Boots McBlog

Hearts break every day.   Some for reasons we can easily explain.  Others will remain a mystery.   In the scheme of the world with famine, broken families, lost jobs, disease, death of loved ones, sick children, and “real” strife,  it seems silly to say my heart breaks today because my dog died.

But here it is- my heart – broken into a thousand pieces, tears streaming down my cheeks because my Sadie Francis is gone.

My precious, Sadie Francis was a gift.  I was never supposed to have her.   But I’m glad I did.

Five years ago,  a friend called to say her neighbor had puppies to give away.  The mom dog – Annie  was a beautiful Silky Terrier.  She looked just like my Finley.  Frail boned and a silky mane.   My friend curiously wondered -  did I want a puppy.  They were free.   You see,  pretty Annie had escaped a puppy mill.   She was rescued by a warm heart in the Heights.  When her new owner John took her in,  he had no idea she was with child(ren).   Before he knew it,  Annie and her 5 pups had taken over his guest room.

I was in Dallas when I got the call.  Just a few days before the Angler and I celebrated our 8th anniversary.  I had that baby itch at the time.  (Something I’ve never admitted)   Timing wasn’t favorable to pursue children.  So,  I begged the Angler to let me have a puppy as an anniversary gift. He said no.

When I returned from Texas,  I stopped by John’s house and two puppies remained – a rambunctious boy and an anti-social girl.  John had already named her Sadie.   She had black eyes, black lips, and crazy eyelashes.  I scooped her up and she wrapped her front paws around my hand and  her little self around my heart.   All 1.5 pounds of her wanted down immediately – she hated being held.

I brought her home.  Now the score was even.  Two girls  (me and her)  against two boys ( The Angler and Finley-dog).  The boys were not happy.

We spent a few days anguishing over a name for her.  I had always wanted Finley to have a co-hort named Francis.  But “Sadie” seemed to fit her brown eyes.  So, like her adopted momma and any good southern girl – she got a double name.   Sadie Francis.    If you look it up in a baby names book   Sadie means princess.  Francis means free.   She was my free princess.

In time we all grew to love her, even Finley.  She carried a certain joy with her.  She was the kind of dog who smiled. She loved to play – with Finley all the time and with us if we had a laser pointer.  She never ever ever once growled at us.  She loved to bury herself in fresh laundry and soft blankets.  At night, she tunneled under the blankets between me and The Angler.  Then she would sneak to put her head on his pillow.

When emotions ran high or voices grew loud, she’d hide…in the bathtub.  She learned to seek solace in the bathroom from me.

She sat in my lap anytime we watched the Hogs play football on television. She hated those whistles and the excited commentary.

She loved walks over the Big Dam Bridge or through the neighborhood.  She did not like wearing clothes – much to my dismay.  However,  she gladly sported her pink harness and leash  which matched her bright pink tongue.   And she knew her shoes….well, my shoes.   She knew that when I put on my TOMS – there was a good chance she was going for a walk.  She knew me well, I didn’t wear flats without a reason.

Unlike her dog brother or mother who were fine boned and petite,  Sadie Fran was thick and stout – she was a big girl.  We often joked that she was “big boned-ed”  Ah, how she loved her carbs…especially Wheat Thins and cupcakes (just like her momma).

After she proudly destroyed my down duvet

Perhaps the most peculiar thing about Sadie – is that she did not like here picture taken.  The vet once said she was an Austrailian Terrier not a Silky Terrier.  We thought – well, that explains it -she’s Aborigine. She’s afraid we were stealing her soul.  No matter how stealthy I was with my iPhone – she just somehow knew and would dodge any chance of a shot.  Yes,  Sadie Francis was a weirdo that way.

In the High Profile interview I did a few years ago,  I was asked how The Angler would describe me.  My answer: “ He’d say I’m a lot like our dog Sadie Francis – smart, spunky, and hard to handle”

Sadie Badger don't care

I’d still answer that question the same way today.   Indeed, Sadie was always curious – opening cabinets, turning pages of magazines left on the floor, or rooting behind furniture.    She was always ready to play, yet never wanted to be held.  She was always by our side, but affection was given on her own terms.  (just like her momma) Her affections came when she would put her head on my feet when she was sleeping or how she would sit beside me when I was sad.  She would lick tears occasionally.  She’d sneak a morning kiss right on the smacker while I slept.  And when I needed a listening ear,  she’d tilt her head as if she were really listening.    She was our comforter when we all said goodbye to Finley a year ago.   She was a trooper.  Never missed a beat.  She stepped right up and assumed the role of lead dog in the house and in our hearts.

The unexpected news that our sweet 4 year old dog had lymphoma hit us hard a few weeks ago.   We had no idea how quickly it would ravage her little body.    The Angler and I made a vow to not let her suffer.   Her breathing became more labored over the last few days.  And today – the vet confirmed – it was time.

The last few hours I spent with her, we walked the bridge, ate chips and cheese dip, and  split a chocolate cupcake.  Because we all know chocolate is bad for dogs, we never let her have chocolate.  Today, I figured she couldn’t leave this world without trying it at least once.  Every carb-o-holic knows that.  She loved it — licked all the icing off my fingers.  Her last day was a good day of love and comfort.  The way I think it should be for all of us.

Totally mesmerized by the lights reflected off the disco ball

The McCottage is empty of the sound of paws tonight.   In the 12 years we’ve been here,  this is a first.  We’ve never been dog-less.  We used to be the weird couple with dogs.   Now, we’re just the weird couple.

The weird couple who will miss her so very much.

The Angler and I are both struggling to justify our feelings of loss in a world with much bigger hurts around us.   We know we’ve made the right decision to let her go. It’s just one of those days, it really stinks being a grown up.   We’ve been saying our prayers- hoping it doesn’t seem selfish to ask comfort for our hearts as we adjust to quiet days ahead of us.  We’re thankful God entrusted a piece of his creation to us – a piece that taught us how we should love – unconditionally.

my pretty girl in her pink leash

Do I think we’ll see her again in heaven?  I definitely think so.    Some theologians may want to argue scripture, but my former pastor once said when asked the “do dogs go to  heaven?” question,

“heaven is always more, and never less.”

I believe that.   I believe it with all my heart.

I also believe there is no such thing as a free dog.  It always costs you a piece of your heart…

but it’s so very worth it.

our little family