meet georgie

This is the newest addition to our family. I originally did not plan on getting another dog this soon (today is exactly one month since we had to put Tea to sleep). I wasn't sure I would be "ready" to do this again ever, let alone so quickly. But I guess things happen for a reason. I saw this one's face on Petfinder and was smitten. And Brian and I found ourselves taking a trip through time on Saturday morning. Let me explain.

Nine years ago, on the Saturday of Easter weekend, we took off in the wee hours of the morning, headed to Richmond, Virginia...to an animal foster home to see a dog I'd found on Petfinder. That dog was Tea.

As the details of our getting Georgie were finalizing, and I realized that Easter weekend was looking like when we'd go pick her up, I couldn't help put think that this was meant to be...that we were getting some divine-like intervention from our cheese-loving beagle.

And so this doesn't stay a tear-inducing blog post (like my last entry), I'm going to close with a chuckle, a picture of what is apparently one of Georgie's favorite sleeping positions.

one step up and two steps back

I have been having mixed emotions about blogging lately. I felt the need to blog, just so that Tea's "obituary" wasn't at the top anymore....trying to move the entry and the event from my present to my past. I didn't have a new topic...nothing much has been going on but the grief process around here, and I was really trying to avoid doing an actual entry about what happened in the days leading up to February 24th and in the days since. But I'm not sure its something I can avoid.

What I think I want to talk about is progress.

Every time I think I am doing better, taking the step forward to which my title alludes, something happens that makes me lose ground. The first time it happened was within that first week after we put Tea to sleep. I was just starting to adjust to her not being here, to coming in the door from work and not hearing her jump off the couch, and the click of her nails on the hardwoods as she'd come to the top of the stairs, then jump down a couple so that she could do her "spydog" routine, peeking through the spindles of the staircase to see who was there, to not having her put me to bed at night. I had been able to make it two days without crying. I wouldn't say that I was okay, but I was moving forward. Then there was a voicemail from the vet's office, saying that the crematory had returned her ashes and we could come pick them up. That was the first backstep.

I made the decision on my own that I would go to the vet's to pick her up. It wasn't the first time that I forced myself into that kind of situation, to face my fear head on. In the days following my mom's death, I took it upon myself to return to the hospital where she died, to pay a bill from her stay. I didn't have to do that; we obviously could have mailed the payment. But I did it on purpose, because I didn't want to spend the rest of my life afraid of that place, to have her death be my last memory of there, so that when and if the time ever came that someone else I cared about was in that hospital, I wouldn't be afraid to go back there. Granted, I had a panic attack/bizarre experience in the car as I drove through the parking lot, but I know in my heart that I could walk back in there now and be absolutely fine. Anyway, I didn't want my last memory of the vet's office to be the day we said goodbye to Tea, I didn't want to have anxiety about walking through the office door in the event we were ever to have another pet. So, a couple of days after the phone call, I made a point to stop at the vet's office on the way home.

The entire way there I was fine. I didn't really psych myself up for it, I just looked at it as something that had to be done. I was even okay when I pulled into the lot and saw two dogs being walked outside the office....and then when I went inside and saw two more dogs, who I had to stand in line behind while their mom paid her bill. The first crack came when I made eye contact with the receptionist, who also happens to be our vet's wife. Marian has always been slightly aloof, personable enough, but usually reserved and somewhat distant. Now when she looked at me, she was different, there was actually some emotion in her face, not one that I could pinpoint, but her facade had faded and she seemed more human. After the dogs and their mom from in front of me left and I stepped up to the counter, Marian told me that she was very sorry, and handed me a cardboard box and an envelope. I could barely choke out a thank you before I ducked for the door. I saw our vet out of the corner of my eye, coming out of his house and heading for the office, but I purposely did not make eye contact or any kind of acknowledging gesture, just because by that point, I had to get to the car, I knew I couldn't hold it together too much longer. I got to my car and barely got the door closed behind me before the tears started to fall. I drove home sobbing, petting the cardboard box that held the wooden box with her ashes. I thought that was the last hard thing I'd have to do in the process. Almost, but not quite.

When Brian got home tonight, he brought in the mail. In it was a sympathy card from the vet's office. I opened it up and before I even read any of the words, I realized that the vet himself had written the note inside. It wasn't just some one or two sentence sentiment either.....he covered the entire surface of the inside of the front panel of the card. And that's when the water works started tonight. They only got worse when I read what he actually wrote. And we won't even get into "The Rainbow Bridge"....have you read this? You might just as well have pulled my heart out of my chest and thrown it on the floor.

One thing I haven't done is I haven't gotten rid of any of Tea's things yet. I keep thinking that I will be okay doing that. Then again, I thought I would be okay going to the vet and we see what happened there. Certain things of hers I can't look at: I put her food bowls in a spot in the utility room where you don't see them every time you go in there, and I had Brian move her leash and collar out of my car the day we went to the vet to say goodbye and I still don't know where they are. But there are other things of hers, her beds, her toys and the loveseat that we called her couch that I see and walk past every day and am fine.

And then there is the idea of another dog. I remember thinking in the days just before and just after we lost Tea that I would never want or be able to have another dog, that Tea had spoiled me for any dog that came after her. But then the more days that passed, the more I started to realize that I'm not sure that I like *not* having a pet. I suddenly have a very hard time sleeping on nights that Brian is working, and even just being alone in the house at night in general. Not that Tea was a guard dog or in any way threatening, but she was still here. I can't help but feel a little bit selfish that getting another dog so soon is just for my needs. But before I knew it, I found myself poking around Petfinder last week..."just to see what was out there". Famous last words. I had the same attitude when I found Tea on there 9 years ago. And of course I found a dog....with a sweet face, which is what got me with Tea's picture on the website way back then. Mind you, Brian and I had not had the "new dog" discussion when I went looking around. Once I found this dog, I knew I'd have to do it sooner rather than later. I brought up the subject tonight. It went like this:

me - "what do you think about getting another dog?"

him - "eventually"........pause........"why, did you find one?"

And that was about that. I showed him the picture, he asked me some questions, among them how far away the town is that she is in and why I can't find a dog around here (this dog is in NY state, about 2.5 hours from here, and with Tea, we drove 9 hours to Richmond, Virginia to get her). So I've got an email out there to the place that has her, and we will see what happens.

Jeez, I'm just looking back over my post. So much for not talking about things, hunh? I think I got into a little more detail than I wanted to or planned on, but hey, it is what it is.