All Dogs Go to Heaven

It is funny how certain seemingly inconsequential memories stick in your head for years.  Mine is from a warm autumn Sunday four and a half years ago.  The boys and I had spent a fun afternoon with friends hanging out at the park.  When I got out of the car, enshrouded in my confidence that I was indeed a fantastic mother for giving my kids this wonderful experience,  I looked over to see the tears streaming down the face of my little Prince.

"Prince, why are you crying?"

"I miss my friends!"

Ahh.  Therin lies the problem.  We had just moved up to the farmette full time from the city and when you are ten and you have a fun day in a new place with new friends, it reminds you of the fun days you used to have in your old place with your old friends and that can make you feel even more sad and lonely.  And that is when it happened.

"I am lonely," the sad little Oliver Twist sobbed.

"Do you want a puppy?"

"OK."

Now it probably didn't go down quite like this but I did suggest a puppy almost immediately despite the fact that we already had a 9 month old dog we rescued a few months earlier.  As soon as the words came out I wanted to go just 10 seconds back in time and have a Harry Potter Dementor suck the words and soul out of my body.

The husband was not pleased.

Less than a month later we had a four month old black lab.

The puppy tincture worked for a while. There was talk of taking her for long walks at the lake and she was absolutely going to head of to college with him when the time came.  I could keep Pepper the Great Pyrenees but Athena was all his.  But when the novelty wore off and the loneliness subsided a bit, Athena was left to me.  He still loved her and there were concerns about whether or not she would be too old to go to college with him, but the Timmy and Lassie days were over.

Athena grew into a big sweet pain in the ass. Her entire existence revolved around a neurotic need for love and food.  She could move like a ninja to devour an unguarded plate of muffins on the counter and return to her resting place under the dining room table in seconds.

Her same ninja moves enabled her to escape from the fenced in yard whenever the need moved her which was usually when her people went for a walk through the trails without her.  No matter how many times I was sure she was barricaded in, she would show up tongue hanging down to the ground and tail wagging wherever we were.

Sadly her Houdini qualities cost us all dearly the other night and she was struck and killed by a car.

Scrappy and I clung to each other and sobbed when we found out.  Prince and James Dean cried quietly and even the husband got choked up when we buried her in the backyard.

As we all gathered at the grave united in our sorrow and the absolute knowledge that if there is a heaven, Athena had a non-stop flight there, we hugged and consoled each other. Sure, we had the chicken massacre and we put Billy Beef in the freezer, but this was different. Athena was family.

Walking back toward the house, I realized that my memory from four and a half years ago was anything but inconsequential.  It was a memory of agreeing to give my son one of the greatest gifts anyone can know; the love of a dog.  Athena's love and loyalty were unwavering.  She had a gentle nuzzle when I was sad and tried relentlessly to cheer me when I was mad. Popcorn Bowl moments are not always happy ones, but Athena's death is one that the five of us will all share for years to come. Strangely, having her buried out by the blackberry briar makes the Farmette 2.0 seem like even more of a home than any other place we have lived.  Where there is loss there is also love.