‘First’ Babies

I don’t think I have ever been to a tropical beach without my husband. Usually I sit on
the beach and fret as I watch him jump and splash in the waves like a little kid. I beg
him to stop and worry he may drown.

My husband loves the ocean. My husband loves having fun of any kind, for that matter.
I am thinking of all our great beach vacations today while I am away for work, on a
beach. I am at a conference in a sunny location, which in my former life would have
been considered one of the few perks of my Bitchy Lion–infested work place. But now,
as I sit alone, exhausted, at the end of a long 48 hours, I miss my husband. And my
son. I am thinking about how lucky I am to have my family and how blessed we are to
be able to take vacations to places like where I am now. My son will likely inherit his
father’s love of swimming and wave-jumping. I hope he will not develop my paralyzing
fear of tropical birds. (A story for another time.)

I am also missing my husband because, while I am away this week, he is doing the
sweetest and most caring thing he has ever done for me.

He is laying my sweet, sweet elderly dog to sleep for the last time.

Long before I had a husband (or even a boyfriend, really), I had that dog. I got her in
February of my grade-nine year (which makes her 16, and me 30 this year).

I picked her and named her and poorly trained her and loved the shit out of her. She
was my baby; I adored her. I still do. She was a troubled girl from a rough home, but
that never stopped me from defending her every time she bit a neighbour’s dog or
snapped at people. Needless to say, she has been a handful of a pet right up until the
end. But she has also shown me love like only a dog can. She has absorbed the tears
of my teenage broken heart, she has accompanied me on first dates, she has sat with
me and my best friends for hours as we talked on my porch. But most importantly, she
became my husband’s dog too. She was our first family. The first time she met my
husband-to-be was when I was 20, and she was none too happy about it. She tried to
bite him — it was like she knew that this man would forever steal some affection from
her. Over time, though, they grew to be the best of friends. Often she would choose
him for a cuddle over me. He would give her late-night leg rubs and chastise me for not
giving her long enough walks. He accepted my rough-around-the-edges girl, and truly
she became his baby too.

Once W came, things changed. Obviously! She did her best to stay out of our way, but
it was clear to everyone that life had changed forever. My patience was thin, but her
sweet doe eyes never wavered. About a year ago, my husband and I knew her day was
coming. I’ve had dogs before; I know the signs. We started taking time to be with her
and reminding ourselves of all the fun she had given us over the years.

Last week, as we watched her struggle, we decided that my husband would make the
call and hold her for the last time while I was away. I hope you don’t think less of me
for not being there. I just couldn’t. Before I left for the airport, I gave her one last hug,
thanked her for a life of love, and told her I was so happy she had got to meet W. I was
very quick and quiet, and then I got in the cab for the airport.

I don’t think I could ever thank my husband enough for doing this, the hardest task of all
for a pet owner. He saw what would be one of the hardest days of my life and allowed it
to be a little less painful. This to me is a marriage; this to me is compassion. This to me
is the kind of man I hope W grows to be. A man who values fun and family vacations,
but also understands the unspoken ways to truly show love.

-Tightrope Mama