The Healing of a Heart

It’s been a bit over three months since we let Cian go. The Sad still lingers. It likes to raise its head when I’m tired, stressed, feeling overwhelmed, or driving somewhere alone. Too much time in my own head. I keep his picture at the base of my monitor because I need that little bit of him with me, though it’s gotten to where most days I can think of him with smiles and not tears. On others, I’m not as successful.

It’s been a bit over a month since Finn claimed me. He snatched his piece of my heart with both paws and I’m afraid I love him too much already. I’m not sure I was truly ready for this because I’ve become extremely paranoid something will happen to him, which is very unlike me. It’s to the point where, the morning after Dave told me Finn took off in a game of puppy you-can’t-catch-me, I sent him this text from work…

It’s irrational and, being me, I find it unacceptable, but, there you have it.

Overall, Finn makes me smile, a lot. Okay, sometimes the smile is actually more of a grimace because he’s chomping on my arm or pulling my pants leg. He is the most gator-like puppy I’ve ever had, and nothing seems to convince him otherwise.

*Chomp, chomp, chomp.*
Me: Knock it off.
Finn: What? I’m not doing anything.

Because, you know, the poor puppy doesn’t have any toys to play with. Tell me again why it is my living room looks like a toddler’s playground? Hmmm….

Finn is a smart boy. With very little input, he has learned the best way to get treats, dinner, out of puppy jail, or most other things he wants is to offer a down.

He’s also insanely quick and agile. Which he proves by turning our sectional into his own Puppy Parkour course. Anyone seated there at the time becomes an obstacle. Yes, outrageous, bad puppy behavior. How can I allow such mayhem? Well, because he does it with so much joy and enthusiasm it makes me laugh, and laughing does my heart good.

He’s getting so big. He used to fit under that coffee table. Soon he’ll weigh too much to pick up and hug so I take advantage of puppy snuggles whenever I can get them.

Around the farm, Dillon is Finn’s best bud, at least for now. They wrestle and romp until Dillon has had enough of puppy exuberance and signals he’s done. Finn doesn’t always heed the signal, however, so there are times I have to intervene before Dillon loses his cool.

Jig has no cool to lose. She wants to eat Finn. Literally. Chomp first, ask questions later. All is not lost, however, because she was that way with Dillon when he was a puppy and now they play all the time.

Grady prefers not to be bothered. He’s feeling his age and puppies are obnoxious.

The hole in my heart is still there; some days larger and more empty than others. It isn’t Finn’s job to replace Cian, or make me forget him. Neither of those things could ever happen. Finn has no job other than to be a puppy, make me smile and laugh, and take me on a new journey.

It may have been too soon to bring in a pup, but it’s also too late. Come what may, this little guy isn’t going anywhere.

2 thoughts on “The Healing of a Heart”

  • So sorry Kathy. I will be the same when our Casey goes. She is 12 1/2 now and becoming a bit stumbly, slow and creaky. She still makes us laugh. We have been enjoying her for so long now. Sometimes I see Murphy in her, sometimes Lace, because we only saw Lace when she was older. We are doing our best to keep her comfortable and happy, its all we can do. Our thoughts are with you.

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