Don’t give up: The puppy version

If you’ve read my blog for a few months, you may remember how much I love dogs.


The above is Molly, who my then-fiance and I adopted in July 2009. She was with us before marriage, kids, numerous jobs, two published books and ten elections. Unfortunately, we lost Molly in April to cancer. It was, thankfully, very sudden, and very quick. She didn’t suffer.

At the time, I wrote about how heartbreaking it was, and how much pain we were all in. I also said that yes, we’d get a dog again, because we loved them and it was worth all the joy they brought.

Fast forward to July, and enter Mack:


Mack was a two year old rescue from the Lehigh County Humane Society, a wonderful place where we got our Molly. He was a stray and very good…with adults. With kids, we struggled. Most of the time he was fine. On occasion, he was not, and there were a few incidents of him being more aggressive than he should have been (with, which a dog and kids, is any aggression at all). While he never bit the kids, he came too close with snapping. That, combined with the way he was with other dogs, forced us to end our fostering and return him to the shelter.

We were really broken up about it. He had issues, but the vast majority of the time, he was just a big marshmallow. I was very sad, because he was “my” dog – we totally bonded.

That being said, the house was empty.

Bren and I spoke and nothing seemed right. Now that we felt as if we had moved on from our grieving period with Molly, the house was empty. There was no one to take on walks. No four-legged friend to cuddle with. No water dish to keep filled.

So, back to the drawing board. We looked up a few rescue organizations and planned on spending the weekend checking out the dogs. We get to the first appointment, and…well…..

Meet the puppy called Luna, at least for now.

Why, on a depression blog, am I writing about dead doggos, failed-failed-foster dogggos, and new doggos?

Well, more or less to prove a point.

Losing Molly was, truly, one of the most grief-inducing experiences of my life. It really was. I suppose I should count my blessings at that statement, in a way, but losing Molly was so painful. I didn’t realize just how much I loved her until she was gone. And then losing Mack, even though returning him was unquestionably the right call, compounded the sense of loss and added a sprinkling of failure. I did like that dog – a lot – and I felt terrible to return a dog which was wonderful and trustworthy most of the time. But most of the time isn’t enough when it comes to a big dog and kids.

Here’s my point: We tried again. And we tried again. And we kept trying. And now, because we refuse to give up, we’ve got a really nice puppy. Luna is snuggly and sweet and I can’t imagine caring about a new doggo more. The metaphor here is obvious. Don’t give up.

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