Farewell, Dear Trigger

At the risk of this blog simply becoming a running obituary of our pets, we absolutely had to pay tribute to our dear Trigger.  She was certainly present (or at least part of our family) for all of our adventures. When not in tow (which was often) she patiently waited for us to return, and never failed to give us a hero's welcome.  Even if no one else on the planet seemed to care, Trigger could be counted on to make you feel important and loved.  But Andy said it best when he penned the following.  I have simply added pictures.

My sweet dog Trigger passed away last week at the not-so-spring-chicken-like-age of 13.  And notwithstanding her longness-in-the-tooth, her death came quickly and without warning, even if it was peaceful.  Her passing was oddly coincidental to the recent death (last month) of my fat cat Weasel because I was out of town for both passings.  Being absent to cradle them in their final breaths causes me some amount of guilt in addition to my sorrow.  As those with pets surely know, pets properly loved become family members.

Trigger was no exception to this, and she and I shared better than a third of my life (and all but two months of hers).  Trigger was with me when I walked Shawn home from out first date.  "Ugly dog" as I affectionately, albeit correctly, called her was among the many things that Shawn would have to learn to love about me, tolerate, or ignore.  Or course, Shawn learned to love Trigger, which was easy given Trigger's sweet disposition, impeccable behavior, and terrible looks (which must have made me far more handsome by comparison).  Trigger was one of the best dogs ever.

Trig was unfailingly patient and pleasant, even though she was always resigned to being "just the dog."  The top of our family's veritable family totem pole changed often; from the introduction of Weasel, followed shortly by Ladybug, and years later with two actual children.  The bottom, however, remained constant.  And Trigger waited patiently as her share of parental time continued to diminish.  Always a lover, she was ready at a moment's notice to go for a ride or walk, but was also happy just being around people.

For my own part, mine became a love-hate relationship with Trigger: love for all those that you love a great dog, and hate for knowing that I did not deserve her and that she was not treated as well as she deserved.  Too often she was neglected, relegated to getting out of the way, and treated more as an irritation and unwanted distraction than the valued member of the family that she was.  There might be a special place in hell reserved for me for being a bad owner to Trig, yet even in hell, she would be right by my side, ever the loyal mutt.

I am still traveling, which thus far has prevented me from making my peace with my oldest friend.  Normally I keep these sort of feelings to myself, but so many people knew and adored Trigger that I feel constrained to post of her passing.  She was a wonderful friend, dog, and member of my family.  She will be sorely missed and never forgotten.

Mortality

A boy and a girl met.  Fell in love...got married.  "Let's have a baby!"

It wasn't that easy.

And one time the boy held the girl, as she cried and they looked at yet another failed pregnancy test. The girl decided..."I need something to love and mother.  Today. Tonight."  So they went to a friend who had a litter of kittens.  They narrowed it down to two: the runt, and bigger, stronger, beautiful boy.  The girl said, "maybe we should get the runt because no one will want to take him.  "No, we'll take the big boy," said the boy.

It was the right decision.

He was beautiful, cuddly, strong, and too young, really, to leave his cat-mom.  So, he made the girl-mom his mom.

He slept on her shoulder, purred in her hair, licked her nose.  He gave her something to mother.

And mother she did.

For a long

long

long

time.

And the boy and the girl moved.  And they graduated from law school.  And they moved again.  And they got jobs.  And they remodeled their house. And all that time, they loved their cat...and took lots of pictures of him (apparently before they got a digital camera).

He was an accomplished cat:

   

   

He got a live-in girlfriend...

  

but he still loved his mama and papa the best.

  

Years passed and the girl finally got pregnant with a real-live human baby.  She was so excited.  But that baby died.  And the girl held her cat (her first baby) and cried into his fur.  And loved him some more.

  

And then the girl got pregnant again.  This time the baby lived.  And as the time drew close for the baby to arrive she worried..."What if I don't love this baby as much as my cat?"  Of course she did, and then some.  But she still loved the cat.  And he loved her...and the baby.

And boy and the girl again waited for another human baby.

For a long

long

time.

And finally the girl got pregnant again.  This time she didn't worry that she wouldn't love the baby as much as the cat.  She worried the next baby would be allergic to cats.  Thankfully the baby wasn't.  And the girl loved the new baby, and the cat.  And the cat loved her and the oldest baby, and the new baby too  (or at least resigned himself to the fact that this was how it was going to be).

Then one day, just as the new baby was beginning to move about proficiently, the old cat began to move

even

less.

...And he kind of limped.  And the girl thought, "He is just old, or...maybe he is dying.  But he can't be dying, he is only 11 years old.  Aren't cats supposed to live until they are like 20, or something?"

Well, he didn't.

He didn't even live through the weekend.

And when the boy and the girl and the older baby and the new baby came home from the beach, the boy held the girl, as she cried, and they looked at the freshly turned dirt in their strawberry patch where a kind neighbor had planted him.  

And the girl decided that she had loved and mothered. 

And even though it hurt, it was the right decision.  

We'll miss you, our big buddy boy,Weasel.

Named, Blessed, & Bounced

We are Latter-saints (LDS, Mormons) (just in case you haven't caught that...I've probably mentioned it a few times)...and Latter-day Saints "bless and name" their babies. It's not a baptism or christening (baptism is performed later when a child turns 8), but it is nevertheless a significant event.

Because Andy has been ordained as a priesthood holder, he is authorized to perform the blessing. So, for little Emers, as with Evan, Andy had the privilege of giving Emerson a name and a blessing. He invited family members and a few friends, who are also worthy priesthood holders, to participate in the blessing. And the blessing was performed in our sacrament service this last month.

Evan was super excited (as you can imagine) to see Eme get "bounced." Having seen a few babies' blessings, Evan has picked up on the fact that the fathers often gently bounce the baby as they pronounce the blessing to subside any possible crying. Eme was fine; no crying, and apparently awake and attentive the entire time. Evan was paying close attention too because during the blessing she would periodically gasp and with wide eyes would exclaim some portion of the blessing that she understood. "Papa said,"mend broken hearts!'" Needless to say I am glad it was written down because I missed alot of it.

It was a wonderful occasion, a wonderful blessing, and a sobering opportunity to ponder on all of the events and opportunities that Emerson will face in her life. As her mother, it already had me thinking of future significant white dresses she will yet wear. (*sigh+ a little tear*) It is happily humbling to think that she has the Gospel of Jesus Christ to help her through this life, come what may.

with Grandma & Grandpa

Proof that the day had a fairy-tale ending.

Why this blog is neglected...

I've got my hands full, people.

Here is "being a big sister" according to Evan:

"Hey mom, look! We both fit."

"I promise I didn't wake her up."

"tummy time?"

"I have an idea..."

"That was fun, wasn't it?!?"

"We're ready for church..."

"Are you crying?"

"I'll take care of that...forever."

"How did you expect to NOT climb in it mom?"

"I'm not sharing."

"Go to sleep Eme."

"I give up."