Saturday, January 21, 2012

Bichon Frise Saved My Life

Looking out my kitchen window...
a special cardinal keeps watch over me!
Our temperatures this morning are below zero.  Yesterday, Mother Nature snapped her finger and a winter wonderland magically appeared.  Oh, I know, it's real easy for me to call a heavy snowfall a  wonderland, because I'm not the one who has to go out and clear the walks and driveway.  But, someone has to play the part of the Appreciator, and that's me!

It's a mighty special day at our home today.  Fuzzy One's 10th birthday.  When I look at her, my mind rewinds back to the day we got her.  My family, just months before, lost my 16-year-old nephew to a tragic suicide.  From the day the little guy was born, a heart string went from his heart directly to mine.  We both knew it and joked about it.  Losing him the way we did just about took me down for the count.  It was a struggle for me to take the next step and the next breath.  Hubby talked me into getting a puppy to help heal my despair.  We went to the Humane Society and adopted a needy little Shih Tzu.  Char-Lee's first, and only, Christmas with us brought us renewed joy as we watched him rip open his presents, play with his new toys, and chase freely around the house.  Two months later our little guy started having problems, and we lost him to a brain tumor.  If my heart was ravaged before, now it was even more so.

A co-worker told me about a lady who raised dogs out on her farm.  I didn't want to listen because I was not ever again going to set myself up for another loss.  Then, yet another co-worker sat with me one day and asked me if the love another gives us doesn't outweigh the pain of losing them.  At first his words didn't sink in, but when I got home and thought about it more, I realized he was absolutely right.  Love wins over all else, and my heart had all this extra love to give.  That's when we decided to get who ended up being our fuzzy one.

She was the only girl of seven Bichon puppies, laying in a heap one on top of the other, beneath a warming lamp.  The lady picked up the 6-week-old little girl and handed her to hubby.  He cupped the little soul in his hands, put her to his face, and then I saw the smile that told me something very special had just happened.  He handed her to me and said, "Don't you think this is the one?"  Words couldn't and didn't come from my mouth, but tears had no trouble coming from my eyes.  That, my friends, is the story of how we got our fuzzy one.

Just as we carried her to the car to take her home, snow flakes starting falling down on us from a sunny sky.  The soft flakes felt like strikes of lightning.  I knew my nephew was sending me a message that to this day eases my broken heart.

We'll be celebrating with pink cupcakes and ice cream.  Both of us sang happy birthday to her, solo.  She looks back at us with those feisty black eyes, and she knows she's our Princess.  She wears my Gramma's name for a crown.  Others would say she's insanely spoiled, but we say she's excessively loved.  It scares me to think she's already ten years old, but I hear words from the past reassuring me that the love she gives us, and we give to her, is all that matters.

If I could have one wish today, it would be that all who read this could come to our home for a pink cupcake and a scoop of ice cream!