About 10 years ago, I faced one of my hardest days of my life to-date. My childhood dog and sole apartment-mate, Brinn, was having trouble walking. She was 14 years old, and had begun to get frail. She shivered most of the day, had trouble getting outside to go to the bathroom, and she was getting thin. It all seemed manageable until one day, it appeared that she no longer was able to control her back legs. I called my mother who lived nearby, and we agreed to go together to the vet. I think my mom had more wisdom than I did about what that day would bring.
The vet told us that Brinn was suffering. That at her age, she would not get better. That I had a choice to make. I fell apart. I had been through a lot over the course of the last few years leading up to that day, and I let it all go. I mourned the loss of my childhood companion, a member of my family, and one more connection to the family the family that I had growing up. I let go the tension that I had built up after my parent’s separation. I cried about the loss of my first post-college job. I sobbed about my financial situation. I lost self-control as I fell into a puddle on the floor of the vet’s office.
Over the course of the next few days, my family brought me back to life. My mother and sister helped me clean out my apartment of Brinn’s items. They took me out to dinner and spent time comforting me. My dad and sister took me out for a picnic a few days later. It was then that my dad suggested that we go and look at dogs at the animal shelter. Not that Brinn could be replaced, but that maybe I needed a little hair of the dog. In this case, in a pretty true sense of the phrase.
And then there was light.
That afternoon, my dad took me to the York County Humane Society. They happened to have a fresh litter of puppies. I think I smiled and laughed for the first time in days. The pups clamored and nipped, yipped and played. One puppy, with one-blue eye and one-brown eye, caught my (both blue) eyes. I picked her up, and snuggled her. She promptly peed on me. I giggled at the thought that my hot-mess-of-a-self could make another being so happy it peed. I knew she was “the one.” I told me dad, and we made arrangements to adopt her.
Her name is Molly Mae, and now she’s 10 years old. As a puppy, she ate my kitchen cabinets, disposed of more expensive cell phones than I can count, and tore off wallpaper from my apartment’s walls. She also barked her little head off at a lurker outside my bedroom window when I was home alone one night. In later years, she dug massive holes of frustration when we brought home our first human-baby, and then fell in love with both my boys. She “babysat” Will when he was in his bassinet and sleeps with Graham at night.
Molly Mae is an integral part of our family. We make sure that she’s loved, well fed, and healthy. She gets treated with respect by everyone, and I think that love and respect is returned unconditionally. I thank the American Humane Society for taking in pups like Molly and ensuring that they find loving homes. And, it was only natural that when I was approached to be a Sergeant Blogger Ambassador I readily accepted. I’m proud to speak on behalf of Sergeant Pet’s commitment for “emBARKing” on pet health. Why wouldn’t we want these sweet creatures to have the best chance at a healthy life?
Please take a moment to take this simple pledge. Each pledge will trigger the donation of a Sergeant’s Pet Health Kit, which with the help of American Humane Association, will be sent to one of the millions of animals waiting for their forever homes at local shelters nationwide. Sergeant’s Pet Care Products is committed to donating up to 5,000 kits, which will ensure that these animals are sent home with all the products they need to get started on a healthy and happy life together after adoption.
*As a Blogger Ambassador for Sergeant Pet, I have been given product and compensated for my time. All opinions are my own.