What to Carry in Your Heart

I haven't wanted to write this post.  I've been procrastinating.  Mostly because I don't feel like crying.

Our seven-year-old Bernese mountain dog, Rory, died of widespread and painful bone cancer on April 19th.  Then, on May 15th, our twelve-year-old golden retriever, Jake, died of seizures caused by a brain tumor. 

Who would've thought that we would lose both our beloved family hounds within only a few weeks?!  It certainly wasn't what we were expecting this year.  I mean, they both hiked ten miles with us last year.  I assumed Jake would start to slow down and age a bit in 2022, but I didn't think it would be so quick and I definitely didn't think we'd lose Rory first.  

So today I'm sharing the things we loved best and the things we remember the most.  

Rory took such good care of us.  He didn't like me out after dark, so he'd herd me back to the door.  He was always, always, always watching the girls, preferably from his favorite lounging spots in the yard.  He slept by my bed.  He always greeted us at the top of the steps.  He'd stop me in the kitchen and lean against me, making me pause and think about the good things that really matter.  We taught him the "hugs" command.  We tapped our shoulders and he'd stand on his hind legs with his one hundred twenty pound self and give us hugs and kisses.  He especially liked to give Blossom4 nibble kisses.  He loved laying on Blossom2 while she was trying to read her Bible in the morning.  He hated being tripped over.  He made silly faces when we offered him spicy food.  He'd bark and flirt in the yard and then, flop his gigantic self down for his belly to be scratched.  When we were hiking, he'd jump logs like a professional equestrian.  He loved climbing mountains.  He only swam because he loved us or if he was insanely hot.  He was always checking on everyone when we were hiking - back and forth, back and forth.  He made his rounds through the house at night.  He got so distressed when Jake got sick.  And I will never, ever, ever forget the time I was up during the night, on the couch with worry and panic pressing down on me like never before.  Rory came out of nowhere and shoved his massive head into me.  I clutched him and instantly felt peace.  I knew God had sent him.  He was our "bear" and he was lovable and sweet.  

Jake taught us about passion and perseverance.  Jake loved swimming and obsessively fishing rocks out of the creek, with his bare teeth.  Nobody taught him.  It was his hobby.  He'd "sass" us when we weren't paying attention.  We always sassed him right back.  He was the sheriff around here and always patrolled the air space.  Rory always followed suit with whatever Jake was alerting us about.  Jake's long ears were so soothing, like therapy I always said.  Stroking his face helped us to remember that love is more important than getting stuff done.  I'll never forget the little Mennonite girl toting his gargantuan puppy self out, with his legs hanging down to her feet and almost tripping her up.  What a massive puppy he was!  He always did his little snort-sneeze when lying on his back and it always made us laugh.  Then, he'd grin that signature golden grin.  He always burped when Grandma came over... and we'd laugh some more.  He was passionate about food.  He loved opening Christmas presents.  He even opened Rory's presents for him.  He was always game for any walk, hike, or slop in the creek.  Always.  Even when no one else wanted to go.  He affectionately destroyed every tennis ball he found and I just kept buying him more.  He always kept an eye on things when the Rugged Mountain Man was away.  No coyote or skunk or deer was allowed to come anywhere close.  Jake LOVED the cabin.  As soon as we turned back the old dirt road, he paced and whined and jumped and celebrated.  He knew EXACTLY where we were going.  I still remember him launching himself off of high creek banks and diving into the creek.  He dove like a professional.  I couldn't put on a visor, sneakers, or lay out a duffel bag at home, becaue he knew all those things meant good times together.  He loved the truck too because it meant adventures together. That's what he cared about, being together.  He carried so much joy in his heart and it overflowed into ours.

As my good friend says, "No matter how long they're with you, it's never enough." 

Thank You, Lord, for bringing Jake and Rory to us.  You picked the perfect dogs for our family.  You knew what we needed and sent them to care for us.  I regret absolutely nothing.  We loved them well and they loved us well.  

Astonishingly, the Jake and Rory chapter is now closed, but the memories will last, as will the lessons they taught us. 

I journaled these memories and ironically, it was the last page of a journal I started almost a year and half before.  When I got out the next journal to begin writing, a journal that Blossom3 had given me at Christmas, I found that I'd stashed last year's birthday card from the the Rugged Mountain Man in it.  (This is not something I normally do and I have no recollection of putting it there.)

It so neatly summed up what I take away from the lives of our Rory and Jake boys.  I don't think it was an accident that I found it there the day after Jake died.  

Carry joy in your heart.  
And a little mud on your paws.