Danny called me all day the day he found her. He sent pictures, and texts and even tricked me into to calling him by saying "Call me. It's not about the dog."
I agreed to let him bring her home for the night (not that I had a choice), and 1 night turned into 3 before we heard news from her owner. Danny called me and said "Her owner called. I don't want to call him, cause I don't want to give her back."
I convinced him to be honest and ask the guy if maybe he was looking for a new home for her. Sure enough, when Danny explained how much she was fitting in with our family the guy thought about it and called back and said "yeah man honestly I work so much, if she is happy there it might be for the best."
So Milly (the dog we had named Maggie) was ours to keep.
It didn't take her long to fit in and for us to figure out that she could open push down latch doors. Almost everyday she would push her 70 lbs fierce pitbull force past me and shoot out the front door, making me chase her down and bring her back in the house before we left for school. It drove me crazy, but you forgive a dog like her quickly.
Honestly, I didn't want another dog. We have a full house already - two kids, two dogs = major mess. But Danny fell in love and I knew that a bond like that is worth the mess, and 8am high tail (pun intended) chases.
A runner, but a lover!
We had to make sure the backdoor was locked because if not, she would push the latch down and be gone quicker than you could even turn around.
Last night when Danny and I came home late, the dogs were let out and we didn't think to check the door.
Milly slept the whole night in between my legs until 6am when I got up for a pee and some water and kicked all three of the dogs back out into the living room. Again, I didn't check the door.
At 830 when I got up to start getting ready to teach yoga at 10, I called the dogs and realized the back door was open - wide open. I came back in and groaned to Danny that Milly was gone again and that he would have to go look. He asked me to come with him and I said no because I had to get ready. For some reason, I changed my mind and got dressed quickly and hopped in the truck. We looked across the highway and saw something white dart across the road and Danny said to me "I think that's her, I saw her go up there last time she took off." So over the highway we went only to find a little furry puff ball barking up a storm as we approached.
We came down the hill and took a right onto the highway and within 30 seconds my eyes were drawn to a white and brown object on the side of the highway. My heart sunk. There she laid, motionless. I caught my breath and my emotions burst in a thousand directions.
Milly had been hit by a car and laid dead on the side of the highway.
We pulled around and drove up beside her. The two of us staring down at the ground in complete and utter devastation. Whoever hit her did her had the decency to bring her off to the side and lay her unharmed side face up, so when we found her we didn't see her wounds. There was blood all around.
We went to the truck and grabbed a tarp and rope and quickly wrapped her up and put her in the back of the truck. Danny rested his head on the steering wheel and let out a deep low scream, full of raw emotion. "I failed her" he said.
I reached over and grabbed his arm. I wanted to take his pain away so bad. I wanted to go back in time and not let her out of our bedroom at 6am. I played it over and over again in my head. Why didn't I get up and check the stupid door? How could I have been so lazy?
My head searched for solace and my heart ached. We were silent as we drove.
Danny started to break down and as he spoke only blame for what he should have done came out of his mouth. "I should have locked the door. I should have gotten an electric fence....I told her owner I would take good care of her and I didn't."
I wanted to tell him not to blame himself, I wanted to take all his hurt away...but knew how he felt and I knew the importance of feeling into the pain. I scanned my brain for something to hang on to and I remembered yoga teacher training and did my best to just "hold space" for him - silently give room for him to feel what he felt without me reaching over and taking it away. One of the Yamas (universal moral observances that form the foundation for a spiritual practice) - Asteya or "non-stealing" means not to devalue ourselves or others. One of the aspects of this practice is also not stealing the completion of an experience or emotion from ourselves or others. Danny needed the space to move through his emotions, it was not for me to tell him that it was "going to be ok", or that he didn't need to feel the way he was feeling.
Sadness is a painful emotion to experience and it can be hard to watch the people we love caught in the thick of it. It can take on different shapes as we try to escape it. Anger is a common redirection for sadness/loss and for Danny it was easier to blame himself - hold on to something concrete, latch the emotion on to blame and give it that direction so it wouldn't float around aimlessly inside him.
We drove for a long time, looking for a burial site. Finally we decided to head back to our house and bury her in the woods along side our street.
We arrived at the place we chose to burry her and Danny started to dig. He dug meticulously and precisely. His was focused on his mission, and his serene sense of calmness permeated through the ground below my feet. I felt him from where I stood watching him. It was cathartic.
