After

It’s been three months since we said goodbye to Missy. I knew it would be tough—she was such a huge presence in our home, and I miss her countless times every single day. What I didn’t realize was just how huge the hole in my heart would be, left behind by a little 21-pound dog.

In the past months, we’ve donated many of her things to a local rescue and passed along other items to friends who also have dogs. We held on to her favorite toys, even though she hadn’t played with them in over a year—we just couldn’t let them go. They still sit in the basket in the living room.

I don’t see her hair on my Swiffer or in the vacuum anymore, though now and then I still spot a stray strand on blankets or comforters, and even those are becoming rare. I’m afraid soon there won’t be any left. Her nose smudges still stain the bathroom and bedroom doors, from when she’d burst in to make sure she wasn’t missing out on anything fun. I’m not sure I want to wipe them away—at least not yet.

Some days, the sadness feels overwhelming, mostly because I can’t shake the feeling that I failed her. I feel I let her down, and if I had just held on a bit longer and been stronger, maybe she could have enjoyed more good days. I’ve been a supporter of the Senior Dog Sanctuary in Mount Juliet, TN, for many years, always having a soft spot for sweet frosty-faced senior dogs, and yet I felt I let down my own senior girl. 

When I look at the pictures of Missy from our last week with her, I can see it—the pain, the anxiety—and it hurts to see it now. At the time, watching her suffer, I knew in my heart we were doing the right thing, giving her a dignified passing and sparing her from more pain than she deserved. I knew it then, but now, with my heart missing her so deeply, I can’t help but feel remorse. I absolutely did not want her last day to be her worst day, but I sometimes feel I deprived her of good days too. 

I miss her, and I miss the version of myself I was when I was with her. She was a silly little dog, and I was just as silly with her. I love people, but deep down, I’m an introvert, and Missy had a way of pulling me out of my shell and out of the house. Missy adored people, and the way she would run to greet them made it easier for me to connect with others too. I miss that and I needed that.

I know in my heart we did the right thing, sparing her from more pain and suffering, but there are moments when missing her hurts so much I second-guess my decision. She depended on me for everything her whole life, and I wanted to make the best decision for her. I know, in time, the pain will settle into a different place and missing her won't hurt so bad. Eventually, my heart will heal and be filled with the silly, goofy little Missy moments that brought so much joy to our lives. 

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My Friend Tibb

  

I've known Tibb for about 10 years. She and Robert moved to Bushfork in October 2017. I noticed that for about a week after they moved in, the builder still had not removed the porta potty in front of their house, so I called the builder to complain, and that’s how I met the Grays. 😊

Tibb came by my house a few times in those early years. She loved the teapot wind chime hanging in my yard and asked me to show her how to make them. Over a few visits, she made three—one for herself and one for each of her two daughters. I learned that Tibb has a strong sense of color and style, with definite likes and dislikes. Back then, she was a charge nurse on the third shift, so we didn’t see each other much. I’d usually run into her when I was out walking Missy and she was in the yard with her three grandchildren. I’d stop by, and we’d chat on her front porch for a while. We shared that easygoing friendship for seven or eight years.

Fast forward to the fall of 2023, Tibb underwent major surgery and stayed at a rehabilitation facility for about 30 days. I visited her a few times there and again after she returned home. Then, in February 2024, she received a diagnosis that would change her life. Tibb is unable to move anything below her neck except for the top of her right foot. She moves the top of her foot to activate a mouse-like device which operates a screen/laptop device. As her vocal cords weakened, speaking became more difficult until she could no longer communicate verbally. 

During this season of Tibb’s life, she’s been surrounded by the support of her husband, family, friends, and a special group of Hope Church volunteers. Living just two houses down from Tibb and Robert, I visit her often and have come to know the Hospice care team, the family, and the volunteers—some of whom I am now blessed to call friends too.  From the very start of her diagnosis, I spent so much time with her that I noticed every gradual change, and we formed a special, deep bond through simple eye movements, glances, and nods. She taught me how she needs to be positioned in her chair and how to make the small adjustments to keep her comfortable. 

        

Tibb has two cats, Roberta and Piper. They are sweet cats and Tibb absolutely adores them. At first, they were shy, and I barely saw them, but now they greet me every time I visit. Roberta has this quirky habit of licking my elbow or forearm, while Piper insists on sitting or lying on my phone no matter where I place it. Tibb loves watching every forensic, crime, emergency and rescue show on TV.  I always turn away from the gory parts, but Tibb just laughs at me and my delicateness and remains completely unfazed.

