My Parents Save the Day

There are some days that do not fall neatly into the category of happy or sad.  Both emotions are so intertwined that only the inadequate word bittersweet can be applied.  August 5, 2017 started off with quite the painful sting.  My precious and loyal companion, the indominable Junie B., passed away.  She was an absolutely amazing dog who was only four months shy of her fifteenth birthday.  Junie was a gift from my parents when I was twelve years old.  As an awkward tween who struggled to make friends, this little Yorkie was a life saver.  We would take walks around the neighborhood, bike rides with her stuffed down the front of my jacket, and trips to the store with her head poking out of my purse.  She liked to sleep right in the middle of my bed, so I had to contortion my body around her while she slumbered.  And she snored, loudly.  What quickly became white noise to me, drove the new friends I made crazy when they came over for slumber parties.  Junie was the alpha over all the other dogs in our home, even as a deaf old lady with a gimpy leg.  One growl from her, and all the others knew to stand down.  But for all her toughness, she was a complete marshmallow with me.  We would garden togethers, cuddle while I read a book, and share bags of popcorn in front of the TV.  As I write this, I look around my room and see her perky ears and bright eyes staring out at me from me multiple picture frames.  Saying goodbye to her yesterday was bitter.

My parents took me out for coffee (caramel hazelnut americano – a comfort drink) and then we sat around sharing almost fifteen years worth of memories of the dog who grew up with me.  I sat at the table, tears pouring down my face as I told them that I didn’t know how I was going to be able to sleep alone tonight.  They looked at each other, bundled me into their car, and drove forty minutes away to one of my favorite coffee houses for a caramel macchiato made with soft serve vanilla ice cream.   Once we had drinks in hand, we drove another twenty minutes to a woman’s home out in the middle of nowhere.  And in the front yard was a litter of playful Corgi puppies.  I laid down in the grass right in the middle, and soon had five fluffy babies crawling over my face, tugging on my shirt, snuggling in my hair, and chewing on my fingers.  Surrounded by all that adorableness and affection, the grief over Junie’s death didn’t feel quite as oppressive.  What better way to honor her memory than to pour the love I had given her into the life of another puppy?  There was only one boy in the litter and was glued to my side the entire time.  It was clear that he had picked me.  Cuddling him to my chest as I climbed into my parent’s SUV, he didn’t shake or whimper in fear; he was completely calm and content.  Kissing his little face, I dubbed him Tickle in memory of Junie B.   She was named after Barbara Parks “Junie B. Jones” children books.  In the books, Junie has a sweet puppy named Tickle.  The name for this fluffy boy was perfect.  Yesterday, holding Tickle in the car, rubbing his floppy ears, and saying hello to a new companion was sweet.