The hole was perfect, symmetrical and almost beautiful. I asked him if I could help in anyway and he said "no I just want you here." So I stood and I held the shit out of that space for him. I found myself building Tadasana (mountain pose) as I stood and watched him dig - grounded my feet into the earth, stood tall, opened my heart and my palms towards him.
When we went and got the wheelbarrow, and lowered her into the ground my gaze was drawn to a small amount of blood left inside the bowl. I watched as the blood slowly trickled down the side as a tear on my cheek followed suit. I heard the wind rustle through the trees, the sound of the river rushing beside us. I forced myself to stay present and let it all flow through me. As Danny shoveled the dirt back into the hole it reminded me of thunder moving off in the distance. With every shovel I said goodbye.
She wasn't with us long but shit, she sure loved deeply and we loved her back. She brought so much sweetness and love into our house, at a time when we needed it most.
I said to Danny "we never know how long someone will be with us, or why or how they will change us but that I could see how much you loved her and it really opened my eyes to the depth of your love for animals and how important it is for you to have them in your life".
After we were finished we packed up and drove to Danny's mom's to get the kids. Her and I sat facing each other on the couch talking. As I cried, I told her that the worst part was watching Danny so torn up and knowing how deep his love was for this animal he only knew a month. He has such a immense amount of love for his dogs. Her eyes locked mine and she didn't move her gaze as a tear rolled down her cheek she said "That is how deep Danny loves, and how deeply he loved that dog is a fraction of how he feels about you Grace. You don't need to ever question his love for you again."
(The background story here is that yesterday I wrote Danny letter to say I was really fed up and frustrated with our relationship, how stressed out he has been with work and how it's affected me and our family).
His mom's words slammed into me like a ton of bricks to the chest. How did I not see it? How have I been so blind? I complain so much about how he does this and how he does that, and how he just isn't ever good enough - when all along I wasn't seeing how deeply he loves. I have been cold to him and somehow deep down I know that Milly knew that her job with us was short but transformative. She came, she loved and she has taught us to love each other - more fully and unconditionally.
We hugged, we cried and we held hands all morning, just the two of us.
It's not a "maybe" that she came to us for a reason, it's for certain. I can see it and feel it already.
Thank you Milly for being such a strong force in our lives. You are a special soul.
With deep love and gratitude,
Grace
I agreed to let him bring her home for the night (not that I had a choice), and 1 night turned into 3 before we heard news from her owner. Danny called me and said "Her owner called. I don't want to call him, cause I don't want to give her back."
I convinced him to be honest and ask the guy if maybe he was looking for a new home for her. Sure enough, when Danny explained how much she was fitting in with our family the guy thought about it and called back and said "yeah man honestly I work so much, if she is happy there it might be for the best."
So Milly (the dog we had named Maggie) was ours to keep.
It didn't take her long to fit in and for us to figure out that she could open push down latch doors. Almost everyday she would push her 70 lbs fierce pitbull force past me and shoot out the front door, making me chase her down and bring her back in the house before we left for school. It drove me crazy, but you forgive a dog like her quickly.
Honestly, I didn't want another dog. We have a full house already - two kids, two dogs = major mess. But Danny fell in love and I knew that a bond like that is worth the mess, and 8am high tail (pun intended) chases.
A runner, but a lover!
We had to make sure the backdoor was locked because if not, she would push the latch down and be gone quicker than you could even turn around.
Last night when Danny and I came home late, the dogs were let out and we didn't think to check the door.
Milly slept the whole night in between my legs until 6am when I got up for a pee and some water and kicked all three of the dogs back out into the living room. Again, I didn't check the door.
At 830 when I got up to start getting ready to teach yoga at 10, I called the dogs and realized the back door was open - wide open. I came back in and groaned to Danny that Milly was gone again and that he would have to go look. He asked me to come with him and I said no because I had to get ready. For some reason, I changed my mind and got dressed quickly and hopped in the truck. We looked across the highway and saw something white dart across the road and Danny said to me "I think that's her, I saw her go up there last time she took off." So over the highway we went only to find a little furry puff ball barking up a storm as we approached.
We came down the hill and took a right onto the highway and within 30 seconds my eyes were drawn to a white and brown object on the side of the highway. My heart sunk. There she laid, motionless. I caught my breath and my emotions burst in a thousand directions.
Milly had been hit by a car and laid dead on the side of the highway.
