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Pippy Love

At 2:39 AM on August 9, 2019, my dear Pippy Love departed this earthly world and entered into doggie heaven.

I know that some people don’t believe there is such a thing as doggie heaven, but I disagree with some people. Ever since my childhood dog, Puff, crossed over that rainbow bridge I’ve believed that God has set apart a special place in heaven for our furry friends. After all, He allowed dogs to be given His name spelled backwards. Could there be any question He has a special place for them in His heart?

Bottom line: our God is too good to not prepare a place for our pets.

To say that I’m devastated is an understatement. Pip was only eight years old. She was supposed to live till at least fifteen – at least that’s what the dog gurus said I could expect given her size and breed. Even when she was diagnosed with Lyme disease and congestive heart failure a few months ago, I was confident she’d beat the disease. After all, that’s what she helped me do when I was diagnosed with Lyme and I was sure I’d help her do the same.

In her last weeks of life, Pippy’s future looked bright. At Frontier Park – her favorite place to sniff and explore – she ran with the vigor of a dog half her age. Her energy was such a source of hope that Mom and I even said to each other, “Look, the Pipster is coming back!”

But, then, on the evening of August 8th, Pippy took a sharp and dramatic turn for the worse. Her breathing became so labored she couldn’t relax. She stretched out her neck, gasping for air. A panic look pierced her sweet, tender eyes. It was terribly distressing just to watch. I can’t even imagine how much more distressing it must have been for my dear Pip to experience.

At the vet we were given two options: put Pip down or put her on oxygen and drain the fluid around her heart. The first option was a sure death. The second was a possibility of three more months of life – best case scenario.

I hated both options, especially since both meant leaving Pippy on a cold metal table in the hands of an equally cold veterinarian. Knowing Pippy, I know she hated those options just as much as I did.

In our eight years together Pip never had to say a word to speak volumes. The two of us communicated on a deeper level. With one simple head tilt to the left I could read her detailed message. It was different than the message she sent when tilting her head to the right. That’s how tight Pippy and I were. We could read each other’s head tilts.

So, when the vet gave me two options, I knew what Pippy wouldn’t want. She wouldn’t want to be left hooked up to a machine with tubes and wires. But I didn’t believe Pippy would want to die by injection underneath the fluorescent lights of a vet’s office, either. The idea of playing God and deciding Pippy’s destiny was unfathomable to me. I wanted God to play God, so I prayed and waited for divine feedback.

It was the middle of the night and we were back at home, laying hands on Pippy and praying for the Holy Spirit’s intervention. That’s when Pippy began struggling even harder to breath. I told my Mom we couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She suggested we get in the car and drive. I agreed.

As we began heading east, in the direction of the vet, I fervently asked God to step in before we reached the doors of that sterile place. “Heal her or take her home,” I asked, hoping for the former but surrendered to God’s will no matter what the future held.

And that’s when it happened. In the arms of my Mom, while listening to WCTL on the radio, Pippy’s labored breathing became shallow. The struggle suddenly ceased as her body relaxed. Her heart beat slowed to a stop and within a few minutes she was gone.

I pulled over near Frontier Park, overcome with heartbreak, shock and disbelief. Just a few hours earlier Pippy had been enjoying a walk along those paths, sniffing grass and breathing in the great outdoors. I couldn’t – and still can’t – fully comprehend that she could die that same night. It didn’t make sense but, then again, when does loss ever make sense?

Pippy was an incredible dog and saying goodbye to her is breaking my heart for a million reasons.

While I was alone and single for the past eight years, Pippy was my companion. I hopped from Florida to Ohio to Florida again to Pittsburgh, with multiple stints in Erie in-between, and Pippy always came along for those rides. She was my constant in a world of change.

Then there was her spirit. Pippy had such a great way about her. She was docile and sometimes even timid. Pip was so kind she would never have dreamed of hurting a fly let alone a human. She was good natured and sweet. Truly a gem of a dog and friend.

Pip was obedient, too. She could walk off leash nearly anywhere and behave like a good dog should. I’ll never forget when we lived in Chagrin Falls, OH where I used to walk with Pippy down in the village – off leash, of course. Bystanders couldn’t believe that Pip stuck right by me without ever venturing into the street. She even stopped respectfully at crosswalks. Before stepping one paw into the street she’d look back at me for guidance, as if to ask, “Is it okay to go, Mom?”

Pippy was my baby, my friend, my comforter and my reason for living for the past eight years. When I was too sick to do much of anything, I still always walked Pippy. There were so many days when my own illness threatened my life and will to live. I used to cry because I felt so useless. “What good is my life if I’m always sick?”

