As we set out I looked at the dogs we were walking and wondered how we had gotten to this point. It wasn't just that we were out walking dogs on Derby, you know instead of being at Derby or recovering from Derby, or attending a ball (we did attend a wonderful Derby party which like all genteel parties breaks up immediately following the final race). No it wasn't just those things--it was the TYPE of dogs we were walking.
I looked over at Chris and said, "Remember when we were first married and we walked our three dogs but we were so much more hip and cool? No one seeing us walk these three now will ever think we're cool." Chris looked over at me clearly wondering whether he should once again have his mental passport stamped and enter my delusional world..."Darlin'," he slowly began, "We have never been hip or cool." I pouted for the next 2 blocks.
I am still not going to concede that we weren't at least a little bit hip and cool, but I will say our three dogs then and our three dogs now say a lot about our lives...
Then--when Chris met me I had a yellow lab, Pooh. I received Pooh as a gift from a former student's family after a heart breaking break up. Pooh was my companion easing my loneliness and healing my heart. Chris knew the reason for Pooh's existence in my world and embraced and loved me and Pooh anyway. (He also made my heart brand spanking new!) It didn't take long for Pooh to become "our" dog. Shortly after we were engaged Chris's parents moved (briefly) to California and we inherited another yellow lab, Haley, and a springer spaniel, Rocky (who also makes my crazy self look totally normal...). Chris drove one of the earliest explorers (doesn't that make us a little cool), and we often took the dogs with us hiking and biking.
It wasn't long before I was pregnant with SK and handling 3 dogs in the Augusta summer months was less than ideal, so we asked my parents if they would keep Pooh, the youngest and most able to climb fences and explore the neighborhood, until after the baby was born. Several days later when I stopped by my parents' home they were having an invisible fence installed. I didn't have to be a rocket scientist (which is a good thing because I wasn't) to figure out we weren't getting Pooh back.
But you know what? Pooh continued his ministry of loving, faithful, loyal companionship and became my mother's constant side kick during some of her most lonely years.
Several weeks before SK was born Haley, the oldest of the dogs, died of organ failure while Chris stroked her head after having made the difficult decision of telling the vet it was time to stop treatment. That tenderness, love and ability to make hard, loving, and self sacrificing decisions was a glimpse for me into the husband and father Chris would be for the next 25 years (and counting).
My in-laws returned to their beloved Louisville within a couple of years and we returned Rocky. (It was good timing I was pregnant with our fourth and Rocky was still chasing dirt...)
Fast forward to this year (and multiple dogs later) we are walking Winnie, our favorite--shhh don't tell, the labradoodle we got right before SK left for college. She didn't fill the hole but she helped--she became my running companion and Chris's mountain bike companion, not to mention the best "welcome home" greeter as the children have one by one graduated and moved on but come home and provide a bed for Winnie. (Chris and I do not allow her to sleep with us...)
We are also walking Bobby the "teddy bear" puppy Caroline wanted from Santa in the fifth grade. In an attempt to have her believe in Santa for one more year, these "we'll never have small dogs" parents bought the puppy. She named him Bobby after Chris's grandfather who had died 8 days before Christmas. (Do not point out the fact that 7 years later we still have the small constantly barking
dog and she no longer believes in Santa---that was just one of the many passport stamps Chris has accumulated over the years....)
And finally we have Casey the king charles spaniel we adopted when Chris's grandmother could no longer care for him. Unfortunately for Casey, he went from being the pampered only dog at a peaceful senior citizen apartment building to becoming one of the 3 (and possibly the least favorite) dogs in a rambunctious, revolving door home.
As Chris and I continued walking that evening and as I think about it now, I will not relinquish all of my fantasy that we were a teensy bit cool, but I will say our dogs say something about us as a couple and how we've lived our lives--how we've attempted to live our faith.
In our home and in our lives, all are welcome; we can adapt and change; we believe no one should ever be without a home or a place to feel safe and secure. We are willing to be the stop gap or place of refuge for however long someone needs it, and we are willing and able to let go when it's time for others to move on. We want to share our love with others even when it means losing something ourselves. We choose people, dogs and relationships over calm and quiet. We are able to make hard and loving decisions--sometimes breaking our own hearts. And whoever someone is--we are willing to walk with you no matter what anyone else thinks.
Oh, and there's no one I'd rather be walking through life with than Chris...even if he won't live permanently in the utopia of my mind...it's probably better that way....
