Love never dies.

I’ve been thinking about writing this for days, and I need to get it over with.

I need to write about Penny.

I don’t know where to start, so I’m going to start from the beginning.

Penny was my birthday present for my 26th birthday. My family knew I wanted a small dog, and my aunt called me one day and told me I had a dog. A Pug.

Sweet!

I will never forget the day I met Penny. I remember holding her and thinking that I wasn’t expecting her little face to be that cute.

She had a perfect Pug forehead full of wrinkles. They were so adorable!

Penny came home with me to my mom and dad’s house that night. The intention was for me to bring her back to my apartment in eastern Kansas that weekend.

But here’s the thing about Penny: Penny did not understand how to be a puppy. She screamed at me. She spit in my face. She whined and cried all night while I slept by her with a pillow and blanket by the floor.

This cute little Pug puppy turned into a demonic monster almost immediately the day I brought her home. She was so difficult my family and I decided she was the worst dog we’d ever had.

I went back to eastern Kansas without her. My parents kept her for a while, and when Penny drove them to the point of insanity, Penny went to live with Uncle Jeff for a while.

Penny became the Springer family Pug.

I got her anxiety medicine for separation anxiety, and a few months later Penny made the trek east for me.

About a week later, she chewed her way through an electrical cord in my bedroom when she was bored one night while I was sleeping.

When I realized what happened, I took her to the vet to make sure the burn marks in her mouth weren’t anything serious.

The vet I went through asked me a lot about Pugs. He asked me if I had ever owned one, and when I said no, that old man got a twinkle in his eye.

He told me that they were the best dogs ever. He told me that out of all the dog breeds, this breed was so special that it has its own festival, called Pugfest.

The vet told me Penny was an idiot, but she was fine health wise. And the the vet told me to check out Pugfest sometime.

From that moment in life became about Penny and me. We went walking, we checked out dog parks - there was a Great Dane that loved little dogs who always came into our area of the park to check Penny out (with my permission.). She loved playing with him.

Penny turned out to be the best dog ever.

The thing about Penny is that she was never a friendly, outgoing dog. Penny had her close circle of trust - people who raised her as a crazy puppy - and she only really liked those people and no one else.

Penny was with me in an apartment, she bought a house with me, and she met every single guy I ever dated.

Which brings me to my favorite story about her. Penny played fetch with every single guy I ever dated. Please make sure you understand that - Penny played fetch with them, on purpose. Not the other way around.

Penny would sit on the couch between me and whoever I was dating, and she would have her favorite little tennis ball in her mouth. She would spit it out, on the floor, on purpose.

Then Penny would look at whichever guy was sitting beside her. The guy would inevitably get up, get the tennis ball, and give it back to her.

She did this repeatedly until I told the guy to stop chasing the ball.

When the guy got up, Penny would look up at me. She just gave me a look and I understand what she meant by that look.

No guy I ever dated was smart enough to figure out that Penny was playing fetch with them on purpose. Judging by the look she gave me, she knew that, too.

Like really, Mom? This is what I have to work with?

Penny, I’m sorry. I tried but none of them were good enough for you.

Another story about Penny as a puppy: I worked out of town and out of state a lot when she was little. My parents would watch her for the week while I was away.

One night, I was in Nebraska and my Mom called me. She was cussing and screaming and I honestly didn’t know she knew that many cuss words.

I didn’t do anything to deserve that anger, so I just kind of let it go.

After a minute or two, I figured out what my Mom was mad at. Penny Pug, as a puppy, killed a rat in my mom and dad’s backyard, then brought the rat into the house and buried it in my mom’s living room couch.

My Dad was out, so my Mom was left to deal with a dead rat in the house.

I don’t see the problem in saving a little snack for later. 🤷‍♀️

Penny was the best thing that ever happened to me. The worst birthday gift I ever got turned out to be the biggest blessing in my life.

—-

Grief is a wild ride.

I knew that losing Penny would be devastating. I knew that it would destroy me and I knew I wouldn’t be okay for a long time after that.

I don’t know if it’s normal to obsess over a song and have that be the song you listen to when you're crying your eyes out, but for the past week I’ve been obsessed with The Architect by Kacey Musgraves.

Even something as small as an apple
It's simple and somehow complex
Sweet and divine, the perfect design
Can I speak to the architect?

And there's a canyon that cuts through the desert
Did it get there because of a flood?
Was it devised, or were you surprised
When you saw how grand it was?

