In case it isn’t obvious, my hands are full. My kids, my home, my running, I have plenty to do. I didn’t really need anything else on my plate. But I wanted a puppy. For selfish reasons, really. Because I adore Abbi, and her companionship is integral to my day. Though she’s still young, I have had a creeping fear of losing her and of the horrible void that would leave. Her mortality paralyzed me with fear. I knew that I couldn’t abide the void she would eventually leave.
So, along came Meg. Meg is a feisty, naughty, stubborn dachshund. And she’s perfectly wonderful.
The joy I feel when I pick her up and she wiggles all over and snuffles at me, well, it’s just about as wonderful as the joy I feel when I remove Abbi’s leash and watch in awe as she bounds off into the woods, with more grace and beauty than my heart can hold.
I never knew I was a dog person. We had cats growing up, and I loved them too, so I assumed that I wasn’t a dog person because I was a cat person. As an adult we don’t have cats because of allergies, and come to find out, I’m a dog person too.
And now, with my two sweet, and totally opposite dogs filling my home and heart, I recognize what a void I had in my life without Meg. And now that void is overflowing with joy.