In Memoriam: "Moxie!"
ONE GOOD DOG
Moxie was a 100-pound German-Box-Weiler. I remember first getting her as a puppy, & upon being informed that she had already peed in the house five times, I recall pointedly right then & there electing to love her (anyway). My heart really opened with this dog.
I was in my mid thirties when she was born and in my mid forties when she died. When I get to crying over her death, I never cry for her. Moxie lived a good, long, full life. Every one of her people managed to keep her safe, and she took returning that grace exponentially more seriously. That was her job, so having to pass away & leave us behind was completely antithetical to her being & thus very hard for her to do. But she did it: She died on her own surrounded by those who meant the most to her.
So when I get to crying these days, I cry for me. I lost my best friend, and I mourn the loss of her presence; it leaves a gaping hole. The end of her lifeon Independence Day appropriatelyalso marks a decade gone; another thing to grieve. "The passage of time is appalling."
Little children love puppies & kitties & ponies, but adults attempt to love other adults. It isn't easy. This dog taught me how to love...and how to let go.