This is Addie, my pup. My ex and I got her just after we got married and she lived with me for the two years after we separated until this summer, when I made the tough decision to find her a better home. One that included more land, more time outside, more play and an owner who didn't have to travel a lot and balance a little girl, too.
I loved this dog; love her. She was the cutest puppy you'd ever seen. I used to pick her up, even when she got too big for it, and carry her to the parks in Southie and show her off. She rode across country in the passenger seat of our VW Golf twice - from Boston to Colorado and back - and she hated cars, would drool the entire time, saddest dog eyes of all time looking out the window.
The owners texted me tonight with this pic, saying she was happy and that they love having her as part of their family. I cried for the 67th time today.
Because I let her go.
Because I love her and miss her smell and smooshing my face into her velvet ears.
Because she was a constant presence for the past seven years and still often fits into my mental routine (need to take her out, get home from work for her).
Because I still listen for her sounds.
Because she made my blood pressure go down when she'd snuggle up.
Because she's a casualty of my marriage and we still both love her, too.
Because I did the right thing for her by letting her go, but I fear she might still look out the window and wonder when we are all coming back.
Because when my ex dropped her off at the new family's home he cried and is a big, grown man who doesn't cry all that much.
Because this is life.
I have had a profoundly tough day; a harder one than I can remember in a long time. A dam broke open and I cried rivers. But I got this picture and while it makes my heart hurt, there's a little something here. She's alright. We are alright. I loved her more than I needed to keep her in my own life, for my own comfort. And while we are all in separate homes tonight and will close our eyes in different rooms, it is ok.
It is just ok.