I’ve had a rather rough week this week; I’m not gonna lie.
But telling my son that his puppy, Nube (meaning cloud”, pronounced New-bay) was run over and killed by the speeding neighbors sure did make me stop feeling sorry for myself.
Watching Mr. B, my great big 6-year-old, cry and wipe the tears off his cheeks pulled and tugged at my already heavy heart.
Then, naturally, he was angry. Telling me he was going to go knock on the neighbor’s door and tell them, “You killed my dog! And I loved her!”
He quickly calmed down, but more tears followed.
I will admit, I was not in love with that dog. She was NOT smart and she did NOT listen to me. I would call and call and CALL that little fuzzball and she would ignore me, but the second that Mr. B turned in her direction and said, “pup-peeeeee”, she would come running to him. But it’s so sad at the same time, losing such a sweet little creature who wasn’t yappy or a biter and who was happy to see every person who walked in our door.
On the way to Awana tonight, we were talking about how he was feeling, and suddenly he looked up and said,
“Momma, my dog had a good life. When we got her, she was all dirty and stinky and skinny. But then we took her home and gave her a bath and took care of her and gave her everything she needed and she got to sleep in my bed and I sneaked treats to her. We had a LOT of fun.”
“My dog had a good life.”
He paused again and added,
“Except that we didn’t let her chew on shoes. Because shoes are expensive. I bet up in heaven, she gets to chew on shoes aaaaalllll day long. And she can get up on the table. Hey, maybe she can chew on the shoes while she’s on the table. That would be her perfect heaven, right, Momma?”
“Yep.” I replied. “That would be Nube’s perfect idea of heaven.”
For the next 10 minutes, we rode in silence.
Thinking about Nube sitting on the table and chewing on shoes.
And we smiled.