As most of my friends know, Michael and I have had a difficult week. It started out wonderful with our brand new, fuzzy, cuddly, sweet puppy. As we got to know him, we quickly realized that he was the kind of puppy who preferred cuddling over playing. That was our favorite thing about him. But soon our favorite part became a little concerning. We wanted him to play. We put him on the floor and he turned around and crawled right back into our laps. He did nothing but sleep all day, every day. When we rescued Rocky we were told that he'd just gotten his de-wormer, and we figured it was making him feel a little lethargic.
By day 5 I started to think something was wrong. He started coughing and couldn't stop. He slept the entire day. He still had diarrhea. So we took him to the vet and got a diagnosis - roundworms, kennel cough, and coccidia. With several different type of medication and a lighter wallet, we were optimistic that he'd start playing in a couple of days.
By day 7 he could barely walk, stopped eating, and stopped going to the bathroom. We took him to the vet and they couldn't tell what was wrong. He got some fluids to help with dehydration and was sent home for observation. If he seemed worse in the morning we would bring him in for pneumonia testing.
That night his health plummeted. He couldn't stand. We tried to put him on his feet but they collapsed underneath him. I tried to put him in his crate and he ran into the wall trying to get to his bed. He was taking so many tiny breaths but never seemed to be able to catch his breath. My instinct was to keep him as close to myself as possible. I thought, maybe if he sees how much we love him, he'll have something to fight for. As it neared bedtime, I was planning on keeping him in the bed with me (gross, I know, but I was desperate) so that I could wake him up if he stopped breathing.
But then something amazing happened. He woke up. He was looking around, wagging his tail, licking us. He was responding to his name and watching us. He truly seemed like he wanted to get better. So I put him in his crate.
5 hours later I woke up to check on him. Immediately I knew something was wrong. I couldn't see his body rising and falling rapidly like it was before. I walked over and tried to wake him up. I poked him. I shook his little bed. And finally I tried to lift his head. And then I saw his frozen face and I knew. My poor boy. My poor, sweet boy.
What hurt the most was the shattered hope. The whole time we truly thought he would get better. Sure, there were times it ran through the back of my mind, but I kept thinking he'd be better in a couple of days. It all happened so fast, we couldn't even get a true diagnosis in time.
It wasn't until yesterday that I realized the spiritual significance of Rocky's short time with us. Rocky was obviously a people-dog. He loved being with people, loved being in our laps. It's what he was created for. Even though he only spent a week with us, he had a week with the most love he ever felt. A week of love with us was probably the best week in his short little life.
And in my quiet time right after we found him, I found this verse...
"Better is on day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.." Psalm 84:10.
"Your courts" is referring to God's love. One day in God's love is better than a thousand elsewhere, because that's what we were created for, just like Rocky was created to love and be loved by people. Sure, Rocky was probably happy to some degree staying at the shelter with the other puppies. I'm sure he had his favorite puppy friend that he snuggled with. I'm sure he liked the excitement of when a new person walked to the kennel. But he found his significance in the love that Michael and I provided. He found a love with us that his little puppy friends and random kennel visitors couldn't provide. With us, he was satisfied. And likewise we can, to a degree, feel happy in life without God's love. We have our little friends and sometimes exciting things happen. But we're trapped in a small world, longing for something bigger, longing for something worthwhile.
What I'd like to offer you is the satisfaction that you're missing out of life. You know that tiny thought in the back of your head? Your tiny longing for something more? Something better? That something exists. It's a giant, beautiful cupcake with pink icing and sprinkles and no calories. It's exactly what you're looking for, and it's everything you ever hoped it would be. The best part about this delicious cupcake - it's free! All you have to do is reach out and take it. You don't have to be perfect, you don't have to go fix your mistakes before you take it. We didn't expect Rocky to be perfect when we adopted him. We knew he was a puppy, and there would be accidents on our new carpets and whining in the night and chewed socks. We accepted that he would have to take the time to learn how to live with us. And he got to have the best week of his life. And now his short life can glorify God.
I'm not going to lie, I miss him so much. I have never wanted so badly for animals to get to go to Heaven, so we can meet the real Rocky. But I'm also ok because it is God alone who satisfies my soul, not any puppy. And I'm proud of my boy for fighting so hard.
And yes, when we're ready (and we've scrubbed the house of all of the germs he brought in) we will get another dog.
And yes, Misty misses him. One of the most heartbreaking moments of the whole thing was when she figured it out. She wouldn't leave his side until we took him away for good.
And yes, we're ok. Every day get easier as the shock wears off and the best memories sink in.
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