Puppy Dogs and Regrets

I have glutted Facebook with photos of my new puppy. Thrown a few videos in, too. He is reaping the rewards of two particular phenomena: 1) my husband found him via friends at work less than a week after we had our nearly thirteen-year-old dog Charlie put to sleep (we loved Charlie so much and needed his tender, loving furry companionship to such an extent that all that we flowed in his direction is now cascading over Baxter who has, regrettably, answered to Charlie more than once daily) and 2) I am attempting to avoid every regret I had at Charlie's passing.

I did not walk Charlie enough. Baxter (who is also a long-haired dachshund) has such short legs that neighborhood walks are a few weeks away, but, heaven help us, the leash with matching collar have been purchased and the resolve is firmly in place. When Baxter breathes his last, he will have been walked countless miles. I put off grooming Charlie to the extent that he hated it and had to be carted off to the groomer for mat removal behind the ears and on the legs. Sometimes I had them give him a short haircut so that we just wouldn't have to fool with it. (This is a regret that I probably don't feel too much pain for, as Charlie HATED baths and brushings with a religious fervor.) Baxter will learn to enjoy the brush because it will be a constant. I feel that I took my "Pudding" for granted. He was always there. I was home a lot during his lifetime and he was always at my feet. I loved having him there and was comforted by him but, since he did not like laps, I didn't pet him as much as he would have enjoyed. I took it for granted that his loyal little spirit would never fly away. It did. Baxter is lifted into my lap all throughout the day. I am conscious of the fact that life is busy and complicated and, while my dog will always be in the house like Charlie was, plan is to make the time to stop and love on him every single day.

We took Charlie on every car trip that we could. This is because we loved him, he traveled well, and I was just more at peace when I had him with me and therefore knew that he was okay! Plan is to continue this inclusion with Baxter. Awesome memories ahead. Someone send me links to doggie motorcycle compartments, please. When I was making my Charlie photo album this past week, I had 59 photos. Now, I know that there are many more, but I am as organized as a hamster on crack. I'll round them up. However, I want to take more of Baxter. I want every moment memorialized. When he passes away, I want a tidy pile of years well-lived. I want him to know how much he means to me.

Yes, I do realize I'm talking about dogs here. All four of us loved Charlie. We all four grieved his last month of life. I made the remark to my youngest son that I felt I had taken Charlie for granted. "We all do that all of the time," he said quickly. I assumed he meant that we take everything for granted. All of life's pleasure and joys and the people (and animals) we love. It feels like they will never leave. They most assuredly can and often do.

I am one of those complicated and laden-down  people who live in a constant cycle of regret management. When I was holding Charlie at the vet's office on the day we had him put down, I was finger combing his fur. I had shampooed him the night before and he looked raggedy because I hadn't gotten him rinsed as thoroughly as I would normally  have. He was just so uncomfortable and it was awkward to bathe him. I wanted his last few moments of life to be presentable, but they weren't. Not totally. I said to Gary "Well, I'm regret managing again. I guess I should give it up because if I had no regrets that would make me (like) Jesus. He is the only perfect one." It's true.

We can, however, live a little more consciously thankful and loving. Yes I want to savor Baxter in ways that I overlooked Charlie in the chaos of child-rearing. I want to because dogs are gift from God, given to us to cherish and enjoy. But I also want to appreciate the Lord and all that he brings to my life every single day. I want to treat my husband better. I want to reach out to others and give up the notion that there is always tomorrow. There might not be. I thought Charlie, because we gave him the best preventive vet care we could, would be eighteen before he passed. I even wondered, because he seemed so strong for most of his life, if he would be one of those Guiness Book dogs that live to be over twenty. He wasn't. I was given about 6 weeks notice of his passing. It was terrible.

There's a Christian song that says "I'm gonna live like there's no tomorrow/Love, like I'm on borrowed time." Because we are. We all are.