One day I came over and Tibb was watching a video on pimple popping, and I was completely grossed out and Tibb thought this was the funniest thing ever.  The more I went on about how disgusting it was, the more she laughed.  She likes these types of shows, and she enjoys how much I don't. 

The next day I came in, she was watching a YouTube video on pimple popping, again. Roberta came over and immediately started licking my left elbow, while Piper plopped her butt right on my phone beside me. With exaggerated and feigned frustration, I said, “This whole house is nuts—your cat licks my elbow, the other leaves butt marks on my phone, and their mom watches revolting abscesses oozing. Y’all are crazy.” Then I added after a moment, “And yet I keep coming back.” Tibb laughed and laughed, which got me laughing too, and we kept it going for a long time. "And yet you keep coming back" soon became another inside joke we share. 

I try to visit for a little while each day, and lately, we've been sitting together watching TV and having small "talk and type" conversations as the muscles in her foot allows.  I didn't know Tibb very well when she first moved in, but I am so blessed to have this relationship with her now.  Sometimes you treasure the moments spent talking with friends and family, and other times, when the bond is strong enough, you can be comfortable to sit together in silence.  My dear and treasured friend Tibb, you have blessed me, supported me and nurtured me in ways I can never fully repay. I love you, my friend, and you can be sure I’ll keep coming back.

Side note: Tibb has always been a huge supporter of my writing, and when I started again, I’d share each new blog with her. I told her I planned to write one about her, and she rewarded me with one of her signature "Tibb" smiles. I read this to her while it was still in draft form, and it made us both cry. There were a few edits I had to make but she is pleased with it. 💗

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Older than my Father

On January 8, 1999, just 60 days after Bernie Pech, my dad, turned 62 years old, he passed away during an Angioplasty procedure.  

I was 37 then, and 62 seemed so far away from where I was in life. Now, having lived beyond the age my dad reached, I am filled with a mix of emotions and reflections. 

Lately, I’ve been carrying a sense of unease and sadness I can’t quite explain. I’ve had a bad fall, bruised some ribs, aggravated my three compression fractures, we were dealing with Missy’s decline and eventual passing, and watching close friends face serious illnesses. But this sadness felt different somehow, and I couldn’t figure out why.

When I stopped to listen and pray, I realized what was causing my sadness—I am older than my dad ever was. I didn’t feel this way at 63, so why does turning 64—already past his age—feel so different? I've tried many times to get to the core of my feelings and what I have discovered is that my feelings had to do with me and my life. 

My father spent a great portion of his life dealing with inner turmoil.  It wasn't until his mid-fifties that he began making small but important changes. After retiring as a lieutenant colonel from the Army National Guard, he took a part time job at Barnes & Noble and found his niche. He loved reading and was surrounded by people, both young and old, who shared his passion for books, and he was in his element and making friends. 

One of the most significant changes in my father's life came when he began practicing Tai Chi. It brought him the inner peace and serenity he had been searching for. The discipline and patience of Tai Chi challenged him and also fulfilled him, and it was wonderful to see. As for me, it took me a while as well, but I found my joy in the Lord, who gave me the peace and contentment I had been missing for so long. 

I wish my father had lived longer to enjoy this newfound place of contentment. Lately, I have found myself thinking and worrying that I'm not living the years he never had in a way that truly honors him, and I'll always wish he'd had more time to experience his life in this new way. 

My father deserved a better daughter than I was back then. I wish he could have known the person I've become. Now that I'm older - older than he ever was - I realize what a blessing it is to be here and live a joy filled life. I just wish I could have shared that with him.

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Newspaper + Dog = Friendship

In 2011 we moved from CT to Duncan, SC.  We had our dog Ginger with us, and soon after we moved in, I began walking her on the street in front of our house.  Our realtor told us that the elderly woman who lived across the street once owned the property our home was built on.  I had not yet met her, but I noticed she also received the morning newspaper, and the walk to the end of the gravel driveway was about 75 feet long. I was worried about her walking alone on the gravel with her cane, so I stopped by one afternoon and introduced myself.  I told her that I was out early every morning with my dog Ginger and I offered to bring her paper to her door. She told me her name was Ruth Pearson, and she said supposed that would be alright. 

