This Is Me

Jessie Bee
I am a seeker of God, a help-meet to my husband and a mother to my 3 children. I love hot lattes, good books, cold weather and anything that inspires me to be creative. I desire simplicity and authenticity, but often have to remind myself to seek those .
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Friday, October 7, 2011


Last ride in my Dad's jeep.  

Yesterday my family said goodbye to our puppy.

No, she wasn't really a puppy - she lived a full and happy life - but she was the youngest in the line of our childhood dogs and therefore always the baby.  I realize some people may mock the relationship a person can have with a dog, but until you experience the transformation of an animal becoming a family member, it's difficult to comprehend the the reality of the loss.

Reba was our first childhood dog.  We brought her home because she managed to run circles around my little sister (who was a mere toddler at the time) without knocking her over.  Win.  She became the Lassie of the neighborhood, roaming the block playing with the kids and barking at the strangers.  At one point we had to quarantine her because we found out the neighbor boy had jumped on her back and injured it.  She didn't do a thing to him.

Sarah, our second dog, was my personal dog.  My mom insisted "NO BLACK LABS" because we had a friend with a black lab who left dreadful amounts of black hair all over their house, but it was because of that black lab that I wanted a black lab.  Catch-22, ugh.  So I decided I'd go for a Siberian Husky.  "NO SIBERIAN HUSKIES BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO BIG."  Seriously mom?  What CAN I have?  =)  I finally settled on trying to find a Siberian Husky mix because they'd likely be white with light eyes, and if mixed with the right breed, would be smaller.  Besides, our family has always been a sucker for mutts.  Whatever the dog, I was going to call her Honey because I thought it was the perfect name for a dog.  One afternoon we walked into the Humane Society and - lo and behold - the angels were singing and shining down on this one dog.  She was a medium-sized Siberian Husky mix named Honey.  I kid you not.  I called my mom over, absolutely thrilled that God would answer my request so perfectly...until my mom pointed out the reason she was there: "Does not get along with other dogs."  Seriously?  I'm sure I looked for a candid camera at that point.  Or suggested that some animals were meant to be wild and we should go ahead and set Reba free.  Yeah, that didn't work.  So we kept looking.  Long story short...we came home with Sarah - a black lab/dalmation mix.  I'd like to say my mom ate her words, but since she was the one who let me get Sarah, I won't.

Penny came very soon after.  She was the runt in a pack of misfit pups - part coyote/part German Shepherd.  Little did we know what we were in for.  A snapshot of her life includes electrocution (her own fault), eating a couple pounds of chocolate and sprinting through the house for. several. hours., trying to escape the lawn chair she was tied to while down at Fiesta Island, and keeping all the airplanes out of the yard for the many years we were blessed to call her ours.  And to this day we've never had a plane land there.  In honor of her service, I made this:

I put it on her little grave in my parents backyard.

Last night I went to bed just fine.  I was thinking a lot about my younger sister, to whom Penny belonged, because I realized this was her first night without her dog.  Those first nights are always the hardest.  But I was fine...until this morning.  Because I have to go to my parents house today.

I haven't lived with Penny since I moved out of my parents house several years ago, but I go to their house quite regularly (can anyone say "free babysitting", haha).  I have no doubt I was secretly Penny's favorite visitor (don't worry Penny, I won't tell anyone) if only because I would come in feeding her handfuls of treats.  Actually, the treats were a ploy to get my mom's puppies to like me and, to this day, have STILL not made a dent in our relationship.  But if chunky ol' Penny was going to go wriggle and squirm to stand up and trot over to me, of course she was going to get some.  Of course.

But not today.  Yesterday she joined our two other childhood dogs wherever dogs go when they die.  There are some arguments that animals make it to heaven, and I'll be okay believing that if only because it makes me smile to think that she's running with her canine sisters and probably keeping the angels from landing.

 Rest in peace, Penny.  We love you.


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