Once again, Pippy gave me my answer. With her big, sweet brown eyes, she would look at me as if to say, “Your life is important to me.” Getting up and doing right by Pippy was incentive for me to keep fighting for my health when defeated tempted me to give up. She gave me reason to keep pushing ahead and, for that alone, I owe her a debt of gratitude that I could never repay.

Pippy was the most incredible dog and I am the most blessed dog mom to have had her by my side for the past eight years. I will miss her more than words could ever convey and I’ll certainly cry more than I will ever admit. But, even in season of mourning as I grieve the loss of my best buddy, I will give thanks to God for the life of my precious Pippy who provided me with such great friendship, comfort and love.  

Pip, I can’t believe your gone but I know that we’re going to meet again.

You were such an amazing dog and I can’t imagine my life without you being in it. You brought joy, laughter and comfort to the hardest decade of my life. Before I ever knew I would need you as my “therapy dog,” God knew and He provided me the perfect pup for the job.

I am going to miss you more than words can say but I will keep your memory with me every single day.

I love you Pipster…You’ll always be my Little Bear. 

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Old Dog, New Tricks

Pippy is stuck in a rut.

On our daily walks, Pippy insists we stop at exactly the same spots so she can conduct her regular sniffing routine.

First, she demands (via stubborn pulling) that I stop at her favorite corner where the scent of a particular pine tree tickles her nose. Then, one block later, she pulls again next to the tall bush with an earthy aroma. Pippy finds this bush intensely enticing.

After she sniffs for a moment, I give her leash a tug and direct her back to our walk but, less than a minute later, she yanks on the leash again. This time we’re near the rusty mailbox. Pippy loves this rusty mailbox. By her frantic sniffing, I suspect there is gold underneath all of that rust. Or maybe rust just has a tantalizing scent to a dog’s keen nose.

On our short fifteen-minute walk around the neighborhood Pippy encounters at least a dozen of these specific stop and sniff locations. This is her habit and, for years, I’ve allowed it to become ingrained in her doggie brain, controlling the pace and pauses of our walk.

But that’s about to change.  

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks but I’m determined to prove “them” wrong by teaching Pippy how to live free of her routine.

After some at-home dog psychotherapy exercises, I discovered that Pippy doesn’t actually need to stop and smell the same patches of grass every day. She doesn’t use these stops to fulfill the basic needs of her bladder. She just wants to stop because she’s used to stopping. It has become her habit. Routine sniffing is Pippy’s rut.

But Pippy isn’t the only one stuck in a rut. I’m stuck in one, too.

Like Pippy, I do the same things over and over again, day in and day out. I go to the same places, at the same time. I think the same thoughts on repeat. I speak the same words to myself day after day after day.

The truth is, I’m no different than Pippy. I’m trapped in a well-engrained cycle. I’m stuck in a rut.

But I’m confident that this old dog can learn new tricks.

Teaching Pippy to break her stop and sniff habit is helping me get unstuck, too. While walking Pippy I’ve discovered that my will power is key to reforming her behavior. If I am halfhearted and weak, Pippy is bound to pull me back to the same sniffing spots she has a thousand times before. In order to change her pattern and teach her how to walk obediently I must hold firm and keep walking (even when Pippy is pulling so hard on the leash it feels like my arm might pop out of its socket).

The same principles of determination and will power apply to breaking free of my own rut.

In order to get unstuck I must surrender my will to God and follow Jesus, not my habits and hang-ups, with determination. I must let obedience to Christ dictate my day, not my routine. I must cease trying to take the lead and let Him order my every start and stop.

While trapped in the rut of my routine I will never be a fluid follower of Jesus. As long as I’m caught up in my habits I’m doomed to a life of stubborn rigidity. Like Pippy yanking and pulling on the leash, my walk with God will be unpleasant and short on peace until I release my will and let the Holy Spirit direct my life.

Jesus must be my pack leader. He must be the one who is telling me when I can stop and go. When He says, “pause,” that’s when I pause. When He says, “walk this way,” then I need to be free of my rut so I can heed the call.

Outside the confines of my rut and routine is a great, big, beautiful world and God will show it to me if I will just stop yanking on His leash. As soon as I relinquish control of my habits and hang-ups and let Christ renew my routine, He will amaze me with awe and wonder as He daily rewrites me a new, wonderful normal.

Pippy and I are both getting older but we are never too old to learn new tricks.  

 

“Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”

Galatians 5:25