Life is good.
John told me he never wanted a small dog. He felt they were yippy and bratty; he only wanted a medium/big dog. We currently had a black Lab and a German Shepherd-Rottweiler mix. Then one day John said that if we were to get another dog he would consider a small dog only if it was a Jack Russell Terrier. I think he said that because it was probably never going to happen. We adopt and those seemed like a dog that would never be at a shelter.
One morning while I was at work, Bob, a gentleman I worked with popped his head into my office and said, “Does anyone want a free Jack Russell puppy?” My hand was on the phone so fast, dialing John at work, it was like I was The Flash (insert lightning bolt here). I asked John if I could have a Jack Russell puppy. He said quite calmly, “Are you going to take care of it?” I calmly reply “YES!” “Are you going to pick up after it?” Cool as a cucumber I say “YES!” “Are you going to play with it?” Like water off a duck’s back, I say “YES!” Seriously, I thought “what is wrong with you? I am not a kid. We have kids and we have dogs. They are fed and have had their shots and are okay.” But, I just continue to wait and answer his questions. Finally, he says “Okay.” Very (un)maturely I yell, “Whoo Hoo! I love you!” I slam the phone down and run down the hall to tell Bob I can have the puppy! I was crestfallen when Bob said he would bring him to the office in the next day or two. Bob lied.
So, Bob’s wife bought this puppy from a breeder on the East Coast and paid $1500.00 for him and had him flown to Texas. Bob was none too pleased about this and never wanted the dog (he likes cats). So that is where I came in.
Bob brought the puppy to me within the hour and wanted no money in return. Just a good home. I immediately named him Max. Eventually, he would become Maxwell P. Krueger. It had a nice ring to it. Max was about six weeks old, tiny, and was not mostly white. He had a white collar and feet and red hair on his body. He was, to say the very least, unique. I googled him. Since Max had red hair and his birthday was about six weeks prior, St. Patrick’s Day, I said he was an Irish Russell Terrier. He could have been. You don’t know.
My psychology professor told me that true love and soul mates are not real. I heartily disagree. I know my soulmate is John. But, I also believe that a soul can have other souls that are destined to be entwined with each other forever in one form or another. With that said I offer this as Proof of Love. I walked into John’s office carrying Max, I wanted to show him my new puppy, and immediately saw John, I smiled as he walked toward me with love in his eyes. I swear I saw hearts streaming from them. I was so happy. Then he said, “Is that my puppy?” and I looked at him and then at Max who was squirming, trying to reach out toward John. I heard Max say, “Is that my Daddy?” as he reached out toward his Daddy and as John reached out for him and took him from my arms. At that moment, Max chose. John chose. They were in love. It was kismet.
From that moment it was Max and John, John and Max. Whenever John was home Max was with him. A man and his boy. We had other dogs, we had others in the past, but Max was something different. He was like all the other dogs we had rolled into one small ball of energy super dog. He was brave, smart, loving, loyal, confident, protective, helpful, naughty, funny, conceited, loved home improvement and tools, caring, fearless (except when it came to riding in cars and the dark, he was afraid of the dark) and he could fly through the air just like Superman, he was the hero against the villainous squirrels. Max never believed he was a dog. Max knew he was a real boy.
For fourteen years we had this boy. He was our world, he was Peekaboo’s world. It was like everything we did it was for Max’s benefit and while yes he was the most spoiled dog in the world, he gave us everything in return. Love, laughter, and fun.
Life is bad.
I love my birthday. I was really excited about this year, even though every so often I have to share it with my husband on Father’s Day. I was going to be fifty! I was having a really good year. John took me out for dinner on Saturday, a dinner train around Cincinnati. It was a fun and magical night. I remember asking John if he thought Max would live to Christmas. John said that he thought so. Max loved the holidays. He loved Halloween and seeing the children in their costumes, Christmas because it snowed and Santa Claus came for him and Boo every year, and Birthdays. He loved his birthday most of all, he really looked forward to getting his presents and his happy cake. Every year Max sat at the table where he got his very own Happy cupCake. We would sing happy birthday and he waited until we all clapped then he would begin to eat. When he was done he waited for his presents. He really was a real boy.
