I'm not too good at anniversaries. If you have crummy, bummy memories of something that happened nine years ago or a year ago, what's the point in dwelling on them?Moving on. Healthier.
Then, I thought: My little Bean Sprout died a year ago tomorrow, and I've had a weepy face all day. Press on my cheeks too hard, and tears squirt out.
I'm not unhappy. Just remembering, and missing, him. A lot.
But then! There's this tornado, virago, volcano of a new puppy in my house. She's been here almost a year. Bartlett, the pogo stick. She is lovely but not necessarily loving. This morning she demonstrated that she is Perfectly Good at giving little kiss-licks to my nose. She eats her food without prodding (or hogging), and does her stuff outside. Plays with her chase-fetch toy like a crazy lady. (That tires her out, and a tired dog is a good dog.)
She's gonna be great. I just never thought it would take this long.
Bean Sprout was a little pookie powder puff from the day we brought him home.
I'm fine.
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12 comments:
The great thing about blogs is that I get to meet people who I really don't know and will never really know, but love. Warm Fuzzies to you.
I so get it. Last Sunday my mother called to remind me that Monday was my aunt's birthday and was I planning to do anything special. I told her, "It's been two years," but I thought, "Yeah, I do. I plan to live." I'm not against remembering but does it only have to be about the sad parts when the reason why you remember that other being that was once a part of your life was all the happiness they added to your life? I like to give myself a certain amount of time to cry -- and then I smile and laugh like crazy at all the good memories.
Bean Sprout will always be missed in some way.
Just a very warm hug going your way.
I'd lick you nose if I was there - I know how you feel, a bit, probably :(
Yellow: How cool, one, that you are a Yellow Dog (and I've seen you before). Two, how cool that you live in a Blue State. I am as in love with you. Thanks for the warm. Needed it.
Kailyn: Well, your mom is a little hard on you. I love how you and your aunt kicked it. Thanks for the Bean Sprout love, which is how I met you.
Sally: Big thanks. I know how you carry a grief, and it's kind of you to be sweet.
Angel Mouse: (Hah!) I want that lick.
I met you through Bean Sprout so I will always be grateful to the little mite. Dog lovers and cat lovers and, well, pet lovers all get it. We send comfort.
No licks on the nose (if you don't mind) but how about a kiss on the cheek and a big hug! I know about love and grief; I'd had plenty now in my 65 years. Today I'm going to a memorial to an African-American year old lady who died two weeks ago. She lived to be 88 and saw huge changes in her life time bug she never lost her joie de vie.
Zoomie: I'm sort of enjoying the mourning. It's very sharp and deep and real, and I think the little kid deserves it.
Nancy: You are a Good Person.
Yes. If you didn't love him, you wouldn't miss him now. He was lovable and missable. I still love that he wagged his tail in his dreams.
Cookiecrumb,
It is so true that our heart's are big enough to allow new love's and experiences in.
And yet, those don't replace the loves we have lost. I am glad that your Sprout was so special and precious that she impacted your life so meaningfully.
She sounds very worthy of your tears and your fond remembrance!
Zoomie: I hate to use this podium to diminish Bean Sprout's fabulousness, but have I told you Bartlett also wags her tail when she dreams! I am so lucky.
Shine: Many thanks. I adjusted to Bean Sprout's death really quickly, because he was so terribly sick. Encephalitis. So now, I'm just mourning in a loving, remembering way. And thinking, "That Damn Dog."
Tee Hee Oops, sorry Cookie, every time we discuss your pups I get the pronouns wrong. Your post had clearly stated Sprout was a HE. Think I need to increase the amount of brain-building veggies I'm consuming :)
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