My Fur Children

I've been filled with an unfortunate sense of melancholia of late. It's not pervasive and it's not permanent, but still it's there. The reason for this melancholia is my dogs.

My wife and I have eschewed having children and have instead opted for dogs. Our furry children fill us with joy and love us unconditionally. They don't give us attitude like bratty teenagers. They aren't going to go to college. They don't mind being left home alone. They're a great addition to our carefree and footloose lifestyle. We love them like we would any child.

Unlike most parents, though, we are virtually guaranteed to outlive them. Our dog Baby is a chow mix and she’s 12 and a half years old. Most of the time, she’s happy and full of life, but, somedays, she looks and acts as old as her age would dictate. The idea of losing her is very real and very sad. Our other dog, Bella is a 2 and a half year old labra doodle. Even though she is quite young, sometimes the realization of how fast time goes gets the best of me and I find myself missing her while I’m with her.

I try to enjoy them and treasure each moment with them, as would any parent, but sometimes my overactive imagination gets the best of me and I find myself nearly in tears at the thought of not having them.

But, it’s the path we’ve chosen and I wouldn’t change it. If I can blessed by a dog for a decade—and, furthermore, if I can bless them—then it’s worth it. I just need to develop those coping strategies that people develop for grief. On top of that, like I tell my wife, I need to enjoy them while they’re here and grieve them when they’re gone.

The melancholia comes and goes. As I write this, I look at our two girls laying on the living room floor next to each other and I smile.

I love my children.

A poem I wrote about Bella

A poem I wrote about Baby



Thanks for your time,

Justin