June 20, 2019
Two weeks ago our hearts were crushed by Moxie’s death. I’ve since then tried to return to the place that has always brought hope and healing – my garden. However, each attempt evoked more tears and sorrow as one of my garden buddies was no longer alongside me. I have spilled many tears, spoke volumes of prayers and praise, and quietly listened for God’s whisper of guidance upon this soil. I could not walk away from a chore that has soothed my soul and hinder it from its work. I needed to confront my grief, allow it to wash over me, and be consoled by the beautiful memories that were created while we had Moxie. While I expected to be comforted by these recollections, I wasn’t anticipating the lessons.
Moxie taught me to not make emotionally charged snap judgments. I didn’t want Moxie to be part of our family from the moment I set eyes on her. Denise (our daughter’s mother-in-law) and I had just returned from a 12-hour long drive from Georgia bringing King ZaZu (our grandog) home to live with us when I spotted that little black ball of fur in our living room. We were supposed to be a one dog family; you know how that turned out.
I learned from Moxie to continually shower love upon those that don’t deserve it. She didn’t care that I tried to push her away and not show her affection. She had found a new home and she was determined to become a member of the family. Oh, that she did and more. Her enthusiasm for those she loved was infectious.
Moxie educated me on a profound subject. Be brave until you can’t; then don’t be afraid to run to someone for help. She was a fearless hunter, guard dog, and ready playmate for dogs three times her size; however, a clap of thunder would render her into a helpless heap of fright and anxiety. She would immediately seek the protection of our embrace until the threat had passed.
Moxie also enlightened me on the impact of friendship. ZaZu and Moxie spent three short years together but he clearly misses her. Moxie added spunk to Zazu’s old soul. ZaZu taught Moxie manners.
City workers came by yesterday to clear the nearly three-foot pile of debris left two weeks ago by the passing storm. I gathered the twigs and leaves left behind, mowed the affected area, trimmed the edge of the sidewalk and finally began to sweep. As I did, I uncovered ZaZu and Moxie’s paw prints imprinted on the sidewalk and I laughed. Our street has been under construction for awhile with various projects. Sometime last year our sidewalk was torn to allow for the placement of new water lines. When the work was completed fresh cement was poured for the new walkway and we were asked to avoid the area until it was dry. Well, our pups did not receive that message.
I’m so glad they didn’t……I needed to see those little paw prints and the joy it brought. Healing is coming and those little imprints will be a timeless reminder of the memories created digging in the dirt. Be blessed y’all!
June 7, 2019
As stated earlier, I struggled writing and sharing my first post as the heartache of losing our beloved Moxie was so raw; those emotions remain, barely contained today as well. However, my heart was conflicted in a second way. As I poured myself into Moxie’s tribute a stinging thought continually occurred to me. How is someone who has lost a parent, child, or special someone in their life going to feel reading this? Will they think I am trivializing their loss? I know that empty, orphaned feeling as my parents passed away long before I was ready, if such a time even exists.
I shared my concerns with our daughter and her words of wisdom in reply left me quietly contemplative. She stated, “Mom, grief is not an Olympic sport. It’s not about who hurts more or less. It’s not about losing a pet versus a loved one. It’s real to whomever is feeling it.” She was right, we feel it deeply and it is genuine. Sorrow comes in many forms and almost certainly, when we least expect it. An avalanche of emotions can overtake you suddenly or it can silently creep upon you. Grief also has a mysterious way of riding the wave of remembrance from one anguish to another. Unspent tears are unleashed as the present affliction gives way to past sorrow. One is left depleted and vulnerable. It is here where healing begins.
It is okay to visit sorrow where it lives; it is not acceptable to make it one’s permanent residence. I’m learning this lesson first hand. I will continually carry the “what if ” in my heart for having Moxie outside with me unleashed. I also have to remind myself that having her on a lead while here at home isn’t a habit we practiced. The front yard was for chasing balls and frisbees, running down the sidewalk to greet neighbors and friends, especially one little boy walking home from school or the young man who always seemed to have a tennis ball at the ready. The front yard was Moxie’s favorite hunting grounds; she spent many contented hours among the flowers and shrubs alongside me. I will allow those memories to ease the ache her absence has created.
To everything there is a season….Ecclesiastes 3:1; Be blessed Y’all!
June 5, 2019
I struggle writing and posting this because it’s not supposed to be this hard losing a fur baby. Our sweet Moxie girl was a hunter at heart. She would follow me everywhere as I worked in the yard. She would hear the click of the sliding glass door lock and knew it was safari time. Lizards, grasshoppers, June bugs, grub worms, and even a couple of opossum had to use their survival instincts to escape her prowess. Except the squirrels…..those little critters remained her nemesis. So much so, that her focus on one caused her to chase one into the street. It’s not supposed to be this hard.
I have already played every should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, and if only in my heart and mind more times than you can imagine. It does nothing to ease the pain or keep the tears from falling, at least not at this moment. It’s not supposed to be this hard.
Moxie adopted my husband shortly before he retired. At the time plans were already in motion to bring ZaZu (our grandog) home from Georgia as our daughter and son-in-law had two small pups that ZaZu had no desire to put up with. Our little old man, King ZaZu was going to rule our home, or so we thought. Despite my husband’s protests that we would never have another dog after Encino and my determination not to fall in love with her, Moxie’s one floppy ear and feistiness won us over in a matter of days. It’s not supposed to be this hard.
Moxie has traveled with us from the Rio Grande Valley in the southernmost parts of Texas, to the Pineywoods in the east, Palo Duro Canyon in the panhandle and her all time favorite (and ours) hiking and Jeepin’ in Big Bend. Her travels didn’t end with the Lone Star State as she was a part of each of our adventures since my husband’s retirement. She and Zazu are our travel buddies. It’s not supposed to be this hard.
It’s not supposed to be this hard and yet it is. Our intellect tells us she was loved, cared for, and given her best life the last three years; the ache in our hearts tells a different story. I’m certain the tears will come and go as we, and ZaZu adjust to the void Moxie’s death has left in our home and hearts. She will not be forgotten or replaced. The sly look she would give before attempting to do something she shouldn’t. The way she would hold onto ZaZu’s collar as he tried to return a fetched ball. Her daily vicious attack on the mail as the mailman would playfully push and pull the letters through the slot in the doorway. Her companionship on the work table as my husband sewed late into the night. Her eagerness to ride shotgun any time she heard a motor turn over. Her boldness to ride at the bow of the boat. So many stories….it’s not supposed to be this hard.
Lessons Learned When... 