Not a dog person

I'm not a dog person. There, said it. I used to want to be a dog person. I felt bad that I wasn't a dog person, but then I just realized one day, after being told too many times that I wasn't, that I wasn't and that was okay. My mom would say it was due to a trauma in my childhood that took away that love of dogs for me. When I was 12, my Dad gave my mom a shih-tzu puppy for her birthday. I took the puppy outside to show my friends and when I walked inside I dropped her. She fell out of my hands and hit the floor. I ran away to a friends house. She didn't make it. As I type this, I do realize how traumatic this probably was. My mom of course took me to therapy where the therapist told me she had opened a door once and smashed some kittens behind it. So, I felt better.

No, not really. 

When I married my late husband Steven in 2006, the first thing we wanted after we were married was a dog. I wanted a big dog. I didn't want a little dog like the ones I had grown up with, maybe that was because I knew I couldn't drop a big dog. So we agreed on a yellow lab, found a breeder and picked her out of the litter. She was the one hiding under the couch that came out to greet us and crawled into Steven lap. She knew she was supposed to come home with us. Since we had no kids, this pup was our kid. We named her Hana. Between puppy classes and trips all over town with us, she became our loyal dog. She had her moments as a pup. Once I put a bag of frozen chicken fajitas on the counter to thaw. When I came home, it was gone. Outside I found dog poop with plastic and paper in it. I couldn't believe she ate the entire frozen mix, veggies, chicken, paper and plastic. She survived, clearly. When she was just 9 months, she started running on three legs, lifting her back leg off the ground. We took her to the vet only to find out she had hip dysplasia. After a consult in San Diego, our options were to pay the $3,500 surgical bill or put her down. Mind you we were newly married, still finishing college without a savings. We got on a monthly payment plan because putting down our pup was not an option.

I still was not totally a dog person. I loved Hana. She was our family dog and a really good one at that. We'd camp in the desert and it was her favorite place because she could be off leash and wander around between the trailers of people we were with. We were proud because she'd always poop outside of the circle of trailers, so thoughtful. When Steven died, Hana age quickly. I was in a fog for months and during this time, Hana was living at Stevens aunts house,I'm not even sure to this day how she ended up there. I almost didn't realize she was even gone until one day I felt a huge void without her. I jumped in my car, drove to his aunts and picked her up. She's been my silent companion ever since. 

Hana became very attached to Travis when he came around. Similar to her relationship with Steven, she knew Travis was an important person and a dog person for sure. In the beginning, she would lay at the door waiting for him to come home and was always the first to greet him. Hana's favorite place was the front yard. At our Rubicon house, Hana would push open the screen door with her nose and lie in the front yard, watching the world go by. She never wondered off, never ran away, she'd just bark at the screen when she was ready to come in. She taught Kona everything he knows, which is why he is so loyal now too. Hana accompanied us on our year across the US and although I was hesitant to take her because she was old, and although Travis killed his back lifting her in and out of the truck every day, I am so glad we got that time with her. She would not have been happy without us either. When she would stay at my parents if we went out of town, she'd wonder the house, looking for us and then sleep in the kids room at my parents. She belongs with us, so we took her.

Now that Hana is gone, I realized that I have never been a mom without her. I haven't been a wife without her. All of my grown up experiences, everything I grew to know in life as an adult, becoming a mom, raising 4 boys, learning to be a wife, I've done with her at my side. She's always been there. For 13 years I've heard her nails across the floor of 5 houses and a trailer. I've thought about her at dinner time and let her out to go potty. I've taught the boys to walk her and pick up her poop, learning to care of her. I've told her how bad she stinks 1000x and watched her judge my decisions but still love me. Hana's been loyal beyond words and now that she's gone, her void is immense. Her dog bed is so empty that it fills the room with a weird sense of loneliness. She's not there to greet me when I walk in the door and come down the stairs, she's not barking at us to let her outside because she's too old to use the dog door. She's gone.

Losing Hana was losing a huge part of Steven again. I told Travis the other night that I realized that it was Steven, Hana and I for a few years. We were the original 3 who started this family and now only 13 years in, I'm the only one left. We knew her time was drawing near because Hana stopped eating last week. Travis noticed some dog food in her bowl and for Hana not to eat was completely out of character. Two nights before she passed, I took a quilt, made of Steven's clothes, out of a box and laid it across her. She lifted her head, smelled it and laid back down. I told Hana Steven was waiting for her, I told her she could go. I thanked her for being there for me all of those years and I apologized for not being the best and most attentive to her. Guilt is heavy. 

Hana wasn't just a dog, she was my companion over the years, she was a member of this family, she was the other girl in our home. She was not just a dog, and, I guess that's what dog people say. People who lose their dog who are dog people say, "they're not just a dog."
​Maybe I am a dog person after all.