Skip to main content

Saying Goodbye to Penny

I suppose it’s inevitable. We knew the time was drawing near, but now that the final arrangements have been made to put our beloved Penny to rest, I find it nearly impossible to fathom what our house will be like, what our lives will be like with only one doggie scampering around. It was only a year ago that sweet Penny’s insatiable desire to run and retrieve her ball was still going strong, but her physical ability to do it quickly left her these past several months. Though I think the desire would always be there in her smiley face, her eager eyes, and her loving, pleasing heart…dear Penny hasn’t been able to run and chase for a while now. And that breaks my heart. It is a tough realization to come to, a harsh reality for all pet owners at some point. I still can’t hardly think of our cat Steve, without wet eyes, I still miss him that much, three years later. I don’t know how I’ll cope without Penny’s happy presence in our lives…it will be so different.

We were just starting out – so young (and probably stupid) when we decided we needed to add a puppy to our little family…nearly 13 years ago. We fell in love with Penny’s sweet face, her adorable curled tail – like a little piglet, and her round, puppy belly instantly. We videotaped her and Steve wrestling around the house for months as she grew…and the pictures of the two of them curled up together on the chair, or in bed with Matt…will always be precious to me. There are so many memories. Swimming at Mom and Dad’s pool in Muscatine – she would chase a ball into the water over and over – jumping with grace and ease right out into the water and swimming back to the steps to start all over again. That silly dog would go until her pads were bleeding from the rough concrete surrounding the pool. I’ll never forget when she blew right through the screen door heading out to the pool (oops) SO excited to get out there and run and swim. She loved riding in the car…and would always weasel her way up to lay her head between us. Weasel. We’d call her that all the time…for weaseling her way up close…squishing herself between us and Buddy for some love. She patiently let children clamber close and cuddle up with her – even if she’d give us that ‘why me’ pitiful look.

She has been a joy. Truly. Her annoying habits easily accepted by us (they PALE in comparison to our Buddy boy!) My heart is heavy knowing that tonight will be our last night with her sleeping soundly at the side of our bed. I stayed home to work here today – so I could spend another day with her sleeping at my feet under the desk, take her outside and let her roll around in the grass, and take her for a ride in the car with all the windows down so she could stick her head out and take it all in.

I know the time is right – if there is such a thing as the right time. But still…the agony of it is…heavy. Our family will be changed, and her absence will be profound. I know in time my heart will heal. I know we will go on. But I will always miss her – our sweet Penny girl.






Comments

Emily said…
I can't believe that any moron would argue that animals don't go to heaven. God is love - and Penny knows all about love. I'll be saying a prayer for you tomorrow.
dmvflunkee said…
My heart is truly aching as I read your blog tonight Em. I am so sorry for your loss! Penny will be your own little doggy angel in heaven waiting for you at the gates.

Popular posts from this blog

Carrie Anne - The Beginning of the Story

So, I’ve been trying to sort out how to start this story. It’s been difficult to articulate. Difficult to pick which details to share, and which to hold close. But it’s a story too good, too beautiful, not to share – so here goes! When Matt and I first became parents, we thought our family was complete. We envisioned raising Ethan surrounded by loving friends and family – just the two of us. Given all that we had gone through to finally become parents, we felt content with just the one child. The most adorable boy in the whole wide world. Our Ethan was the apple of our eyes – the most amazing gift. We marveled at all of his accomplishments, soaked up all his love and personality, and celebrated the joy of parenthood at every exhausting, wonderful turn. Along the way, we’ve built a strong and loving relationship with Ethan’s birthmother. We visit yearly, and stay in close contact with pictures, emails, and texts. I have attempted to describe my feelings for her many times over the co…

Carrie - The Wait and the Big Arrival!

We arrived in Florida midday Saturday and made our way to the hospital where we met up with Ethan’s birthmother and her mother. We spent a long afternoon in the waiting room while the doctors and nurses put L through a myriad of tests. Finally, they verified the need to induce labor and proceeded to admit her to the hospital with plans to start the induction process Sunday. Exhausted, we left to check in at the hotel and ate what we thought may be our last supper before the baby came…but…. Sunday we arrived at the hospital mid-morning to see how things were progressing. The nurses gave L a medication to help start the dilation process around 12:30 PM…and told us it would likely take 12 hours for things to progress. We stepped out to enjoy the Florida sunshine for lunch for a bit, then settled in for the long haul at the hospital. We spent all afternoon, evening, and night together – holding watch over L as she slept. As we sat there, listening to the baby’s heart beating on the monit…

I may as well tell you...

I had a miscarriage. I’ve debated for weeks whether or not to acknowledge it publicly. It’s such a personal thing…and this is such a public medium. But a few months have gone by and I’m no closer to feeling ok about it and truly nothing else on my mind really compares, so here I am, letting the world in on my secret. Over the past few weeks I’ve found very little comfort in the fact that only a small handful of people know about the miscarriage. It became nearly unbearable this week, during all our wonderful family Christmas celebrations. Being surrounded by so many people who love me and support me and have no idea how my heart has been broken – it’s a lonely place to be. Not that I would want them all to bombard me with pity or questions or sad looks in their eyes – I realize I can’t have it both ways. But a little acknowledgement goes a long way and I simply can’t ignore or deny the fact that something major happened in my life and impacted me, impacts me still.
It was a warm, sunn…