Not too long after, we had lost Ginger to an aggressive cancer, but I kept bringing the paper to her door. It didn't take long for Miss Ruth and me to become friends. Soon, I was bringing her cookies, she was making me Pound Cake - real honest to goodness Southern Pound Cake - and I was coming by for visits.  Most days we'd sit and talked, or crack pecans at her kitchen table - she had a beautiful pecan tree in her front yard which produced a lot of pecans!

Soon, I was taking Miss Ruth to the library—she was an avid reader like me—as well as to the doctor’s, the hairdressers, and the grocery store. We remained good friends until she passed away in 2015 at the age of 91. This treasured friendship began with a newspaper and a dog.

In 2015, we moved to Inman, SC, and had welcomed Missy into our home a few years earlier. We lived in a community of 75 homes with six cul-de-sacs, making it a wonderful place to walk. I’d take Missy out for a stroll in the morning and later go for a faster-paced walk on my own.  

I’d heard about an elderly man who lived on the next street down. He had moved here from Florida with his wife, but just a week later, she suddenly passed away. I'd never been formally introduced to him, yet my heart went out to him.  I noticed he also received the morning paper and though his driveway wasn't long, the slight hill concerned me. So, I began bringing the newspaper to his front door. 

For months I delivered the newspaper without ever meeting him, until one afternoon when I was out with Missy and saw him coming out of his house.  I walked over to introduce myself and Missy, and that's when he told me his name was Emil.  I told him I was the one bringing the newspaper to his door. Apparently, all this time he thought it was the carrier, so he said he always gave him a generous tip!  We had a good laugh about that! 

I had told Emil we lived just up the hill and to let us know if he needed anything. Emil said he was fine, didn't need anything, but he thanked me very much. The next day, I left the paper, some chocolate chip cookies, and my phone number. I didn't see Emil for a few weeks after that, but one day he was waiting for me and Missy to walk by.  He thanked me for the cookies but said that next time he'd prefer them without nuts. And just like that - instant friends. 

I've written blogs about my cherished friendship with Emil (and Ruth)*. He truly was a dear, dear friend, and we always looked out for each other.  Almost every morning, we would sit on his front porch and wave to the people going by. Those are some of my fondest memories, this quiet, peaceful time with my friend Emil and Missy. 

We enjoyed our friendship for about four years before Emil had a mild stroke and moved to the VA hospital.  During COVID, visitors were not allowed except for family, but his son Richard would call me during his visits and hold the phone up to Emil's ear so I could talk to him. Richard always told me that Emil made facial expressions to show that he recognized my voice. Emil passed away in November of 2020. This treasured friendship also began with a newspaper and a dog. 

I felt lost without Emil.  Nurturing has been a deep part of who I am, and after losing Miss Ruth and now Emil, it felt like I had also lost my purpose too. I believed God put me in Duncan to be there for Miss Ruth and then moved us to Inman to be there for Emil. I still trusted that my gift for nurturing would find its place again. I knew it wouldn't come through a newspaper - they don't deliver them anymore - and it wouldn't happen while walking a dog, but I believed it would be revealed to me soon.

Since then, the Lord has blessed me with many dear friends - some I've cared for, and others who've been there for me when I needed looking after. I know with absolute certainty that I've found my purpose and my center - a center grounded in the joy of nurturing and the joy of the Lord. 

* Additional Blogs:  Ruth Jan 2015  /  Emil Dec 2020  /  Emil and Missy Sept 2020  /  Emil, Missy and "Will-Powers" Aug 2020

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Stand by Me - Ben E. King

The song "Stand by Me" was recorded and released by Ben E. King in 1961 when he was 23 years old. At this point there is nothing that I can say about this classic that would be new or different - this song is simply timeless.  Ben E. King 1961

Every time I hear this song, I stop and listen, giving it my full attention.  I love the whole song, but the violin and cellos in the middle are by far my absolute favorite part of the song. 

This 2007 live performance is the one I watch over and over again. At 69, King has likely sung this song countless times, yet the lyrics clearly hold meaning for him. He sings it with the ease of a seasoned artist and the comfort and warmth of returning to an old friend. It’s a wonderful performance.  King sings this song with the respect and admiration it deserves, neither over- nor under- performing it. The expressions on the orchestra members' faces reflect their dedication and respect as well.  Ben E. King 2007

Seeing King in the 1961 video and then again in his 2007 performance, you see a man who has found contentment in life. There’s a quiet yet powerful sense of confidence and peace about him that time has nurtured. He went on to live another seven years, and I pray that those years were filled with the same peace he radiates here.

