How do people make it through life without a sister?
~Sara Corpening
Nineteen ninety-six was a big year for my husband and me. We finished school, got our first real jobs, bought our own house, and yes, decided that we needed a dog. In fact, I had told my husband that as soon as we returned from our two-week post-graduation vacation, we were getting a puppy. I even wrote on the calendar in our kitchen “July 14, buy our new friend.”
My husband tried as hard as he could to put off the puppy purchase date. After all, we would both be working full-time and our house wasn’t that large. Who would take care of the puppy when we were gone all day? And, where would the puppy run around? Yet I completely ignored my husband’s practical perspective in exchange for my emotional one. And, on July 14, I forced him into the car with me in search of our new family member.
As soon as I saw Snickers, I was instantly in love. A tan-and-white Sheltie, just twelve weeks old, she was frisky and energetic. I knew that she was destined to be mine. My husband was hard pressed to disagree, as the tiny ball of fur licked him furiously, with a look in her eyes that practically begged him to take her home.
As certain as I had been that we had found our dog, I began to have doubts on the half-hour car ride home. The entire way, as I held my new baby in my arms, she shook, shuddered, and looked simply terrified. My husband reassured me that her fear would subside once she got used to us and her new surroundings. Still, for the next twenty-four hours, Snickers shook, moped, whined, and cried. Something was wrong and we felt helpless. Despite treats, toys, and lots of petting, Snickers was unmistakably miserable.
Then, without warning a thought sprung into my head.
“Maybe she misses her sister,” I announced.
“Are you suggesting…” my husband began.
“I’m simply saying that I think I know how to make Snickers happy,” I informed my husband. “Now, get in the car.”
I picked up the sad mass of fur that had been drooping around all day and put her in the car. Less than an hour later, we were back at Snickers’ original home. I set my lonely puppy on the ground, and within seconds she was romping and barking and even chasing her tail. In an instant, my woebegone pup was vivacious and animated. Minutes later, the breeder came out with the other female from the litter. The two animals ran toward each other like a scene out of a movie. Once they began frantically chasing and licking one another, my husband and I looked at each other. That evening, we relaxed at home, curled up with our two happy Sheltie puppies.
Snickers and Skittles were completely inseparable from the beginning. They ate together, played together, and even got into trouble together. When one of them sucked down a pair of knee high stockings, leaving us wondering which dog had actually committed the unthinkable act, they were even forced to vomit together. The point was, though, that they were twin sisters with an invisible bond so strong that attempting to break it would also, as we’d seen in the beginning, break their spirit.
When our canine children were three years old, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Hannah. I’m pretty certain that the dogs thought of her as their human sister, because they refused to leave her side. They licked her tiny toes as she sat in her bouncy seat and watched her closely as I’d feed her. They even slept beneath her crib at times. My dogs knew who was in their pack and were aware of their family responsibilities.
But pregnancy with Hannah had been difficult for me. I was nauseous and tired and even had to go on bed rest for almost a month. Thus, the thought of having another baby made me nervous. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through all of that ever again. One night, as I was telling my husband my reservations about getting pregnant again, he looked at me sternly and said, “So you want to deprive Hannah of the joy that Snickers has?” I had never thought of our situation in that way. However, my husband was right. Snickers loved having a sister to share her experiences and play. How could I possibly deny my daughter that same happiness and contentment?
Today, as my puppies approach their fourteenth birthday, I am heavyhearted as I watch them limp with arthritis and ignore my commands due to failed hearing. Still I get so much joy from watching them play with my two human daughters, Hannah and Jordyn. The dogs taught me how to love and laugh. They showed me how to play hard and how to relax. Yet most importantly, they taught me the importance of a little thing called sisterhood. And for that, I will always be grateful.
Комментариев нет:
Отправить комментарий