Lessons from a Little ShihTzu

Our 11-year-old Collie/Rottweiler mix, Jamba, passed away a little over 3 years ago. 

Jamba

We were very deliberate as we processed the loss of our pupper:  a family meeting to talk about it, consistently taking time to remember the fun that we had together, and a generous quantity of hugs whenever one of us started to shed a tear. 

We made the logical choice to not replace her.   Kids’ activities were ramping up and we felt like she hadn’t been getting enough attention and exercise because of it, so waiting was the wise thing to do.   

 

 

The decision was made, but each of us seemingly took turns pining for another pup until my wife finally couldn’t squelch the need anymore.   

She declared earlier this year (months in advance), that a very little puppy is the only thing she wanted for Christmas this year.  Period.  End of story. 

I was adamantly opposed, and I had all of the right excuses:

• We agreed to not replace Jamba (no take-backs)
• Too big for the budget (Dave Ramsey said so, kinda)
• Puppies poop & pee (everywhere)
• We don’t have time to take care of a puppy (we still have kids!)
• If we’re getting a dog, I want a dog.  Not a glorified rodent.  

She dug in her heels, I dug in mine.  She said a bunch of stuff about memories for the kids, missing the opportunity to care for a little one, and the kind of impact a pup could have on the fam ("bla, bla, bla").
 

 

I stuck to my guns until, in the midst of a 4-hour stand-off on the topic, I found myself breaking down and angrily stating thru a flood of tears, “I can’t ever experience what I experienced with Jamba again.” 

When I realized the real reason I was fighting, the argument stopped.  


Thru a variety of circumstances, the last year has taught me that experiencing joy is worth the risk of being hurt (and that anything short of real love, doesn’t heal or enable growth). 


Izzy

We got Izzy the next morning.  She’s tiny. 

We dropped a grand to get her and all of her stuff, she smells like a dog, she has peed and pooped in the house, and we haven’t slept thru the night all week. 

My wife is glowing, my kids have giggled in ways I haven’t heard them giggle for quite some time, and I may or may not enjoy playing with her spazzy little self. 

 

Izzy doesn’t take away the memory of being the sole witness to Jamba’s last breath, but she’s helping us write a new chapter in our story and she has reinforced the importance of loving wholeheartedly – regardless of the inherent risks and inconveniences. 

 

Every time her moppy little self gallops by, I think of my wife’s steely determination to love and pour herself into another being and I am, in turn, inspired to pour myself into others as well. 

 

If you’re stuck, struggling, and hurting because Love has seemingly kicked your butt, I encourage you to acknowledge the potential for joy and  to willingly step back into it – knowing that you’ll get hurt again but that it’s worth it anyway.   pba.