Crossing the Rainbow Bridge...

I just tearfully read a high school friend's blog about her dog's death yesterday, his "crossing the rainbow bridge." In my early days with Sadie, I remember how often I cried just thinking about the day that this "might" happen to her; I couldn't even deal with "would." Honestly, I could be getting ready for school, look down at her, think about not having her there someday, and just begin to sob.

I took her to the vet one afternoon several months after I first adopted her and planned for her to spend that night and the next day to give me a much-needed break. It would be my first time away from her. As a part of my "vacation" I decided to catch up on my reading; unfortunately the next book on my list was Marley and Me. I was at the vet's at 7 am the next morning to pick her up, with my eyes swollen, my nose red. I didn't let her out of my sight all day.

Sadie and I have a special connection stronger than any I have had with family dogs or cats I have owned. It's as if we can read each other. I feel like I know what she's thinking, and I know she has my number. We are simpatico.

I didn't plan for us to have that bond, and when I deal with Murphy, I feel a little guilty because we don't have that same connection...not yet anyway. I have only had him 6 months to Sadie's 4-1/2 years which surely factors in. Frankly, I would prefer to have Murphy draped across my lap because he is so solid and cuddly. Murphy is the one who will lay at my feet, and I love knowing that he is there. He is a big lick just waiting to happen. He adores me. But it's just not the same; Sadie and I communicate.

At times it makes life much harder for me, this connection we have. I am well aware of her feelings about my asking Murphy to join our merry band. "We are not pleased, " her look says. When Murphy does something incredibly klutzy or annoying, Sadie looks at me as if to say, "Did you mean to keep him???" I keep hoping things will settle down, but mercy does not yet overfloweth from Sadie on this issue. When she thought he was a week-end guest, she was thrilled, but living with us 24-7? Not so great.

Sometimes Sadie feels like she has to come to my rescue. If Murphy is particularly energetic (which he is every single day until 7 pm when he crashes, thank God!) then I will open the door with an exasperated "OUTSIDE, MURPHY!" Sometimes he goes right out, but more frequently he waits until Sadie joins him. So Sadie will run out the door, Murphy will follow ready for a romp, and Sadie will duck back in as I am closing the door. Sadie inside, Murphy outside...mission accomplished. However, as Sadie heads back to her favorite spot for some solitude, I can almost hear her mutter, "Do I have to do everything around here?"

Sadie has a joie de vie that makes my life a better place. When she is not in judgment of me, she can be quite hysterical. If she wakes up before I do, I will pat the bed and say, "Okay!" Up she jumps, runs up to my face and noses around. She doesn't lick me or touch me; she just noses around, darting her head in at various angles. It's part of her game. Then after that she goes to the other side of the bed and smashes herself up against me from behind, starting at my neck. She nuzzles her full 60 pounds of pressure down along my back, and then she lies down next to me, waiting until it's time for me to get up. This never varies, not even one little bit. It's like being in the movie Groundhog Day.

Sadie greets the day ready to go. Not Murphy; it's quite clear that he's an adolescent. But Sadie is up and ready for "whatever" bright and early each day. It's hard for me to believe that she's five because in the mornings she's a pup again. She's the one who gets me going lots of mornings. "Get up! Get up! Get up! Let's get out there!" It's hard to resist, and I am thankful for her contagious enthusiasm.

Recently I was at the vet's waiting to check on Murphy's upset stomach. As I watched, a sad scenario unfolded. An elderly couple had brought their dog in that morning because he was vomiting blood. I could see the scene unfold as the decision was made to put their dog to sleep - undoubtedly the last dog they would have. It seemed that the days of raising a puppy were long gone for them. They went into the "special room" and were in there for a long time. When they finally came out and headed for the door, the elderly man looked around at those of us in the waiting room. It was as if he needed to include us in his grief. He had a sweet little smile on his face, but he had clearly been crying. The wife was more stoic as she walked out behind him, looking straight ahead. All I could think to do was pat his arm as he went by. I left her to her solitude. It was a while before I could talk to anyone, the vet included.

I think that Sadie and Murphy could well be my last dogs- my first dogs (that have been mine alone) and my last dogs. Oh, I might get little yapper some day, but these will probably be my last who are what I think of when I think of dogs.

So after reading my friend's column today, I find myself thinking about Sadie and how life would be without her, my little soul mate. I think myself thinking about my friend and the grief she must feel right now; I can't imagine, and I hurt for her. And I hurt for all of us who will have to deal with that at some point.

Finally, don't worry about Murphy. He's nowhere near the orphan train, and we are making great strides weekly if not daily. We will be as thick as thieves someday; I am not concerned about that. Right now he just has so many bad ideas; on occasion he will even knock me over which doesn't warm the cockles of my heart. However, I see some small changes, and I have hope. We are a work in progress, and to be honest, so were Sadie and I in those earliest days. Just look how far she and I have come!