This is hard to write about, but someone smart once told me that when you write about something, you start to heal from it.

So we’re going to talk about the hard stuff now.

Guys, I’ve been thinking about this all week. I understand life, I think, and I understand death, I think, and I understand that life is a part of death and that death is a part of life.

I have seen death through work, a lot, and I know in my head that all things that live will eventually die.

I told my parents not too long ago that I didn’t think Penny would live to the end of the year. I got her for my birthday in April, so I really wanted her to live to see her gotcha day anniversary.

Penny’s body started declining, and it happened to rapidly that I’m still in shock at how fast it was.

I regret a lot about the last few weeks of her life. Penny, I’m so sorry you suffered. You deserved so much better.

One night, I took her to the best place in the state to help her, which was a university veterinary hospital a couple of hours away from my house.

They took her for an after hours emergency appointment.

I sat in the waiting room and I cried so hard that there were actually sores on the sides of my eyes from my tears.

Guys, I know what the answer is to this situation, but I just wanted someone to tell me out loud that it was time.

And no one told me that. They gave Penny medicine for one month and dodged the rest of my questions.

I left that university town around 9:30 p.m., and I drove back to my city. I am not a fan of nighttime driving, and I was so tired that I just prayed that I would stay awake and get us all home safely.

Was it thought out at all, or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything that you regret?
I don't understand, are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?

It was me, alone on the interstate, driving in total darkness. There were a lot of clouds out that night, and I remember searching the sky, trying to see stars.

I finally found some, and as soon as I found the stars, I realized something and I will never forget that moment.

That was the moment that I realized that I loved this dog so much that I was willing to end her suffering. I knew that she would not survive this ordeal, and I told myself that I had to be strong enough to let her go.

That night when I got home, I got Penny situated and put her in bed. I got down on the ground and had a conversation with her. I told her that she was free to stay around for as long as she wanted. I told her that I would cancel my travel plans, get her whatever medicine she needed, and give her oxygen if she needed it.

I told her that I would make her end days as comfortable as possible.

And then I told Penny that she didn’t have to stay if she didn’t want to. I told her that if she wanted to go, I would let her go.

I told her that she didn’t have to stick around for me. I was ready if she was ready.

I kissed her, told her goodnight, and then told her that she needed to tell me if it was time.

The next morning when I woke up, I knew instantly that it was time.

Penny told me loud and clear.

Sometimes I look in the mirror
And wish I could make a request
Could I pray it away? Am I shapeable clay
Or is this as good as it gets?

I didn’t realize that Penny was holding on because I was holding on. She wasn’t willing to let go until she knew that I was strong enough to let go.

I made the last few hours of Penny’s life the best day ever. I bought her a double cheeseburger. I put her in bed beside me, and I turned my Bluetooth speaker on.

I played Penny and Me, the song that she is named after. I played it on repeat and I explained to my dog that my best friend and I found this band when we were little. I told Penny about that band, how I had a meet and greet with them, and how the song that she is named after is 20 years old.

Penny was almost 14 years old. I told her that I loved that song so much, I knew that I wanted to name my dog after it.

I sat on that name for six years until I got a dog of my own.

Then I played her all of the other music in my life. I told her about concerts, about meet and greets and plane rides and big cities and the people I’ve met along the way.

Pickles came and laid by Penny. I turned a lamp on for some soft lighting, and we chilled out and listened to music in her final hours.

I told her that she was going to this place called the Rainbow Bridge, and that there would be dogs waiting for her on the other side. I told her that she would get to meet my childhood dogs, Socks and Patches, and then I named off all the other dogs my family has had over the years.

I told her that there would be no pain, only happiness and warmth. I told her she would not be alone.

I never realized how much dogs can completely wreck you. I heard a saying that the reason people love dogs so much is because the only time they break your heart is when their heart stops beating.

One day, you're on top of the mountain
So high that you'll never come down
Then the wind at your back carries ember and ash
Then it burns your whole house to the ground

When I brought Penny home, she was wrapped in my arms in love and warmth and kindness.

She left the world in the same way. I got in her sweet little beautiful face because I wanted to be sure that I was the last person she would see before she left the world - not a doctor’s office or people she didn’t know.

She drifted off to sleep, started snoring, and then that was that.

I really wanted to take her to a nature area by my house on her final day. I wanted her to relax in the sunshine and breathe in fresh air.

When I woke up that morning, it was 45 degrees and raining. I knew instantly why the weather was the way it was.