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People Watching / Airports / Heaven

Earlier this month, my mom and brother flew in from Connecticut for a long weekend visit. Bill dropped me off at the airport, and I waited for Nora and Bernie in the chairs at the bottom of the escalator along with the others. This spot is where everyone exits the airport and goes to pick up their luggage from baggage claim. Since I’d arrived early, I passed the time doing one of my favorite activities—people-watching. It’s always fun, but there’s something especially fascinating about people-watching in an airport. (I also love to watch dogs in cars too and wrote a blog about it, Missy Makes Me Laugh: "Wait for it")

As I sat there, watching people pass by, I'd smile if someone glanced my way, and most of the time I was blessed with a smile in return. I can't say I represent all of Upstate South Carolina, but I hope they remember the stranger who smiled at them and thought, "Wow!  This sure is a friendly state!".

My favorite part of people-watching at the airport is spotting those waiting for someone to arrive. I look for the person in the crowd; eyes fixed on the area where their loved one will appear. I can't get enough of that moment of recognition - both faces lighting up with pure joy and love as they rush to connect and hug.  

I probably watch more than what's considered socially acceptable, but I can't help it. I want to witness it all - the long hugs, the happy tears and the pure joy of people being reunited with someone they love. 

We're not meant to know how we will be welcomed Home this side of Heaven, but I know that the Bible says we will recognize our loved ones. I may not know where I will be waiting, but that's okay, I trust that God has everything planned out.  He will guide me to the place where I can witness the reunions, the homecomings, and all the love and joy that Heaven holds for all of eternity. 

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Dust

If you’re reading this, thank you!  Honestly, if I came across a blog called “Dust,” it wouldn’t exactly be on my must-read list. But that’s just me—I can’t stand dust. More precisely, I can’t stand to dust.

If you’ve been to my house, you can probably guess why. I have countless collections, plenty of treasures, and lots and lots of dust collectors.

Just to be clear, I’m a very tidy person—I vacuum, do laundry, scrub the shower, toilet, and sink—everything. Except dusting. I just don’t like to dust. Bill and I have always moved into a new house about every seven years, so I really never had to worry about dusting.  We would just move. Ha! Why should I bother dusting if we’re going to be moving soon—it felt like something that could wait.😉

I've dusted every way you can think of - a can of Pledge and a rag, using my vacuum with the soft brush attachment, those Swiffer Dusters and even compressed air a few times - I still disliked dusting. Then Bill found these "Dust Gloves" a few weeks back, brought them home and I heard angels sing.

I truly believed these gloves would be life-changing. Why, I just might even enjoy dusting now. Maybe this was all I needed to become a "Duster". Just imagine, I can simply slip on a glove and dust during commercials. I could already picture myself strolling through a room, casually swiping my hand across any surface. Oh yes, I had big plans for me and my Dust Gloves.

This photo on the left was taken when the gloves entered the Alden home on April 13th, and the photo on the right was taken this morning.  As you can see, they are still on my kitchen stool and the tag is still attached. I did pick them up, but not in any way that involved dusting.

After some deep self-reflection, I realized that it is not the lack of having the right equipment that's been keeping me from dusting - I really just don't like to dust.  I'm 63 years and 9 months old and I've decided that dusting just isn't going be my thing. But that's okay, I have plenty of good qualities.  Have you tasted my cookies?!😊 

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Joy

Joy. A three-letter word filled with meaning, hope and peace. Joy, such a wonderful word and feeling. Happiness is also a great feeling, but it's often fleeting, tied to external circumstances. Joy, on the other hand, comes from within, routed in purpose and faith. The word "joy," along with variations like "rejoice" or "joyful," is mentioned over 400 times in the Bible, depending on the source. Happiness fades, but joy endures. 

It wasn't until I focused on "joy" that I felt a true sense of calm - a steady, peaceful feeling inside. Joy and happiness aren't an either-or experience; they can exist side by side. But it is joy that stays in your heart, that place where you can rest and simply be. Once I stopped focusing on whether I was "happy" or "sad", joy was able to fill my heart

I've been making cards for a long time and when it was time to get a personalized stamp, I knew what I wanted it to say: "Created with Love & Joy".

