All Our Children Meow and Woof: August 2008

On Friday, my husband and I will say good bye to a dear friend. He has been a large part of our life for eight years and endured many ups and downs with me. Normally, I would write this after we say our final good byes but I feel like I need to do this know while he is still with us. I am not ready to use the past tense when speaking about our Finnegan. Our big loving boy Finnegan, the Irish Wolfhound, who will always be part of my heart.

Dear Finnegan,

You came to us during a time in my life where I didn't think I could leave the house again. I felt enormous anxiety that spiraled into depression, fear, and shear panic. I worried that I would be unable to work, shop, or even marry the love of my life. And then youy came home to us. Despite my intense fear of being outside my house, I began to take short walks around the block with you, our goofy, gangly, awkward Finny. Although my shoulders felt tense when I'd first walk out the door into the hot Utah air, slowly, a smile would form on my face as I'd watch this ridiculous boy trot along the sidewalk. Next came human interaction with puppy class and then the pet store to buy food and finally, you brought me out of my shell and returned me to state of wellbeing.

You continued to help me stay stable through after work visits to the dog park and longer hikes in the foothills. When we made our trip across country, you seemed to be the only stable critter in my car. Did I mention I drove the car with all four animals from Utah to Pennsylvania? Thank you, Finny, for being the normal one who would listen to me bitch about traffic, the lack of radio stations, and yes, be subjected to Donald the cat lunging from his carrier at you. But we made it.

Sadly, I could not bring you with me to law school during my first year. However, we changed that situation by finding a pet friendly apartment. Our walks together in the neighborhood (well more so third year) allowed me to release my stress and be in the moment. You are always in the moment with your enduring love.

We returned home to The Prof and enjoyed being a family again. However, in less than a year after we returned home, the limp came. I knew deep down this was not a good thing but hoped maybe you tripped in the yard. That does happen to us from time to time. We are klutzes after all. But of course, it was the bad, the evil, the bone cancer. Due to your spirit and the fact we caught this nasty cancer so early, we decided to treat you. The beginning was sad and full of regrets but because you are such a strong stoic dog, you proved us wrong. You hopped, then walked, and then trotted around the backyard with the energy of a puppy. The pain in the wrist was gone and you wanted to show us every was fine now.

Despite the facts and figures and median survival rates, you surpassed all of our expectations with the grace only a sight hound knows. You enjoyed two full years with us without a complaint and without any signs of suffering. And to be sure, we wanted you never to be in pain or suffer or not live the life you deserved. And you did for much longer than we could ask.

But sadly, your time with us is coming to a close. That strength you hold is slipping fast. Although you try so very hard to be strong for us, it is time to give the gift of letting you go. To let your beautiful soul move out of that weak and sick body to watch over us forever. The next twenty-four hours will be a sacred time for us. We promise to give you all the love in our hearts and when the time comes, we promise to be strong for you as you have been for us.

We love you so very much and will miss you. There will never be another dog as magnificent as you. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of your life.

With all the love.

(Cross posted on my other blog Fretting the Small Stuff)