A letter from Momma Karen

Let me start by saying what Papa Andy says to people when we walk together and every dog we see I must stop and say hello, “It’s ok, she speaks puppy!”  There has never been a time in my life that I can remember where I have not loved animals.  I once had dreams of becoming a vet, but my father guided me to a different path because he worried about my tender heart; I just loved so deeply.  So, when Linus came into our lives, as you can imagine when a little bear comes into your life, I wanted to smother him in hugs, kisses, and love; but Linus had other ideas.  Linus was the first dog I had in my life that did not readily want tactile love.  If we touched his paws, he recoiled.  If we touched the scruff of his neck, he yipped.  He didn’t want to be up on the furniture to be petted, he didn’t want to be on the big bed for nightly snuggles; he did not even want a bed to lay on. I found myself sitting on the floor to get close to him, only to have him get up and move somewhere else in the room to get comfortable.  Normally, I would then move to a soft voice, a song sung, or just the act of saying his name to get close to him, help him learn to trust, but Linus was deaf so that would not work either.  I remember reaching out to friends and saying I was not sure I could do this, how was I going to find my way into this little man’s heart, how could we get him to trust again.  This was our beginning.

Today, between the tears of sorrow and the tears of sweet memories, I have been able to put together a beautify transformation of our sweet little man.  I cannot tell you the exact moment he decided to give us his heart and to trust us, but I can tell you it happened. 

The pup that would once get up and move across the room to get comfortable, now wanted to sit touching a part of you; his favorite thing was to sit on Papa Andy’s feet. 

The pup that was quiet and wouldn’t make a sound, turned into a pup who demanded what he wanted when he wanted; my favorite was his sass when he knew he was getting what he wanted. So many memories of him walking towards the door for time outside and he would turn back at me and give a little sass and wag his tail…..or walking into the kitchen while I made his dinner to bark and tell me to hurry up…..or the way he would whine and talk in the morning to let us know he was awake, only to walk to the door and bark if we didn’t pay attention fast enough. 

The pup whose tail would go between his legs when he became afraid, would curl that tail high and wag it freely; Papa Andy’s most favorite moment of each day was that early morning tail wag to say good morning Papa, I love you. 

This pup that was afraid of the world around him, learned to bimble with the best of them; everyone’s favorite was watching him make his way outside, sniff the air and see if his sweet Freckles was out and if she was, he would swagger down the driveway to greet her and then after a minute or two decide he was done and swagger back inside for a nap. 

This little bear who came to us broken in body and shy of his heart, turned into our little man full of love, sass and sweetness that upon his crossing the rainbow bridge has left our hearts hurting and missing him terribly.

In my first blog about our adventure I wrote,

“I plan on holding Linus’ paw through this adventure that is his life from this day forward. I plan to love him with everything in my heart.  I plan to take care of him for as long as he needs, and when he is tired and cannot go on, I plan to hold him close so he can feel my heartbeat until he takes his last breath. I will whisper into his deaf ears how much he was loved, what a wonderful boy he was, and how the field across the rainbow bridge is filled with butterflies to chase, never-ending food bowls, and a body that does not feel pain.  I will cry and then I will find my place again, holding onto the cherished memories he provided, and I will learn to love another animal again; because he would want it to be that way.”

This is exactly how his life went.  When he told Papa Andy and I he was tired, that it was his time to go, we didn’t want him to leave, but we knew it was his time; it was his choice.  As I laid with him on the floor his paw reached up onto my leg as if he was telling me he was ready, I reached down and held that paw and he didn’t pull away, he gave me his paw willingly and I held it to the end whispering to him that he was loved, and he peacefully drifted off to sleep.

When I felt my heart breaking into a million pieces, I reached for Papa Andy’s hand as we gave Linus his last pets, and that sweet little man of ours, in true Linus fashion, let out two toots!  Now many will argue that bodies do this naturally when they pass, but as Linicious Poot will tell you, he didn’t get his name for nothing, and that was our little man’s way of telling us that he was ok, that he was no longer in pain and that he was free to run, play, and eat never-ending piles of bacyum.  It was a fitting goodbye, and I couldn’t have asked for a better sign.

Upon losing my sweet little man, I am reminded of this quote,

“It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them, and every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.”

Sweet Linus, my love, you have made my heart closer to being as generous and loving as you were.  I love you little man, my little bear, my Linicious Poot.