We pulled around and drove up beside her. The two of us staring down at the ground in complete and utter devastation. Whoever hit her did her had the decency to bring her off to the side and lay her unharmed side face up, so when we found her we didn't see her wounds. There was blood all around.
We went to the truck and grabbed a tarp and rope and quickly wrapped her up and put her in the back of the truck. Danny rested his head on the steering wheel and let out a deep low scream, full of raw emotion. "I failed her" he said.
I reached over and grabbed his arm. I wanted to take his pain away so bad. I wanted to go back in time and not let her out of our bedroom at 6am. I played it over and over again in my head. Why didn't I get up and check the stupid door? How could I have been so lazy?
My head searched for solace and my heart ached. We were silent as we drove.
Danny started to break down and as he spoke only blame for what he should have done came out of his mouth. "I should have locked the door. I should have gotten an electric fence....I told her owner I would take good care of her and I didn't."
I wanted to tell him not to blame himself, I wanted to take all his hurt away...but knew how he felt and I knew the importance of feeling into the pain. I scanned my brain for something to hang on to and I remembered yoga teacher training and did my best to just "hold space" for him - silently give room for him to feel what he felt without me reaching over and taking it away. One of the Yamas (universal moral observances that form the foundation for a spiritual practice) - Asteya or "non-stealing" means not to devalue ourselves or others. One of the aspects of this practice is also not stealing the completion of an experience or emotion from ourselves or others. Danny needed the space to move through his emotions, it was not for me to tell him that it was "going to be ok", or that he didn't need to feel the way he was feeling.
Sadness is a painful emotion to experience and it can be hard to watch the people we love caught in the thick of it. It can take on different shapes as we try to escape it. Anger is a common redirection for sadness/loss and for Danny it was easier to blame himself - hold on to something concrete, latch the emotion on to blame and give it that direction so it wouldn't float around aimlessly inside him.
We drove for a long time, looking for a burial site. Finally we decided to head back to our house and bury her in the woods along side our street.
We arrived at the place we chose to burry her and Danny started to dig. He dug meticulously and precisely. His was focused on his mission, and his serene sense of calmness permeated through the ground below my feet. I felt him from where I stood watching him. It was cathartic.
The hole was perfect, symmetrical and almost beautiful. I asked him if I could help in anyway and he said "no I just want you here." So I stood and I held the shit out of that space for him. I found myself building Tadasana (mountain pose) as I stood and watched him dig - grounded my feet into the earth, stood tall, opened my heart and my palms towards him.
When we went and got the wheelbarrow, and lowered her into the ground my gaze was drawn to a small amount of blood left inside the bowl. I watched as the blood slowly trickled down the side as a tear on my cheek followed suit. I heard the wind rustle through the trees, the sound of the river rushing beside us. I forced myself to stay present and let it all flow through me. As Danny shoveled the dirt back into the hole it reminded me of thunder moving off in the distance. With every shovel I said goodbye.
She wasn't with us long but shit, she sure loved deeply and we loved her back. She brought so much sweetness and love into our house, at a time when we needed it most.
I said to Danny "we never know how long someone will be with us, or why or how they will change us but that I could see how much you loved her and it really opened my eyes to the depth of your love for animals and how important it is for you to have them in your life".
After we were finished we packed up and drove to Danny's mom's to get the kids. Her and I sat facing each other on the couch talking. As I cried, I told her that the worst part was watching Danny so torn up and knowing how deep his love was for this animal he only knew a month. He has such a immense amount of love for his dogs. Her eyes locked mine and she didn't move her gaze as a tear rolled down her cheek she said "That is how deep Danny loves, and how deeply he loved that dog is a fraction of how he feels about you Grace. You don't need to ever question his love for you again."
(The background story here is that yesterday I wrote Danny letter to say I was really fed up and frustrated with our relationship, how stressed out he has been with work and how it's affected me and our family).
His mom's words slammed into me like a ton of bricks to the chest. How did I not see it? How have I been so blind? I complain so much about how he does this and how he does that, and how he just isn't ever good enough - when all along I wasn't seeing how deeply he loves. I have been cold to him and somehow deep down I know that Milly knew that her job with us was short but transformative. She came, she loved and she has taught us to love each other - more fully and unconditionally.
We hugged, we cried and we held hands all morning, just the two of us.
It's not a "maybe" that she came to us for a reason, it's for certain. I can see it and feel it already.
Thank you Milly for being such a strong force in our lives. You are a special soul.
With deep love and gratitude,
Grace
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