This dog was so special that even God cried the day she left this earth.

Like I said earlier, in theory, I understand life and I understand death. I understand that death is a part of life and that life is a part of death.

To say that I am struggling right now is an understatement. This grief is so real that there are moments when I honestly just can’t function.

I can’t believe I live in a world where Penny doesn’t exist.

Is it thought out at all, or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything that you regret?
I don't understand, are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?

I went to a concert a week after she passed away. Guys, I would have skipped that concert in a heartbeat if she were still alive. At one point, I thought about taking the dogs with me and driving Penny to the ocean so she could see the beach before she died.

But life is cruel and what happened happened.

I thought about not going. I was so mad at the world and hurt and grieving that I thought about staying home and sulking in my grief, sadness and depression.

I left for that concert when I really didn’t want to, and for that, I am really proud of myself. I wore Pug shoes with sunglasses on them to the concert, for Penny.

I had a moment where I was singing my favorite song by my favorite artist that I thought about Penny and I wondered if she was proud of me for trying to be happy.

And then I lost it. I cried so hard in that dark crowded room and I didn’t even try to hide it. The house lights came on and I remember turning all around, looking at the people around me and looking at the total bliss and euphoria on their faces.

Somehow that night, the music seemed sweeter. The vibe around me was vibing and I don’t know if it was the sadness or grief, but the music I heard that night was the best music I had ever heard in my whole entire life.

My favorite song of his? That was the best version of it I’ve ever heard. The song after that? Best version ever. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It felt like that was the first time I had ever seen this guy in concert or heard his music. (Hint: I’ve done this a few times now.)

Someone asked me after the concert if I was okay, because I had visible tear stains on my cheeks.

I don’t remember my response, but in my head the answer was no.

I am not okay.

I thought that I was too broken
And maybe too hard to love
I was in a weird place, then I saw the right face
And the stars and the planets lined up

And I think that is perfectly okay. I think it’s okay to cry and I think it’s okay to scream and I think it’s okay to be upset that the dog that you had for 13 years is no longer by your side.

My family and my friends back home knew that this was going to tear me apart. They knew that I would not be okay after this. So they did what they do best - they let me fall apart, then they took care of me and tried to put the broken pieces back together.

Well, they did as best they could. When someone knocked on my door and delivered puppy flowers, I lost it and couldn’t look at the card for a few days.

Grief is a wild ride.

Does it happen by chance? Is it all happenstance?
Do we have any say in this mess?
Is too late to make some more space?
Can I speak to the architect?
This life that we make, is it random or fate?
Can I speak to the architect?

Is there an architect?

—

I knew before Penny passed away that I would be adopting a new dog. I already named him and already loved him.

I knew that if I could just survive this awful, tragic day, that I would eventually smile again and have happiness waiting for me.

I know that in order to get to the good times, you have to experience the pain and hurt head on first.

The only way out is through. Through the tears, the sobbing and the grief so real that my body physically hurts from it.

Here is what I know to be true: Love never dies.

On the night I got home from the concert, I did my nightly routine. I took a shower, brushed my teeth and did my skincare.

And then I did what I always did before bed - I looked for Penny. She was usually in her bed, but sometimes she went to eat supper. She would usually walk, but sometimes her legs would give out and I would find her sitting somewhere random.

I would find her and carry her to bed. When I gave her a ‘ride’ I called it a Pug Uber. I told Penny that she owed me $5 for that ride.

And then she would kiss me and wag her tail.

That night, a week after she died, I wandered around my place and I looked for my dog.

She wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t by the food bowl and she wasn’t by the front door. I also looked in the laundry room to see if she got trapped in there.

Where is Penny? Why can’t I find her?

And when I realized what I was doing, I completely lost it.

I was looking for my dead dog.

I cried so hard that I couldn’t even speak. I didn’t know what else to do, so, a few minutes after midnight, I called my Mom. She was already asleep and when she answered, all I could do was sob.

She listened to me cry until I told her what I as wrong.

I couldn’t find Penny. Where was she?

My Mom told me that I loved Penny for 13 years and that the love I felt her her would never die. She told me that grief lasts for way more than a week and she told me that it’s fine and normal that I was crying and not okay at the moment.

She also told me that I was strong enough to adopt a new dog and welcome it into my life, just like I did with Penny.

She told me that another dog deserved my love. She told me that I was strong enough to love again.

And I am.