And when I started making quilts, I signed them the same way too.  Whatever I created, I wanted it to be crafted and filled with love and joy.  

This past Christmas, I made small fabric tree tags from quilt scraps, then started creating heart tags with the word "Joy" on them.  I began carrying the tags in my pocketbook with me. I wanted to spread joy with others and to thank and recognize those who had brought joy into my day.  

Since January, I have given away more than 127 Joy tags. They've gone to cashiers with kind smiles, helpful receptionists, little girls with pretty pink bows, friendly security guards and the kind woman at HomeGoods who found me crying in the Pet section just 5 days after Missy passed. When someone brings me joy, or I sense that they could use some, I give them a tag.  

The first Joy tag I gave away was on January 12th at a Publix. A woman was wearing a stunning blue wool coat, and I complimented her on it.  What followed was such a delightful conversation and experience that I knew - this is what I need to do.  This is what I am meant to do at this time in my life; share joy.  When I got home, I started a notebook to record my encounters, because while sharing the joy is wonderful, I also want to remember it.

Before long, I had more than a dozen Joy "carriers" - friends who also carry Joy tags to give away. I've made over 190 tags for them to share, with just one request; that they tell me their stories. I always want to hear the stories.  💖

It's such a simple thing really - noticing someone, appreciating someone's kindness toward you or realizing that someone could use a little kindness. 

Joy is what connects us on a deeper level, and it truly is a wonderful thing to share.

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Bringing Missy Home

Our house is quiet. Whenever the family dynamics changes, it leaves an emptiness. It feels different and I know it will feel this way for a while. You can't lose a sweet dog with such a big personality as Missy without feeling an absence. 

After Missy had passed and Dr. Springs had given us some time with her; she returned with a beautiful basket lined with soft fleece. She and Bill gently lifted Missy into the basket laying her head on the soft white lace-trimmed pillow and adjusting her before covering her with a small gray blanket. 

Bill carried Missy out the front door and gently placed her in the front seat of Dr. Springs' car.  Seeing her laying there in that peaceful surroundings both broke my heart and brought me comfort.  Everything about that day was peaceful and exactly how we prayed it would be as we said goodbye to our sweet girl. 

Since then, the days have also has been filled with so much kindness.  We've received countless beautiful comments on the "Missy Alden" blog, as well as on Facebook and Instagram.  In remembrance of Missy, we received many thoughtful phone calls, cards and gifts - flowers, plants, customized wind chimes, plaques, a tree planted in her name in a US National Forest and a handmade wooden heart. One especially tender-hearted friend brought me warm soup, along with a bag of berries and yogurt knowing I wasn't taking care of myself. It's amazing how a 17-pound bundle of love and wiggles touched so many hearts. 

We got the call from Inman Animal Hospital letting us know that Missy's ashes were there. Dr Tyler Vaughn and all the vets at Inman Animal Hospital had taken such good care of Missy over the past 12 years, handling everything from baths and shots to boarding, annual checkups and everything in between as we worked to manage her increasing pain and anxiety. We got to know them very well over the years and liked and trusted them all.  

The morning we were picking up her ashes, I baked Chocolate Chip Cookies. I often baked for the staff to thank them, and they always enjoyed and appreciated the treats. The cookies were meant to go along with the other things I was bringing, and I wanted them to be warm when we arrived.

I knew that I would be an emotional mess walking into the office and seeing all the staff, and I was. Once again, there was so much kindness, so many hugs and love for us and for the joy that Missy brought them every time she visited. 

We brought Missy home through the front door to complete the circle, and placed her ashes and pawprint in her room, on her bed bathed in the morning sun that she loved so much. 

Lap of Love has locations and veterinarians in 48 states, offering 24/7 support to guide you through the entire process of this difficult and heartbreaking decision. We worked with Dr. Carol Springs, and she was truly an angel.  

https://www.lapoflove.com

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Jennifer Gray

I visited Jennifer at Spartanburg Regional Hospital on the morning of Tuesday, September 9th. Even though it was not yet 9am, her husband Sam, her sister Jill, a nephew and a brother were already there, with many more family members on their way from near and far.  

Jennifer was a devout Christian, and during an earlier visit she shared that she had peace with the diagnosis and decision and simply wanted to go home.  Jennifer came home Wednesday, the next day. On Friday evening, Sam called to let me know that the hospice nurse had just left their home and to give me update me - Jennifer had about a week to live. 

