Joy Outweighs Grief (Bot9 #342)
It’s been a year of some significant firsts in my life. This week, we had to put down one of our dogs. That was a first for me.
We adopted our dog, Valor, on Labor Day of 2019, roughly the same period of time when I returned to the school of the same name. Our daughter noticed him on a social media feed and said we had to get him because of his name. Sure seemed like a great fit. We learned about his story soon after. His hips and back legs had to be rebuilt with plates and rods because of the abuse he had endured. He had never seen or navigated stairs. He was so docile and fearful. Bringing him out of that shell, building trust with him, showing him love, was a little story of redemption and restoration for one of God’s creatures.
As we’re now a few days away from saying goodbye to him, I’ve been reflecting on the daily occurrences that I’m going to miss about him. His nails on the floor was one of the first things I would hear each morning followed by a gentle whine to go outside. I’m going to miss that little whimper.
He was so good, so trainable, that we were able to teach him to “wait” before going outside. Once we released him to go out, he would take a couple of steps, slide to the end of the deck, and release a little growl. He was letting the neighbor dogs know he was out and hoped they were going to come out so they could run up and down the adjoining fence barking at each other. I’m going to miss that slide and growl.
Over the past year or so, I’d greet him with an ear rub. My hands covering and massaging his ears became our routine, a way to show him love he liked. I’m going to miss putting his head in my hands and massaging those ears.
He helped us get through a really difficult time. A few months after welcoming him into our home, we were stuck at home for the Covid shutdown. Both kids had dogs for the first time, we had dogs to bring on walks to absorb the long stretches of time, and we had dogs to sit with on the couch. We helped him, but there’s no doubt that we had his help as well.
In the end, the joy of having Valor for the time we did will outweigh the grief we feel in this moment. I can’t write this without tearing up. I started writing this on the plane the night we put him down and had to close the computer because I was too emotional. This morning, as Alyson and I were walking into our coffee date, she started crying about him and needed a hug. The grief comes in waves. But, in the end, joy will outweigh that grief. Our memories with him will become nostalgic and the hard days at the end will be absorbed by the daily reminisces of his uniqueness. There will be no replacing him, but there will be overwhelming joy we had him.