Transitions

It's certainly no surprise, but it's so different with Ruby.

When Buttercup died, it was like losing a sister. As I think I mentioned in a previous blog, we got Buttercup when I was about five, and she died when I was 19. So I, literally, grew up with her. Everyone in the family was deeply bonded with Buttercup and, I think, equally so.

Buttercup died fairly suddenly. Literally overnight, she went from being perfectly youthful and healthy to having constant seizures, and we had to have her put down after a few days. In the fog of that grief, it took me eight days to decide I needed a puppy, research breeds, decide I needed (not just wanted) a female fawn pug, and track one down. It wasn't easy. I finally found a woman in Kansas who had a litter. Dan and I drove out to get one. Because they had a messy, snowy, muddy driveway, the woman met us at a street near the highway. She knew I wanted a fawn female, and she brought only one: Millie. I will never forget how my heart just melted when the woman handed this little bundle of sleepy puppy sweetness to me. She was about the size (and general shape) of a Chipotle burrito, maybe a little smaller. Ridiculous. She wasn't quite eight weeks old, and her personality was just beginning to form. She was so tired, it seems like it took her weeks to begin playing. She was so tiny, her toenails got stuck in the carpet. She seemed like a freak of nature. When Adreanne first met her, she turned this little ball of puppy-dough around in her hand, with a look that said, "Seriously? What the hell IS this thing?"

Our first night together, I was afraid I might roll over and squish her. But there was no doubt in my mind that we needed to be together. I needed her, the ache of missing Buttercup filled my heart to the brim. Life seemed to be changing so fast. At some point in the night, she fell off the bed, and it woke me up. I peered down at her, and she peered up at me. We were both so awed by the way life had thrown us together. I scooped her up and she draped her tiny body over my neck and we fell back to sleep. Because Buttercup was never that ridiculously cuddly and babyish, Millie filled a part of my heart that hadn't been there before. I don't feel like there is a hole in my heart. I feel like my whole heart is gone.

This transition with Ruby is nothing like my first few weeks with Millie. I love Ruby, and she loves me, but we are still working a few things out. She's learning the routine. I know that we are well on our way to a deep bond, but it will take longer to develop than it did with Millie. I knew Millie and I were a close fit, but my new life with Ruby is showing me just how close we were. Sometimes it simply amazes me, to know that this pain I feel now is the counterpart to the love we shared. But mostly it just crushes me to realize that what we shared is gone. It doesn't seem possible. I just want her back. Desperately.