Heaven

I am a blog stalker.

And I’m not too proud to admit it.

I could sit here all morning eating Lucky Charms and reading blogs. Not that I do that all day long, just every morning.

I’ve been noticing though, lately, that the ones that I seem most drawn to are those that are the most honest. Those that spill their guts, if you will. And I’ve been thinking that I need to be more that way. I’m somewhat of a private person, I think. I’m not one to cry a lot. Especially in front of people. I’m not one to post the ins and outs of what’s happening on in my life. On Facebook I post stuff like “The Boy forgot to wear underwear to school today” (true story) as opposed to my thoughts on whatever real challenges I’m facing at the time.

I love to post pictures and let them do all the talking. But lets be honest pictures don’t always tell the full story.

So today is my first attempt at making things more real.

Today I’ll share my reality. My dog died yesterday. And I’m crushed.

The very dog who joined our family just 5 short months ago. He came into our lives just about as quickly as he left. He chewed up and swallowed part of a blanket, in his kennel. While he did throw some back up the result was surgery to remove most of his small intestines. But it in the end it was too much for his little body to handle. I’m so very grateful to him for not making me make the final decision for him. It was his last gift to me, I believe.

I think a part of me is still in shock how quickly his life has ended. I never imagine that his life would be so short. But I must say these past months of having him with us have done much for me. I’m not sure I’ve realized this until now. Isn’t that usually how life goes? I will miss him so. It’s the little things that seem to tug on my hear the most. Feeding one dog last night. Coming home this morning and letting one dog out of his kennel. Everything is still so fresh and so raw.

Yesterday, after he was gone, many of my tears were for my children. I was so worried about how I would tell them and how they would react. I cried and worried until my head felt like it would split open. Once I got the kids home I pulled them close to me and told them all that had happened. When I said those final words the look of shock and instant tears on Miss Things face will stay with me for a time, I believe. As a tender mercy her tears did not last too long. The rest of the day was spent answer her seemingly endless stream of questions. It didn’t take long for her to be ready for a new dog. “Because we need two dogs. And we need a girl dog. And we’ll name her Lisa.” I’m not sure I’m quite as ready as she is.

Many of her questions centered around what happens to us after we die. We told her that Lukas was now with other dogs we have loved. With Lola, Hersey & Fudge, and Meeka. But that wasn’t quite enough. To watch her mind work around these things and take them in and try to understand them was somewhat therapeutic for me. She wanted to know how it was that he was now playing with them. Where exactly is he. After I did my best to explain that we all have a body and a spirit I sent her to David. Then I sat at the top of the stairs and listened as he used a glove and her hand to better explain in. I think things were starting to come together for her. But I know, too, by the fact that she could not go to sleep last night that she was still working things out in her mind.

Even with all of this I was amazed at how matter-of-fact she was about Lukas’ passing. When her dad walked in the door she ran to  him and said, without much emotion “Lukas died.” Then she told me later that she tried to tell Jefferson, even though he kept running away from her.

I have much to learn from her. It brings new meaning to the scripture in Matthew “become as little children.”

Lukas, like any other puppy, was a little high strung a lot of the times. I won’t say that everyday was giggles and candy with that boy. But he gave much to me. He quickly became “my dog,” which is what I so needed. The last day of his life, while very mellow, was spent following me around. Snuggling with me. Often he would look at me with his big brown eyes and perhaps now, looking back, he was trying to tell me that everything would be alright. That I would be alright.

Tomorrow we will bring his little body home and burry him in the backyard. Then in the spring we will find a bush to plant on his grave. And every time I look at it I can be reminded of him and that I am alright.