His name is Maverick

And he’ll be coming home in a few weeks.

My empty, aching heart spoke last week, asked a friend where she got her dog.  She gave me the name of the breeder, I called and he has a litter.
We visited the puppies on Sunday.   Little guy crawled into my lap and gave me kisses.   He fell asleep in Bear’s arms, paws wrapped around his arm like Max would do.   And then did the same to me.   It was all over for both of us, we knew he had to be ours.

Later that night we got the confirmation that he was indeed ours.   And I sobbed.    Waves of grief for Max, guilt that he might think we’re replacing him, emotions all over.   It’s been a whirlwind – puppy proofing the house, buying stuff, choosing a name – THAT was crazy! – laughing and smiling one minute, and tears welling up the next.

I opened the peanut butter jar tonight – the first time since Max left us.   A stupid jar of peanut butter had me sobbing.

I’m reading like crazy, things have changed in 10 years!   So much to remember, so much to do, reading Max’s puppy diary to remember what puppies are like, and smiling over the silly things he did – this is the fun, joyful part.   I’m planning the stories I’m going to tell Maverick about his big brother.   That’s the sad, bittersweet part.

So another journey begins.    Another walk down the road of loving a fur ball, watching him grow into a good dog and fighting, once again, to keep him healthy and happy as long as we possibly can.   Max taught me so many things.   Let’s see what Maverick has in store for us next.

And thank you, Maxer – for still taking care of Momma.


This entry was posted in dogs, Max, my life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to His name is Maverick

  1. ekurie says:

    You honor Max this way, you know


speak to me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.