selfish, then, it is to deny us a chance at life, let alone happiness, because you humans cannot bear a day, a week, a month, or a year of pain. How selfish that you are willing to sacrifice years of unconditional love, not to mention condemn many of us to certain death, because you cannot stand to hurt again? So many of us are in second, or more, homes. We have suffered. We know pain and anguish, but we overcome it and are willing to give unconditional love and acceptance to those that save us. Why not return the favor?

Thanks for reading my post everybody. Your comments are welcome.

Postscript: I know that many of you commented on this original post. And feel free to do so again. How ironic, or is it prophetic, for him to write this. As you know, we did lose Bear. And our hearts were shattered. But we’re already loving again (well maybe Mom is…I can’t bear the imp) and there will be more. This is one time I want to be the Ruler of the World. To make everyone love again…..

Thanks for indulging me. And I grant happiness, and love, to reign on you today.

If You Love Someone

You know the rest….Set them free, etc. Well, with all due respect to Richard Bach, I’ll bet he was never involved in rescue or fostering, was he?

Do you remember Bear talking about the difficulty of fostering ? More often than not we take in dogs that have some serious issues and we show them the way and then we “set them free”. We give them away so that, in fact, they can continue to grow. That happened with me, you know. My beloved foster mom and dad made the painful decision to give me to my forever mom and dad. They knew that I would flourish by having more attention than they could give me. Little did they know how well I would flourish. Bet they had no idea I would rise to the level of Princess…*woohooo* (ooh, I’ve picked up on my brother’s propensity to digress….oops).

Back to the pain of “letting go”. No, our fosters aren’t coming back. They may or may not have “meant to be” ours, but they don’t come back. Mostly we rejoice: whether it’s a “woohoo” that the foster is gone (if he pulls on my furs one more time…..), or in some cases like Gracie/Company, that our foster has found the perfect home (I wish I had an 8 year old girl of my very own). But sometimes, there are tears. Tears of happiness that our friend has found not only a new home but a new meaning to life, and tears of sadness for losing someone we’ve come to love.

Do you also remember reading Bear’s Last Will? Where he discusses courage and strength? Courage to love and Strength to let go. Well, his gifts were tested recently in two very different ways. About a month ago we brought in a foster who was an owner relinquish. He was not hurt. He was not abused. It was clear he was loved very much. But the owner chose to let him go because their family did not have the ability anymore to provide him the life an Aussie needs. He wasn’t neglected or underfed or mistreated. No, rather they realized their current life didn’t allow for him to have a life. Between work and school and other circumstances, their beloved Aussie was not being allowed to live to his potential. He was loved so much that they made the excruciating decision to let him go. Talk about courage. And strength. And tears. Thankfully, they chose rescue so that we could find the right home for him. And flourishing? Yup, he is. If you love someone, set them free…..

On Friday Momma set Andy free. Andy was the male version of Gracie. Gorgeous. Fearful. Hungry. Sick. Andy was a day away from euthanasia when he was pulled from the county pound. He’d been yelled at for going to the bathroom. He’d been abused. He was covered in tick bites. We think he was dumped because car rides scared him, and made him sick. And he was frightened of men. Well… all but one.

Andy fell in love. With his new forever Dad. We took Andy over to meet his potential forever home. Actually, it was that imp Chaudy that was “under review”. Chaudy did what he was supposed to do. Play with the girl dog there. But Andy…well he cozied right up to the man of the house and never left his side. Hmmmm. What did Andy know that we didn’t? He went back the next day. Again, nuzzled up to the man and was tolerant of, but not thrilled with, the potential sister. And we all thought Andy didn’t like men…..

Andy came back home with us which was fine, because he’s a cool dude and we all liked him. Then something remarkable happened. In the three weeks since Andy visited this man, he changed. He became less shy. He was no longer scared of the car. He started to initiate play. He became more confident. He welcomed visitors—women AND men. He accepted discipline, but really, he no longer needed it (sure wish Chaudy got that drill). Dad fell hard (let's give 'em Chauderhead and keep Andy), I fell harder (he did make a nice footman). Mom fell hardest (can you spell Velcro?). Even Ditto sorta liked him. Chaudy? Well Chaudy likes everyone.

So Friday Andy went for a slumber party. He played with his new sister. He charmed his way to his new mom and extended family. And he never left the side of his new dad if he could avoid it. Andy has a person of his own now. Someone he can watch over. Someone he can call his own. Andy won’t be back. Tears? Yes. Of both happiness and sadness. Destiny? I don’t know. Kinda seems like it, but you decide.

