The text came in late on Saturday afternoon.
“At the emergency vet with Josie. I brought all the money I have, but I might need to borrow some. I’m a mess. She’s not doing well.”
Before I could respond, the second text hit the screen and punched me in the gut:
“Never mind, I have to say goodbye, unfortunately.”
Our daughter’s constant companion for the past decade was slipping away. At age 13 she lived a long life in dog years but not long enough. Josie was three when she came into our daughter’s life. She was given up by someone who didn’t want her any longer. They became instant friends. They were inseparable. They hiked, ran, lounged on the couch, and even shared her Sleep Number bed…Josie’s setting was 35.
Josie was with her through her highs and lows doing what dogs do best—loving unconditionally. She was her consoler and protector.
As our grand dog, Josie would come to stay with us when our daughter traveled. She was a delight and got along well with our little 10-pound Rainey and later with our 82-pound Dino, who doesn’t take well to other dogs. Josie was different; she was an expert at stealing hearts and even Dino’s bed. Even though we’d put out a bed for each dog, Josie would occasionally force Dino to scoot over so she could be close to him as they dozed on the patio. Pits love to snuggle. Dino never complained.
I was in the car when the texts came through. When my infotainment system read them to me, I had to pull over. It is difficult to drive with tears in your eyes. Suddenly anger swept over me. I began yelling, upset with God. It was only the second time I’ve done so. The first was when my father was in the hospital, and it was clear he was dying. I sat in my car in pretty much the same state. Yelling, crying and asking God, “why”.
My anger and grief were not primarily over the loss of Josie, although that certainly was part of it. No, my feelings were for my daughter. I know we all have to grow up and learn to deal with loss. Still, you never stop being a parent. You never stop wanting to kiss the boo-boos and make things all better. In that moment, I wanted to hold her…comfort her. But living in a different town miles away, I could not.
Thankfully, God has broad shoulders and understands us and accepts us unconditionally. While our dogs have figured that out, it is something we humans haven’t quite mastered. As such, he also gives us what we need when we need it. Like a loyal companion for a young woman on her own trying to figure out her path in life. That’s a daunting task to tackle alone. And for that wonderful, generous gift, I am very thankful.
I spoke with her the next day, and I expressed my feelings of loss. When I asked how she was doing, she responded, “I’m sad, but I am very thankful for Josie. She got me through my twenties, and I am grateful.” I’m thankful, too. For Josie and that our daughter has such a wonderful perspective.
I’m not exactly sure what the other side of life looks like. But I like to think that Josie is waiting at the gates of Heaven for her girl to arrive. She takes breaks to lay in the sun and enjoys belly rubs from my mom, dad and brother–all dog people. Perhaps, she and Rainey hang out as well. I know that’s probably not how this whole afterlife thing goes, but I hope that it does.
I’m glad our daughter rescued Josie, and I know Josie was glad she did, too. But when it comes to dogs like Josie and our Dino, I think they are the ones doing the rescuing.
Thank God for the gift of Josie. See you on the other side.
