It’s taken me two days to pen this brief article. The hubby and I thought the process of losing our pup Oboe was slowing passing, slowly becoming easier. We were surprised this past Sunday when we faced grief again, this time for our newly beloved niece Zettie. It was only six weeks ago that we metZettie in the Hundred Acre Woodand our hearts were instantly taken.
It was on the drive home that day that the hubby finally realized he was truly ready towelcome Monte into our lives once we move;welcoming the new pup with an open heart – not a heart still mourning for Oboe. Zettie showed him that he could love again and love in a different way. Zettie showed me that I need a new pup as much as, if not more than, anything else in my life.
We headed back to the woods just a couple weeks ago to welcome my nephew home for a brief visit from the Air Force. While our family may think I headed back on that journey to see them (after just returning from a lengthy work trip the night before), I sucked it up and headed back for only one reason. I wanted, desperately to see Zettie. I ran to WalMart before hitting the country roads and bought her a mooing cow (purposefully selected to drive my sister-in-law nuts).
The hubby and I acted like kids on the drive down, eager to see our puppy niece (and yes the family too). We were listening to old Beatles’ songs of all things and began to sing together, replacing each use of the word “you” with “moo” (squeezing moo-cow with each refrain). I bet you can’t guess just how many Beatles’ songs have the word “you” in them (virtually every, single one on the hubby’s iPod at least). “I love moo, yeah, yeah, yeah.” “All moo need is love.” I won’t belabor the point.
Zettie took to Moo immediately and within minutes had figured out how to make the cow talk. The whole family applauded her performance with each squish of its stuffed belly. After hours of playing, when it was time for both Zettie and me to take a nap, we curled up on the floor and dozed together, nose to nose. I was in heaven. We left, planning our next visit to the woods, or at least our planned future attempt to kidnap Zettie to make her our own. She was all we talked about on the way home.
How could a little pup we only knew for six weeks have such an impact? So smart, so well-behaved, so loving, so responsive.
We continue to ask that question today, after an inconsiderate (and that’s the best word I can use in this public forum) driver flew down their little, dirt road like a maniac, hitting Zettie and killing her instantly on Sunday. She is now buried with her cow in the Hundred Acre Wood. Ironically the cow stopped mooing that very morning. My sis says that Zettie had finally squeezed the moo-sic right out of it. Zettie’s death certainly brought back all of our memories of Oboe’s passing. We spent Sunday evening sick with worry for my sister-in-law and brother-in-law who both loved her immensely. What a tragic and unthinkable loss, one none of us was prepared for.
I needed to write this today, not only to mourn Zettie, but to thank her. She reminded us of all the good in this world, reminded us of how wonderful puppy breath is and how sweet puppy kisses are. She reminded me that I need and want to be a “Mama” again. Zettie was love in its finest form.
Posted in Life with M.S. Tagged: M.S., Multiples Sclerosi
It’s taken me two days to pen this brief article. The hubby and I thought the process of losing our pup Oboe was slowing passing, slowly becoming easier. We were surprised this past Sunday when we faced grief again, this time for our newly beloved niece Zettie. It was only six weeks ago that we metZettie in the Hundred Acre Woodand our hearts were instantly taken.
It was on the drive home that day that the hubby finally realized he was truly ready towelcome Monte into our lives once we move;welcoming the new pup with an open heart – not a heart still mourning for Oboe. Zettie showed him that he could love again and love in a different way. Zettie showed me that I need a new pup as much as, if not more than, anything else in my life.
We headed back to the woods just a couple weeks ago to welcome my nephew home for a brief visit from the Air Force. While our family may think I headed back on that journey to see them (after just returning from a lengthy work trip the night before), I sucked it up and headed back for only one reason. I wanted, desperately to see Zettie. I ran to WalMart before hitting the country roads and bought her a mooing cow (purposefully selected to drive my sister-in-law nuts).
The hubby and I acted like kids on the drive down, eager to see our puppy niece (and yes the family too). We were listening to old Beatles’ songs of all things and began to sing together, replacing each use of the word “you” with “moo” (squeezing moo-cow with each refrain). I bet you can’t guess just how many Beatles’ songs have the word “you” in them (virtually every, single one on the hubby’s iPod at least). “I love moo, yeah, yeah, yeah.” “All moo need is love.” I won’t belabor the point.
Zettie took to Moo immediately and within minutes had figured out how to make the cow talk. The whole family applauded her performance with each squish of its stuffed belly. After hours of playing, when it was time for both Zettie and me to take a nap, we curled up on the floor and dozed together, nose to nose. I was in heaven. We left, planning our next visit to the woods, or at least our planned future attempt to kidnap Zettie to make her our own. She was all we talked about on the way home.
How could a little pup we only knew for six weeks have such an impact? So smart, so well-behaved, so loving, so responsive.
We continue to ask that question today, after an inconsiderate (and that’s the best word I can use in this public forum) driver flew down their little, dirt road like a maniac, hitting Zettie and killing her instantly on Sunday. She is now buried with her cow in the Hundred Acre Wood. Ironically the cow stopped mooing that very morning. My sis says that Zettie had finally squeezed the moo-sic right out of it. Zettie’s death certainly brought back all of our memories of Oboe’s passing. We spent Sunday evening sick with worry for my sister-in-law and brother-in-law who both loved her immensely. What a tragic and unthinkable loss, one none of us was prepared for.
I needed to write this today, not only to mourn Zettie, but to thank her. She reminded us of all the good in this world, reminded us of how wonderful puppy breath is and how sweet puppy kisses are. She reminded me that I need and want to be a “Mama” again. Zettie was love in its finest form.
Posted in Life with M.S. Tagged: M.S., Multiples Sclerosi