Member-only story
Midlife Mournings and Snowy Dog Walks
Grieving the loss of a beloved pet
I called Maverick into my room, shaking a bag of treats. He looked up from the sofa, then put his head down. He didn’t want to come lay on my bed. Perhaps he respected Pippi’s old resting place, or honored his independence. Maverick isn’t like Pippi. Pippi needed me.
Since the day I adopted her, Pippi and I went everywhere together. We took the world by planes, paddleboards, and camper vans. Pippi was always getting into mischief and making friends. She was like my child, until I had my own.
After the twins came, Pippi needed me more than ever. She’d caught pneumonia on our cross-country roadtrip and had a hard time getting it under control. After a few close calls and life-saving procedures, Pippi was diagnosed with bronchiectasis and collapsed trachea.
A few weeks before I went into labor, I took her to the hospital for a partial lung lobectomy. I brought her home with an oxygen machine and tended to her with steroids, inhalers, and sound therapy. I even learned Reiki for Pippi. I would do anything to save her.
At the time, Pippi was six. She lived with lung disease for six more years. Pippi was strong willed, and she had a good heart. I joked that she stayed alive for all those peanut-butter treats with her pills…
