It's All Worth It!

I was sitting with a client the other day going over some questions I had for the audit. As we were actually looking at paper and not the computer, my screen saver came on after a few minutes. Like any good mom, my screen saver is scrolling pictures from my laptop. Most of which are, you guessed it, puppies.

She watched for a few minutes. Then commented. "There's so many. How do you set yourself up for that much heartbreak?"

In 2001 I asked myself a similar question, only it was more in the form of "What have I done?" Although our sweet little Stormy was our second "baby" she was the first one we lost. She was 11 years old and had silently developed a heart disease. We didn't know until it was too late. She died in my arms.

Billy and I took it extremely hard. I guess because it was so unexpected and all. And it felt just so unnecessary since she'd been nothing but a little bundle of love and joy and happiness and I couldn't believe she'd been taken from us. I remember driving away from the emergency clinic, carrying out a box containing my angel, and screaming at the sky. And yelling to my daddy that he would have to look after Stormy now and I was pretty sure his allergies wouldn't bother him in Heaven.

And later it hit me. I would have to go through this 3 more times, and probably sooner rather than later. Christy was a year old than Stormy and Molly was less than a year younger. (Midnight was new to our family and only about 4 or 5 years old at time so she I wasn't worried about, yet anyway.)

What had I done? I had set myself up for heartbreak.

Repeated heartbreak.

So, I understood her question.

She told me that she'd lost three dogs in about the last three years and couldn't imagine getting another one and having to go through that again.

I understood her sentiment.

But for us, getting more was just a no-brainer. Look at all these faces!
















What a group!!

Having been through it three times myself, each time extremely painful, I still can't imagine opening my front door at night and not seeing this! They come out of the woodwork - literally it seems sometimes - and come running up to me. Falling all over each other, trying to get to the front. Knocking over pictures and anything else in the way of a wagging tail, excited yips and yaps echoing through the entry hall.

That is why we do it.

Though I could be all altruistic and say it is all about saving the puppies from a certain demise (all the ones currently in our house are rescues of some sort) but it really is for us. Our pleasure. Our happiness. Our enjoyment.

Sure, it hurts when they leave us. But that's Life, isn't it? Life without some pain is really just going through the motions. Pain is growth. And living with them has taught me so much about myself. I can do things - Mommy Things - that I'd never dreamed I could do, just to take care of them as best we can.

Because I think it's all worth it. When you're tired and they curl up next to you, head on your lap. When you're ready to scream at the next person that cuts you off in traffic but come home to puppy slobber all over your face. When something else in your world has saddened you and all you need is a smile. They are always there.

Always loving. Never judging. Ready for anything, or nothing at all. Teaching us.

Yes, I will cry when I can't see my blue-eyed Frankie any more and my heart breaks a little every time Riley has a seizure episode. I worry about all of them. Sure, we could have more money and tons of free time if we didn't have them to look after. With no two-legged children to tie us down we could be free as birds. But it seems awfully empty. A life unfulfilled.

Hardly sounds worth living, now does it?