The Yellow Butterfly

Almost five years ago I got a frantic phone call that I needed to come pick up a family's dog "RIGHT NOW" or they were going to "take care of her in the backyard." This is one of the not fun parts of rescue. You really get involved in things that are none of your business - like messy divorces where the dog gets put in the middle.

This dog, the Sauce, as we called her, became what is referred to as my heart dog. She was my heart and soul. We were the same person. Me in human form. The Sauce in dog form. But the same.

She was as stubborn as me. As dedicated to cheese as I am. And as religious about sleep. We fell in love. And two years later, a tumor ruptured, poisoining her body and stopping her heart. It was fast, fairly painless, and in her time. We had been told that she had six months to live and she lived nearly two years more. Stubborn in all the right ways.

When she passed away, a friend told me I'd see her again. And I said, "I know." But she said, "No. When you see a yellow butterfly, you'll think of her."

Odd. How often does one see yellow butterflies? I'm not sure I ever noticed them before. But I started looking.

I have seen yellow butterflies three times in the two years that the Sauce has been gone. The first time was the very first walk I took without her. The second time was when we adopted another dog and brought her home. I was sad that I was somehow "replacing" the Sauce. But there she was, flittering past us as I walked our new dog. She approved.

The third time was today. I was walking out of Sams Club with a 40 pound bag of dog food. The Sauce's favorite thing in the whole wide world was eating. And there was the butterfly.

I thought it was odd. But there was food. So it was possible she was saying hello. But I found out later that a friend's dog had passed away today. I think the Sauce was telling me that he was with her.

RIP Sisko!

At Peace?

Just wanted to let you know my current frame of mind. I'm here at peace, at rest. Have a babbling baby on my lap, hubby is upstairs reading to the eldest and my Stillers are winning against dem damn Birds. My hair is wet post-shower, which was post-lawn-mowing. I like mowing the lawn because I can't hear anyone screaming "Mommy!" while I'm doing it. Two puppies are asleep on my couch and the sound of snoring mixed with the window AC unit is music to my ears. Hubby has picked out his new tattoo in honor of a friend's future tat and I have a more clear idea of what I want to emblazen on my bad self. We went to an inquirer's class today and are officially joining a church! (It's PCUSA in case anyone was concerned!) It's good to be me right now.

So what is wrong? There always has to be something wrong, right? Well, I have been pondering the demise of a marriage - not my own, thank God! It's hard when you are friends with the couple and it begins to unravel. Who do you stick with? Do you take sides? In this particular case, it is clear. He may have torn a hole in her heart, but he definitely messed with ours too. I'm not used to that. I'm the tough girl. I can take it all. But last night when I exited my bathroom and saw his smiling mug hanging on my wall, I had to stop and ponder. I am not ready to take the picture down, but it will happen. And I know that when I am ready to cry for her, I will cry for our loss too. I'm just not there yet.