Last weekend we did one of the hardest things we've ever had to do. We gave our dog of 5 years, Layla, to a family who lives on Bainbridge Island. We knew that dental school would mean less money, less spare time, and smaller living spaces for the next 4 or 5 years. Plus, when we live in Seattle next year we could qualify for student housing which doesn't allow pets, but would save us about $9,000 per year in rent.
So, we went ahead and did what we really didn't want to do. The family is perfect. We couldn't have hand-picked a better family for our dog. They have 3 kids between the ages of 7 and 12. They live right behind a high school with huge fields for Layla to play in, and they go to the beach on a regular basis with their neighbor and his dog an 1 year-old female chocolate lab. We knew that this would be a much better life for Layla than we could offer for the next few years.
I don't think we could have ever know how hard it would be to come home without Layla that night. The house felt so empty that neither of us could stand to be in it. There was a tangible difference; something was missing. It was hard to think of her not being our dogger anymore, we've had her since just after we got married. We were both physically sick over it.
That has gotten better with time. I didn't feel quite as bad about it when I swept up the massive pile of dog hair off the kitchen floor, thinking that soon my house might actually be rid of dog hair. (That may never happen- it's everywhere.)
I still catch myself feeling like I need to let her in from the garage when we get home, or worrying that the door isn't shut and she might get away. The wierdest thing is that I still think that the dark lump I see out of the corner of my eye is her, for a second, and then I realize that she's gone and it's just a blanket, or a toy, or Brad's shoes. It's like suddenly losing your shadow. You don't pay it much attention, it's just always right there. Now that she's gone, I realize how much of a part of my life she was. She was company, she was a comforting presence in our home, and she was ours. She was familiar and safe and warm. She was a lot of other things too, but I'll focus on the good. ;)
I thought this was the right choice. It was certainly the most logical choice. Layla will be fine without us, I would say. Then when we were talking with the family on Saturday morning, the mom said something that made me reconsider. She said that her youngest, a boy, had asked her if they could change Layla's name. I gasped in shock. Change her name? No! You can't change our dog's name! Who do you people think you are? My mama-bear claws came out and I was furious. She went on to tell me that she had told her son that they would most definitely not be changing her name, and asked him how he would feel if they sent him to live with a new family that started calling him "Bob". Whew. She will still be Layla. And Layla will be fine without us.
Who would have known that our obnoxious 85 lb lab would leave such a big hole in our lives? She was the kind of dog that you really had to love to be able to appreciate, or even tolerate. She was by no means the perfect pet, but she was part of our family and she will be missed.
;
