How’s it going? I wasn’t sure if I should write because I don’t know if you’re angry with me. But it’s been a few days and I still can’t quite wrap my head around what just happened. I’m sure you’re feeling the same. I keep thinking about you and everything we’ve done over the last three years. Do you even remember life before we met? You didn’t have it easy. You were born into a terrible reality and were forced to fend for yourself for the first year of your life. And then that trip! Being rescued and driven all the way from California in an RV with 49 other abandoned souls. Bounced around through foster homes until a series of seemingly coincidental circumstances brought us together. Oh, man….do you remember how stressful that first while was?! You wouldn’t touch the floor, you created nests of comfort with all of my things and when your anxiety ran extra high, you could actually bite someone if they came close.
But we bonded immediately and I loved you. You were a part of our family (even though you didn’t really interact with any of the other members). We all knew your needs were special and we were patient and understanding.
Even when you kept opening the freezer to steal meat.
Even when you took the compost bin to bed.
Even when you chewed my shoes (only the leather ones).
Even when you opened the oven to carry our supper to the couch.
Even when we had to take you to training. TWICE.
Even when…even when…even when………..
But you were a good guy. Despite all of your quirks, you loved intensely. You were hilarious and super smart. There was no doubt that you craved our connection. No doubt that it was kismet.
But these last six months.
Oh my god.
They’ve been the most challenging of my life.
*deep breaths* The divorce.
There were days when I wasn’t sure if I would make it through. Really. Truly. Barely-hanging-on-days. But on those days, you were there. You were my constant in the worst time of uncertainty. On mornings when I wanted to stay in bed and sleep forever, you were licking my face to take you out. On nights that I was alone and wanted to stay out to party so hard that I couldn’t remember what it was that I was actually sad about, I had to instead go home to feed you. When the kids were just getting used to their new situation, you had them laughing…reminding them that not everything had changed.
You slept by me every night.
You made me feel safe in my new house.
You rode shotgun in my new car every time we went for a hike.
You learned how to swim for the first time ever!
You were there for me when so many others weren’t.
But I couldn’t always be there for you. Circumstances had changed. I was gone all of the time. Working extra long hours. Opening a new business. Trying to rebound from the severe retaliation of separation.
You were always on my mind.
Remember coming to the new business during renovations? You probably still have paint on your tail. What about all those late day swims around Kearny Lake? I was exhausted but took you anyway and always loved our time. I promise that you were a priority for me every single day.
I loved being with you.
I loved seeing you all the time.
I don’t know how to go to bed without you. Really.
After your last outburst (not the time where you jumped through my friend’s screened window, or the time you drove my car into the house by yourself, or the time where you locked yourself in the bathroom and shredded my robe, or the time where you injured your face burying butter in my new couch, or…or…or…) I just knew our story was up.
I knew I failed you.
I knew that leaving you at home meant locking my fridge with a bungee cord and closing my windows in the August heat and shutting all of my doors to limit your scope.
That wasn’t serving anyone.
I tried leaving you treats. I tried running you ahead of time so that you were tired. I tried having people come by to walk you. But it seemed that you only wanted me. And I can’t be everywhere I’m needed at once.
Kennedy…please know that you’re one of the great loves of my life. Giving you back to the rescue was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. I just have to trust that they have your absolute best interest at heart.
They know you have anxiety.
And they know you’re scared of men.
And they know that you feel best with other dogs.
So, knowing that you’re chilling with a bunch of lesbians and a german shepherd in the valley while you wait for your next home makes me a little bit happy. Just a little bit. I actually kinda hope they keep you.
I love you so much. There are so many people who have left me this year…and knowing that you loved me through it is really hard to let go of.
I’m sorry, my guy.
I’m so, so sorry that I bailed on my commitment. I really wanted to be with you to the end. But I guess your journey has other plans.
Till we meet again,