The next morning, I visited with Jennifer in her home and it would be the last real conversation we'd have. After that, I would visit every morning and sit by her side, praying, speaking softly, and caressing her beautiful skin and cheek. They had started giving her strong doses of pain medication to keep her comfortable and she slept deeply with little reaction to noise or touch. 

That Saturday morning, I told her I had written something and I asked if I could share it with her.  She quietly replied, "Please do". This is what I wrote and shared with her that morning: 

"You won't see Jennifer out in the neighborhood - she and Sam don't own a dog, and Jennifer doesn't drive - but if you attended the annual block party, you definitely saw her.  She was the sparkling, smiling gal carrying a platter piled high with fish cakes. 

Always sparkling and smiling, I can't recall a time when she wasn't doing both. She loves her glitter, rhinestones and all things glitzy. Her hat, her nails, her phone case, her shirts, her house slippers, her water bottle - you name it, she added some shine. Sparkle is her favorite "color" and it suits her.  Jennifer radiates faith, joy, kindness and goodness. 

Jennifer and Sam created a cozy and inviting home.  Each visit brought a new discovery - a framed photo, a memento from a trip, or plaque with an inspiring verse.  Jennifer wanted people to feel welcome and comfortable, and I certainly always did. 

If Jennifer calls you a friend, consider yourself truly blessed.  You could be confident knowing she would be a true and loyal friend. Jennifer welcomes you in, cares deeply, listens with her heart and loves openly, all the while sharing her faith and leaving you feeling heard, loved and blessed. 

I feel blessed for all the moments I shared with Jennifer and the many ways she helped me. Not just in the easy conversations, but through the tough ones as well.  She listened and loved with the right balance of compassion and guidance, always rooted in the Word and grounded in love."

I finished up with, "Jennifer, my friend, my dear and treasured friend, I feel proud, honored, and truly blessed to have had you in my life these past four years.  I am grateful for all you've done for me and for others and I love you my precious friend."

Jennifer was crying as I read this to her, as was I. When I finished, we sat in silence for a few moments, me just caressing the beautiful soft skin on her face and hand and loving on her.  I thought she had fallen asleep, but then in a soft whisper she said, "Read it again, gather everyone around and read it again". The family members, about 15 or so, gathered close around the bed and Jennifer softly said, "Janet wrote this for me". 

I read it again for the family. Jennifer was crying, I was crying and several family members were crying as well. When I finished, people came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me.  They thanked me.  Here I was blessed with this beautiful gift of friendship and love from their beloved "Jenny", and it will always be me who will be thankful.  

Jennifer passed September 18th around 9:30pm with Sam and Jill by her side. 

Jennifer, may God, who watches over us and hears us when we pray, grant you eternal rest - you are Home. 

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Missy Alden

 

 

On November 27, 2012, we eagerly and joyfully welcomed 7-month-old Missy Alden to our home.  On March 27, 2026 at 9:30am, with hearts full of sorrow, we said good-bye.

Thirteen years and four months with this sweet, silly, independent, sometimes bratty, people-loving, worm-eating pup who made us laugh and brought joy into our life every day. 

In 13 years, you create countless memories with your dog.  All the little things they do, the quirks and traits they have that endear you, frustrate you but always make your day bright and joyful. 

I started jotting down the little moments with our first dog Ginger.  We had her for almost 12 years before losing her quickly to cancer. Even now, 14 years later, I read the little notes and stories about our sweet, snuggle bunny Ginger, and it all comes back to me like yesterday.  

I did the same thing with Missy, kept notes, and I could list the hundreds of sweet and silly Missy things that made Missy unique. But three things stand out. Three things that brought Missy the most joy.

First there were people. Missy adored people - all people. It didn't matter if you were coming to our house to fertilize the lawn, drop by for a visit or check the HVAC system; Missy eagerly and enthusiastically greeted everyone at the front door. She loved everyone and had the confidence to believe the feeling was mutual.  And it was - Missy made friends with everyone. 

Missy and I went for walks through our neighborhood multiple times a day.  Missy loved her walks, partly for the smells and the dried worms (more on that later), but mostly for the possibility that she would see a friend. In our community of 75 homes, there was always a good chance that Missy would encounter a friend ready to give her ear scratches, belly rubs and plenty of attention.  Whenever we headed out, Bill never knew if it would be a 5 of 45 minute walk - it all depended on who we saw and how much attention Missy required. Everyone loved and welcomed sweet Missy, and she would get so excited to go see her friends. 

