Trending
When I was a year old, we had a dog named Fluffy.
Around the age of 8, my brother and I were allowed to visit the pound to get another dog for our small family.
We chose the sad one lying in the corner as opposed to the one jumping on the bars, excited to see us. Funny how I remember that all these years later. My mom named her Poco. (Yes, after the band.)
However, as a child, you do not fully understand exactly what a dog adds to your life.
So, following her loss, it ultimately cost us some sadness.
Time passed by. Life went by. And it wasn't until I bought my first home that I was able to have a dog of my very own.
I had wanted a puppy for decades. But too many years had been wasted renting houses, apartments and duplexes. This was my chance.
I rarely brought home a newspaper from work. But on this day, I had written an article I wanted to keep. My husband (at that time) checked the last of its pages -- which he never had before, and informed me there was a Husky puppy for sale.
The cost was $50.
We drove to Wintersville to see the 6-month-old female advertised. When we arrived, a rather large dog was in the yard with three of her smaller friends. My youngest, Noah, was 11 at the time. He still recalls all of their names to this day.
After discovering the largest of the four was the one for sale, I contemplated telling the older woman, "No, thank you." Because this was not what I had envisioned when I thought about getting a puppy.
The woman, hesitant to sell her Husky pup she named Mia, gave the impression she loved her. However, her health did not permit her to house four dogs. She explained she sought $50 because anyone willing to pay was more-likely to give Mia a good life. We returned with a dog leash and collar that evening and transported our new puppy to her fur-ever home.
For the cost of that $50.
Throughout her 14 years, she learned several things. How to sit as close as possible to anyone with food. How to escape the moment a door was left open a second too long. How to run away while still tied up outside -- dragging behind her the entire length of her cord.
Mia learned that every time she became "lost" we would find her and lure her home with cheese. Fortunately, she always arrived back home safely.
For the cost of a piece of cheese.
Of course, Mia also learned to care for Shayley. How to protect me. And how to love.
Once Shayley was gone, Mia decided to give up. Her sister and dearest friend had never returned from her car trip.
In less than three weeks, she never walked again.
Despite feeding her and giving her water through a small suction tool, changing her towels and caring for her wounded paw, she held on. Just as Shayley had. But this wasn't the life Mia once knew. You could see it when you looked inside those brown eyes which always showed her soul.
Shayley's death was the cost of Mia's life.
Without question I would continue taking care of Mia this way until my own last breath. But that is nothing more than selfishness. And so unfair to my dog. Begrudgingly, I have to bring myself to lose yet another dog. My very first puppy. The one that was all mine.
Thank you, Mia, for being the greatest friend my life has ever known. My every prayer is for you to find Shayley once again. Losing you is ... I can't find the words.
This one really hurts.
The cost of losing you ... the very best part of my heart.
(Stenger is the community editor of the Herald-Star and the Weirton Daily Times.)