Way back when the summer turned into the school year, my heart was heavy with worry and anticipation for my parents. It was becoming heartbreakingly clear that we needed to move my dad out of the home he’d lived in since 1969, and while I knew this was necessary and could even be a good thing, I also knew it was going to be incredibly stressful and sad for all of us. One day in September I told my yearbook staff that I needed a good cry. Others agreed that they, too, could use one, and so a few of us sat and concentrated on trying to cry. It didn’t work.

Fast forward to now, and what I would give to stop having a good cry.

One of our favorite storybooks of Huck’s childhood is Michael Wane Rosen’s “Going on a Bear Hunt” with a chorus that repeats can’t go over it, can’t go under it, we’ve got to go through it. My sister Jeni recently learned that emotions are like a tunnel with a beginning, middle, and end that we have to go through in order to avoid getting stuck in the middle. A few days after my last blog post, Troy experienced every dog owner’s nightmare and lost our Otis forever right as I was witnessing my parents being reunited in Wichita. What followed has felt like trudging through long wavy grass, a deep cold river, thick oozy mud, a big dark forest, and a swirling whirling snowstorm of grief for my precious puppy, the dad I knew, my childhood home. Just like in the book, I thankfully had a very loved one going right through that long dark tunnel with me.

One thing I salvaged from my childhood home was a little Currier and Ives looking clock that plays a sweet Christmas tune on the hour, another thing that can bring on the tears. I called my dad the other day right after the 2:00 song and he agreed that it was a little heartbreaking somehow to hear those songs. Together we used to appreciate Johnny Mathis singing, “Christmas makes you feel emotional.”

There are no words to describe how difficult this transition has been for my dad, and therefore for all of us. He is confused and lost, sometimes literally and four miles away. We were warned it would be a hard move, but we had no idea.

Which is why when a pair of Corgi mix sisters need to be rehomed at the most wonderful, emotional time of the year, you stop everything, wipe your eyes, and drive an hour and a half on a Saturday to meet them, only to dry your eyes again because they remind you of all the dogs you’ve ever loved. (But when Otis Redding begins singing “Try a Little Tenderness” at your highway exit, you quickly skip it because that’s a little too much.)

So we got ourselves each a little Christmas present this year, one named Franny and the other Zuzu, who will undoubtedly be serenaded with the “White Christmas” hit song Sisters throughout their hopefully very long, happy lives. My gift of the year was Huck, never an animal fan, after hearing about us meeting them last weekend, exclaiming: “Oh my gosh, Mom! GET THE DOGS!”

Cue another very good cry.

Otis 2023-2024