Our neighbors recently took a three-week vacation to the Middle East. My husband and I agreed to care for their two-year-old Shih Tzu, Koda. I wasn’t sure how we would handle having a dog in the house again. It’s only been six months since we lost our fur baby, Titus. And 12 years since we had a two-year-old strong-willed adolescent running around the house. For those of you who have raised dogs from puppyhood, you know exactly what I’m talking about. For those who haven’t yet had this experience, think of a pre-teen with an oversized attitude. Right, you get the picture.

Our first week together was a little rough. But I’m proud to report we made it through the, you can’t make me eat unless you put salmon or tuna on top of my food and I don’t like my feet touching the ground before 9:00 AM, stages. Yes, we did some carrying of Mr. Koda for the first few days but that was soon replaced with bribery, peanut butter doggy biscuits whenever he walked more than a few steps. We even negotiated about the perfect place to sleep at night. I will confess most of the time Koda won. We would nestle him at the foot of our bed and somehow each morning, he ended up curled in a tight ball with his head resting across my husband’s neck. I confess it was the cutest thing to wake to each morning.

But then a funny thing happened. It was the start of week 2 and Koda’s personality took a shift. He moved from being a demanding obstinate adolescent with a big attitude to a giant sticky dog. We couldn’t move without him glued to our feet. And please don’t let my husband and I be in separate spaces. He would move back and forth between us not quite certain who he should cling to. We no longer had to beg him to eat and his attitude with early morning walks shifted to, what are you waiting for, let’s walk. And just as we adjusted to this little guy’s new approach to life, another shift happened. But this time it wasn’t with Koda. This time something changed in us.

We began to adjust to having a dog again – the daily routine of walks and feedings, grooming and brushing teeth. It was all so familiar but we had let it all go once Titus was gone. We replaced Titus’ old routine with a new schedule but now we were forced to revisit the pattern of our past. And during this week, Koda spent more time in our laps, and by our side, and dare I say, we grew attached.

The three weeks flew by and once again the house became quiet. We no longer had to watch every step we took trying to avoid the doggy glue stick and the pace of my morning walks quickened. There were no more distractions during weekly Zoom calls, no interruptions when I was trying to read, or a need to type with one hand because the other arm was a doggy headrest. I found myself looking for Koda as his owner walked him in the mornings and made up excuses to visit our neighbors just to say hello to my furry friend. And that’s when I realized, the hole in my heart, left by the loss of Titus, had not quite healed.

Recently, I was walking near our local park. Two women were strolling along the pathway with their dogs. One had a Cairn Terrier puppy the other a 15-year-old yellow Lab. I stopped to say hello, knelt for a closer conversation, and looked into the eyes of the old Lab. He looked back and my heart sank. I fought back the tears until I could walk away. For that brief minute, I vividly remembered our little guy the minutes before he passed. His eyes were glued to mine as we said goodbye.

During breakfast, I told my husband about my response to meeting the two dogs. We also talked about the time we spent with Koda and after some discussion, he asked, “Do you want to get another dog?” It’s a question I’d been considering for a while. But my recent doggy encounters confirmed I’m not ready.

It takes time for hearts to heal and more importantly, it’s okay to take the time you need. It’s alright to relive the memories, process the sadness, and shed a few tears. I’m discovering you can find strength going through the journey and honestly, there is no other way to put all the broken pieces back together again.

In my life, I’ve navigated some broken-hearted times. I lost both parents before I turned 34. I fought a losing battle with infertility and had a few failures and setbacks. Life, on this planet, is hard. So, learning the process of mending the broken is critical.

There is a verse in the Bible that reminds me to stay true to the journey regardless of how hard the path, it says,

“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they are good for us—they help us learn to be patient. And patience develops strength of character in us and helps us trust God more each time we use it until finally our hope and faith are strong and steady. —Romans 5:3-4 (Living Bible)

I want my faith to be strong and steady regardless of whether I’m encountering memories from my past, the trials of today, or the unknowns of my future. I want to find joy despite the sadness and be courageous enough to take the time to mend any brokenness or anger that lingers. I want my trust in God to be so strong that I can stand on steady ground. And once, I’ve reached that place with this heartache, I’ll find a new furry friend to share life with.

Be blessed,