My son Douglas died of cancer in 1998. He was a newborn who developed sacrococcogeal teratoma in utero and his little heart couldn’t keep up with the blood supply demands of the tumor and he passed away September 22nd.
Concerned about my deep, profound grief, my ex-husband adopted a little white german shepherd puppy for me and we named him Mac.
Mac brought me back to life. He was my dog, thoroughly bonded and I could let him off leash and he would follow me around like we were tethered together.
On the 10 year anniversary of Douglas’ death, Mac fell out of my truck window on Highway 80, was hit by a car, and killed.
People thought I should be comforted that this all happened on September 22nd.
I found no solace in the thought that this was all part of God’s design.
In my grief, I adopted a new white german shepherd – named Wendy.
Wendy was three years old and a total disaster.
I adopted her for $25 – no questions asked. I spent $5000+ training her.
We called her our Wild and Wicked Wendy!
Wendy is now 11 years old.
Her back legs don’t work so well.
In fact, they barely work at all.
She doesn’t seem to be in pain. She just can’t move around very well.
I know what’s coming up and it’s going to be SO HARD FOR ME TO LET WENDY GO.
She is also an extension of my son and so long as I have her, I still have a little piece of him left with me.
So spare a thought for Wendy, if you can. She could use some good thoughts sent her way.
So could I.