And for the record, I picked up Penny’s ashes the next day. I put the bag in my car, looked at it and said out loud: “You know, I was looking for you last night. I’m glad I found you.”

Grief is a wild ride.

Penny was the best thing that ever happened to me. For 13 years, it was always Penny and Me tonight.

I will never forget how soft her fur was or how her ears felt like velvet on my fingertips.

I remember her adorable little forehead wrinkles and how her paws always smelled like Cheetos. And let’s not forget how she Pug loafed or her Cinnabon tail.

I love you, Penny. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.

You taught me how to love, how to laugh, how to deal with anxiety and how to sleep in until noon on the weekends.

You taught me that it’s okay to hide underneath the covers.

You were the Greatest Pug in the History of Pugs. You were the best dog on the planet. You were such a good dog that God himself cried the day he met you.

I hope you liked me and I hope I did a good enough job raising you.

I love you to the moon and back, I love you all the stars in the sky. I love you through the clouds and the storms and through the smoke from the fires in the hills in eastern Kansas.

I’ll love you forever.

(And for what it's worth, I've been to Pugfest in the past and I'm going to Pugfest this year.)

Literally.

One of the things I wasn’t expecting when my nieces were born was how much they would mature when they started school.

The twins are in second grade, and their baby sister is in kindergarten. 

The following conversation took place between the twins, who turned 8 a few days ago.

L: Do aliens have ears?

K: They literally do. 

LITERALLY, aliens have ears? 🤣

I’m sorry I can’t finish this blog post right now, because an 8-year-old just slayed me by using a word that I have a giant girl crush on.

LITERALLY.

Later that night, we had the twins playing Scrabble. K was in the lead, and was really proud of that, until L played a word and got 14 points from it.

K was no longer ahead, and that pissed her off.

K, talking to her twin sister: You have evil glasses. You have evil toes and feet. You have evil glitter on your shirt. 

Again, K is slaying me with words right now. 

K and I talked about words that rhyme. I spit out the word ‘bed’ and before I could even think, the next poet laureate of the United States started rhyming words.

These kids are the coolest kids I’ve ever met. 

Go best friends!

Also, you’d think a writer would be good at Scrabble, but I suck at it. 

Geeks

I contributed three things to bar trivia last night.

One, I knew the name of an Eminem song. Two, I knew what comic book movie started with the letter "V" (it's Venom) and I knew a question about Avengers: Infinity War.

My thought this morning when I woke up: Thank God for my brother. At least I know something important about life because of him.

:)

Life in photos

Dignity, grace and class

I haven't been blogging much recently.

My life has been fairly mundane, and nothing new or exciting is happening.

Last week, there was a day when the wind was out of control. My co-worker and I noticed our eyes burned when we were outside. To be honest, I was nervous about something else and I wasn't paying much attention to recent happenings.

It turns out there was a fire, maybe a mile or two from where I live and work. (I don't know the exact distance, maybe it's three miles.)

There was a rumor going around town that a house burned down. Back in the day, everyone took swimming lessons at this house. This house, along with the people who live in it, are literally the definition of my childhood.

Rumors swirled around for a day or two. Then, the son posted photos on Facebook. The house survived, with some damage to its siding and windows, but everything else was gone.

For the record, I think the fire got seven homes near town.

Anyway, a couple of days after that, my Dad asked me if I wanted to go to their house. The owners of the house with the pool had asked him to look at and possibly fix something.

Sure, I said.

I followed him out there, and talked to the wife while my Dad tinkered around and tried to fix the issue.

Donating money is great, and donating food is also great, but part of helping people just involves being there. The wife remembered me right away, asked about my life, my mom, and things like that.

"You look different from the last time I saw you," she said.

Yes, aging 25 years does that to a person.

:)

After we left, I told my dad something.

There was not an ounce of anger in anyone's voice at that house.

It's easy to place blame, to say that the fire never should have happened in the first place.

But that evening, no one at their house was angry. They thanked and credited firefighters for saving their house.

The pool that I swam in when I was little looks a little...different. Not even the pool liner survived, but you can see a part of the handrail that led into the pool. It now leads to a blackened hole in the ground.

If I ever go through something like that, in the face of tragedy, of adversity, and of trying times where losses are monumental, I hope I show an ounce of the dignity, grace and class that they showed me that night.

I didn't go there that night to take photos, or even to write a blog post about it.

I went there because I care.

I sent money to another family who lost their house, also because I care.

Because that's what you do when this happens.

You care.

You help.