Next up was her love for dried worms. Yep, this sweet little goofball loved eating dried worms - the kind that dried on your driveway overnight. Charming trait isn't it! The first thing I did was check with our primary vet to make sure it was not harming her.  He assured us that as long as they were simple earthworms and definitely dead, it was weird - but perfectly fine. 

Missy's worm eating was well-known in Bushfork.  In fact, she often got tips from her friends about where to find the best worms. In all these years, I never figured out her criterial for deciding which worms were worth eating. She would smell the worm, sometimes pass it by, or decide it was a good one and worthy of eating. They all looked the same to me - gross. The crunching sound and the sight of a dried worm dangling out of her mouth was something I just had to accept as a quirky Missy thing. 

The third thing that brought Missy tremendous joy was having the sun on her belly and receiving belly rubs. Show of hands - how many people have been given the privilege of rubbing sweet Missy's belly?  Within moments of seeing Missy, you were shown her magnificent belly.  It didn't matter if you were a stranger, the vet about to give her a shot or one of her neighborhood friends - Missy was on her back, belly up, just waiting for rubs and scratches.  In all these years, there were few that could resist the allure and charm of Missy's belly.  

Soon, it became hard for her to turn onto her back and we knew something was wrong. The past year has been a rough one for Missy. Multiple vet visits and multiple options to try to manage her pain and anxiety. She was mostly deaf and was limited in her vision. She was 14 and her body was getting tired. 

When she no longer wanted to go for walks and would snap or bite if we tried to put the leash on her or approached her the wrong way, we knew we had a hard decision ahead. We knew that we did not want to medicate her further, keeping her in a sedated state would simply not be fair to this sweet girl. 

We wanted someone to come to the house for her transition, we knew that taking her to the vet’s office would have caused her too much stress, and we couldn’t put her through that. We contacted Lap of Love and set an appointment for March 27th. It sounds so final to write it, but it was by no means an easy decision. We discussed it at length, and I kept hoping she’d have a good day again, but she didn’t—every day was just another bad one. We didn’t want to repeat what happened with Ginger, rushing around with a hurting, anxious dog trying to find help. I made an appointment, canceled it, made another and kept it. I wasn’t 100% sure, but the truth is, you never can be. In the end, it was about making a decision and doing what we felt was best for Missy. By having her euthanized at home, we believed we were giving her the peaceful, dignified transition she deserved. She could be in her room, in her favorite spot on the bed in the morning sun. Our decision was made out of love and compassion, doing the best we could for a dog who trusted us her whole life to do the right thing.

My sweet Missy always needed to know where I was, and over the past few months, especially in her last week, she became much more anxious about this. Whether we were at home or outside, she'd constantly come to check that I was exactly where she left me. She'd find me, I would say, "I see you", and she'd go off again for another five or ten minutes, then return again. 

In those last few hours with her, I softly stroked her head and told her how deeply she was loved and how much we would miss her. I assured her that she will always know where to find me. I told Missy that time works differently in Heaven, and before she knew it, she'd look around and see me there smiling and saying "I see you".

"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing?  And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father."  Matthew 10:29 (KJV)

             

* If you make a comment on the blog, please be sure to include your name. For reasons I can't figure out, they all show as "Anonymous"

"My Little Entrepreneur"

So, Missy had her annual checkup last week.  Because of her age, I get the complete blood panel and tests done on her. In addition to the tests, there are the other annual shots, renewal of her Heartworm medication, allergy shots etc and my credit card took a big hit. On the way home, with Missy on my lap, we had the "You need a job" conversation, again. 

Janet: Missy, you need to get a job. 

Missy: I don't need a job.  

Pause....thinking....then apparently, she had an idea!

Missy: Well, you know, people really seem to enjoy rubbing my belly. 

Janet: Missy, you want to charge/shake down people every time they rub your belly? 

Missy: Yes. People really seem to enjoy rubbing my belly. I can charge them $12.00 a belly rub or two for $20.00*.  Let's work on the invoices when we get home. 

So, that is Missy's plan. She intends to charge friends, family and neighbors for providing her with belly rubs. 

She assured me that she will be able to pay off her Vet bill in two months. And off she went into the back yard waiting for her first customer. 

* clearly, she has already given this some thought