Courage to love. Strength to let go. Always knowing they won’t “come back”.

Thanks for reading everyone. And I grant happiness to reign upon you today.

Welcome to My Blog

My name, as you know, is Sophie. It has become Sophie Peanut, but I am not thrilled with that moniker. I think you might, if you have kept up with my brother Bear’s blog, know all my monikers—mainly ascribed by my mother. Bear, however, started calling me a Princess. THAT, I didn’t mind. I really didn’t prance around the house all proud of myself when I found out that I almost won Dog of the Year. He made that up. But, it is true that I AM the boss of this house. And, there were a few times Brother Bear was not pleased.

I’m sure many of you have read Bear’s Last Will and Testament. If you did not, it would probably be a good idea to go to www.bebearmused.blogspot.com. In it, he left the responsibility of caring for, and watching over, my mom to me. Not stated specifically, but implied, was that I would also continue being the family scribe. I am a reluctant scribe and am not sure this will work as well, but Duty calls, and I will do my best.

My blog will be a little different than his. Being a foster, and one who had not the best early life experiences, it is important to me and my mom we tell the foster story. Plus, all fosters make for very good story fodder. Sorry, but my intent is not 100% altruistic! However, I do hope you will enjoy it. Not quite sure how I’m going to end it. Bear was so pithy and I…well I am struggling with two phrases, not comfortable with one, and concerned that the other will antagonize some people. We’ll just have to see.

For my first foray into blogging, however, it is very important for me to “clear the air”. There are some things that weigh heavily on my mind and before we “begin” we all need to be in the same place. First, the opposable thumbs concept was not glommed from a book. No, Bear came up with that all on his own and then ironically mom read us that incredible book, “The Art of Racing in the Rain”. Like I said on my Facebook page, I have no issues with the lack of opposable thumbs. My humans and siblings do things for me anyway so why must I worry? I expect my mom to take dictation.

Second, Bear was always very unhappy with my “Homeless Girls Club”. Do you recall him bringing that up? Well, he was never homeless. He never knew what it was like to be on your own, fending for your own food, trying to stay out of the elements, trying to stay warm, trying not to get hurt by humans, and feeding eight (yes ,8) children. And he CERTAINLY didn’t know what it was like to be 50% underweight. Feline sister Mimi, while not having birthed babies, does know this. And Invisible Gracie, our foster sister, knew it quite well also. Occasionally we allowed boys to join our meetings, on special nights, or ‘specially those who were homeless too, but Bear never quite understood the camaraderie one felt being able to share like experiences. Yes, his feelings were hurt. But us girls? We are still trying to overcome our issues. He just thought we were getting extra attention.

Finally, I know no one blames me. Nor do they blame Ditto. But please know how guilty we feel that Bear was the one who was mauled by the pit bulls. Momma keeps saying it was a blessing we hid. In fact, that’s why we did it. We knew that five pit bulls against us three was not a good scenario. And momma has assured us that she was so grateful we did hide. And we know Bear never blamed us. But we’ve always felt badly. And that’s one of the reasons we never, ever complained while Bear was getting ALL of the attention. It could easily have been me or Ditto or, Dog forbid, all of us.

I want you all to know how badly I miss Bear. We didn’t get to say goodbye. Ditto shared a story with me that when his brother Dakota died, he got to see the body. He knew and understood. Plus he sadly had to watch Dakota fade away so he knew it was ending. For us, we knew Bear was sick, but momma never told us he wasn’t coming back. We saw him at the end and knew how uncomfortable he was. But when he walked out the door we just thought mom was takin’ him to ANOTHER doctor’s appointment. When he didn’t come back? Well, for a week the only time we left the couch was to eat. And to go out for a walk. It was just recently that I stopped running to the river to look for him. I just want you to know how much I miss him.

Please know that Bear taught me everything I know. It was Bear who drew me out of my shell. It was Bear who showed me that having fun was good. It was Bear who taught me to catch balls and Frisbees and chase horses (ick) and play in the water, and chase deers. My earliest memories of fun were Ditto in front and Bear in back and me in the middle as we ran along the river. I loved Bear. It was because of Bear I am the dog that I am.

In the future I will share with you my story, my background, what little I CAN talk about. Until then, I welcome you again. And….I grant happiness to REIGN on your parade…..