The day after the Father’s Day/Birthday celebration, John came home from work and was making dinner and then… Max died. I felt that my world had come to a screeching halt. I cannot tell you what John was going through, but it had to be a million times worse than how I felt. We put Max on our bed and Cooper came to him, his little body just shaking and he cried. Peekaboo who had always adored Max, because Max saved her and protected her, cried tears and curled up next to him hoping to heal him. Begging us to fix him. We could not.
Life is beginning.
For months after Max’s death, the four of us walked around with heavy hearts. Life was not the same, nor is it now. I want it to go back to the way it was before he started going blind. Before he went deaf. Back when his little legs were not arthritic. I wanted him to stand in the yard when it snowed and watch him look up in the sky at the snowflakes in awe and wonder, then take off running and jumping in the snow. I wanted the wonderful young man that made my husband happy. I wanted to not feel the ache. I knew that Peekaboo was feeling a loss as well. She was always happy, but now she was depressed. I was worried. She slept more and chewed her feet more than usual, nothing made her happy. Cooper was at a loss, he had more separation anxiety than ever. John no longer giggled when he got kisses from the dogs. Everyone felt the loss.
I did not want another dog. It was John that made me think that it was time. He was in Louisville, Kentucky at the GIE tradeshow. They had puppies for adoption and he sat and watched these puppies and would send me pictures of how cute they were. He was worried one wasn’t going to be adopted and wanted me to come to Kentucky to get a dog which ended up being adopted. Louisville is about three hours away. The drive was not a problem but I didn’t think I was ready to adopt. How could I give my heart to another when it was just ripped out and the wound was still fresh?
That night, I thought. It was John who needed a dog. One that would help him heal. It was Peekaboo who needed to come back to life and teach a puppy everything that Max taught her. It was Cooper who needed a friend to help him when he gets scared. It was me that needed to not be selfish and to give them what they needed.
So we put the search on and ended up seeing Sophie online and talked to the owner of the dog rescue and ended up driving to Kentucky after all to adopt her. I named her River, which a week later was changed to Amelia P. Krueger as she was having a hard time distinguishing her name from Cooper. She is a Red Heeler and cute as a button. She is smart and loving and does not take no for an answer when she wants to cuddle.
At first, Boo took to the bedroom and stayed there only leaving when she had to go to the bathroom. She took all her meals in bed. She growled at Amelia when she wanted to cuddle, again and again, Amelia tried. Never deterred. On the fourth day, I sat with Boo and told her to stop being a bitch and she had to eat with the Cooper and Amelia. Boo followed me out and ate from then on with her brother and new sister. By the next week, I realized that Boo had a pep to her step and was not spending her time alone. She was coming back to me.
Cooper at first was not happy. He was the baby and that is the way he liked it. He walked around with a teddy bear, named Baby, everywhere he went. While he still misses Max, he quickly realized that having a baby sister isn’t so bad. He has a playmate to play chase and wrestle with and to play tug-of-war. They lie on the floor at my feet while I write or work. He likes being a big brother. But Amelia cannot play with Baby.
John was all for getting Amelia. Although, he tried to be a bit more cautious about totally bonding with Amelia. It’s like he was still hurting and was keeping a piece of his heart shielded from being hurt again. Ameilia does not take no for an answer. She comes running up to you and stands on her hind legs, puts her arms up wanting to be picked up. You do it. You have no choice in the matter. Then she kisses you and snuggles into your neck and chest and is content. When she did this over and over, John had no choice, he gave his heart. He started to heal.
For me, Amelia is doing wonders. I still cry for my boy though not as much as before. I am crying as I write this. Amelia and Cooper are at my feet and Boo is sleeping in Max’s bed that I put in my office. I am glad that my little family is on the mend. Max would not want us to be miserable forever. Maybe he sent her as a gift to us. It’s possible. I am glad that we were able to bring a new member into our family. We all love Amelia the Red-Healer.
