It started last January.
Sausage McDog, otherwise known as Jack, passed away. Jack had melanoma, a hopeless disease. We gave Jack four more good years. We took him off his diet. We let him be what he was.
We said we wouldn’t have another dog. We said we weren’t dog people.
I guess maybe we weren’t dog people, we were simply Jack people and our home didn’t feel the same without him. When Big Daddy went out of town, I felt ill at ease and less safe than I did with Jack here guarding the fort.
I told Big Daddy I wanted another dog. He was less than thrilled. We went over the million reasons why we didn’t think we should get another dog, but it wasn’t a wholly logical decision. I missed the jingling collar and heavy foot fall. I missed the warmth. I missed Jack.
Right before my birthday, we found a match. A four month old black lab puppy rescued from a puppy mill. Big Daddy and I drove four hours on a Wednesday night to pick her up.
It’s been an adventure.
Juno looked after the women of Rome. Ancient etymologies says that Juno meant to rejuvenate. To help. She is connected with the vital force, the fulness of vital energy. And this? Oh, yes, this is our girl.
Her potential is there, hiding under the surface. She’s waiting for us to teach her and her capacity and willingness to learn seems great.
“She’ll be your greatest friend”, I say to Littlebit in a whisper, “She’ll keep all your secrets. You can tell her anything and everything. She’ll protect and love you for her entire life.”
And it’s true.