Pepper

We always referred to Chopper and Scooter as "salt and pepper". After Chopper's initial puppy stage, the two were inseparable. Salt and Pepper. As Scooter got older and wasn't as active as she once was, Sophie took over as Chopper's partner in crime. Since Scooter died June 5th, Sophie has tried to find her place with me as well, but I have misplaced resentment of her for being alive while Scooter isn't.

Scooter was one of the most amazing animals I've ever known. Though she was 8 when we had our first baby, she never snapped at him if he pulled on her ears, or put his hand in her food bowl. If he cried, she would run back and forth between him and where I was, jumping and barking at me to move my butt. When I was giving birth to Drew, a friend of mine had to physically restrain her from jumping into the birth pool. Her never let her concern for me and my family take a break.

Yesterday, I picked up her ashes from the vet. I expected the box to be bigger and I don't know why. When we got home the kids wanted to see the contents of the small dark cherry box. I had explained to them ahead of time that Scooter was "Scooter sand" now. When I opened the box I held my breath expecting a puff of ashes, but they were contained in a plastic bag. It didn't feel right picking the bag up, but I did. I've never seen cremated ashes and was slightly stunned at what they looked like: pepper. Gray and white particles mixed together. The boys lost interest very quickly but I couldn't help studying the contents of that bag. I was searching for something that would hold any proof that it was her... something recognizable. Obviously I didn't find anything. I don't know if it would have made it more real to me, but I needed "proof" that she was actually gone. I held and pet her head while she died, and I felt her take her last breath. I searched her eyes for her soul and found it wasn't there anymore. I stroked her ears for a bit after she was gone, told myself she couldn't feel it, but couldn't stop. I wondered in that moment, if the grief I felt was worth the time I had with her.

Whenever you acquire a pet, you know they are going to die before you. We know this, and we give them all our love anyway.

The Taoist in me says "if life is infinite, then this is not life" (Dyer). I believe the core of who she is, is moving on. But I know she isn't with me, and that makes it hard to be happy for her.

Regardless of my sadness now, the conclusion I have come to is the grief is worth it. The saying "it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all" is so true. To be alive is to make true connections to others around you, to see their differences and appreciate how amazing they are. To receive that unconditional acceptance keeps you moving through the tough times. If you never knew love, you'd have nothing to live for.

We start relationships, and get our hearts broken. We have children and live in constant fear for their safety. Wouldn't it be easier to avoid these things? Absolutely. But opting out on the good times... that would not be worth missing.