Dear Scrubby,

 

Dear Scrubby,

We are coming up on the second anniversary of saying good bye to you. And I thought it was a good time to write you a letter and tell you how we are doing.

We are doing well. We did as you told us and brought another dog into our lives. In fact, we actually brought two dogs to the farm join our craziness. Their names are Arabelle and Ritter. Arabelle is the girl, and Ritter is the boy. You would like them well enough but be frustrated that they ate your food and stole your attention. Don't worry though. They are smart dogs and they are treating your four little people very well. Arabelle helps us on the farm, and Ritter mostly waits for belly rubs. They let all the kids crawl all over them just like you did. (Oh, and we don't let them sleep on any furniture either! We promise!)

We got the new dogs a week after we buried you on the farm. You probably already know this, but we picked a fantastic spot for you to watch out for us. It's between our big house and the grandparents' house. We thought you would like that since you loved Grandpa as much as you loved me. You can see the whole farm from that spot, but mostly, you can see our house. You can keep an eye on us and make sure we are doing well.

We talk of you often and now, instead of crying, we mostly laugh. We picture you in heaven swallowing as many socks as you want with no consequences. We always say that in heaven, they don't make you throw up. We talk about all the peanut butter you are eating. And we continually talk about how you are waiting for all of us. We can't wait to see you again. We say that if we are wrong, and you aren't in heaven, well, we will be so happy to be in heaven that we won't care at that point. But here on Earth, it brings us great comfort. We know there's a Frisbee in heaven and someone is tossing it to you. You can jump for it just like old times.

We still occasionally find one of your white hairs intertwined into the fibers of something in our house. And I still tell everyone that you saved my life. I tell them about how you arrived right after I was told we couldn't have children and that you got me through the hardest year of my life. And then we talk about all the places you went with us -- Florida, Turkey, Portugal, and finally Tennessee. 

What we especially remember is that you got us to our farm. You saw us through many countries and many homes and many children and stood patiently by us -- protecting us and loving us. You arrived at our farm having never been a farm dog and took to the life nearly immediately. You ran around these hills like you had been waiting for them all your life. You ran among the chickens and sheep as if you belonged there, and other than the one time you put a duck in your mouth and John had to explain to you why we don't do that, you acted like you understand what a farm dog does even though you had never been one.

We pass your grave nearly every day, and we talk to you almost every time we pass. 

(Ritter may have peed on your grave once or twice. We are sorry about that. He didn't seem to understand what we meant when we talked about a lack of respect!)

When we pass the spot you are resting at, we tell you that you were a good dog. We thank you for getting us to the farm. I personally thank you for being my first child and helping me survive my final year of infertility. I will never forget all the jogs you took me on, all the cheese you ate, the twenty-four cupcakes you ate off the counter, and the mouse you helped John catch. We also think about all the nipples you ate off of bottles to drink the milk inside. That drove me crazy then, but now it makes me smile.

I miss you Scrubs, but we are doing well. We will always talk of you and miss you and love you, but you did your job. You were a good dog.  

Eat a sock for us!

Your person (Wendi) and the rest of the family

They will not go quietly,

the dogs who've shared our lives.

In subtle ways, they let us know

their spirit still survives.

Old habits still can make us 

think we hear them at the door

Or step back when we drop

a tasty morsel on the floor.

Our feet still go around the place

the food dish used to be,

And sometimes, coming home at night,

we miss them terribly.

And although time may bring new friends

and a new food dish to fill,

That one place in our heart

belongs to them ... and always will.