Almost paradise.

My apologies.
I know that things have been quiet around these parts.
While I may have been absent outwardly, 
 rest assured that I’ve been a good blogging squirrel,
gathering seeds and hoarding stories and collecting photos of my baby, bee-lining towards sparkly shoes, to share with you.
But, the truth is, it’s been a hard week.
And it’s a long story.
But the short story is this:
This week, I was quiet because I was, quite literally, at a loss for words…
Because this week, I had to hold my big dog in one arm, and my little girl in the other arm, and tell my big dog to give my little girl a kiss, and tell my little girl to give my big dog a kiss….
and then I had to tell them to say goodbye to one another.
This week, we had to let go of our Ziggy.
And I can’t really write more now,
I just can’t.
And while I’m not usually a fan of the ellipsis,
there is so much that I want to pour out from my insides, but the only thing I can muster are these three dots. And in these three dots are the story of my little boy,
who came to me with a tongue too big for his mouth, and feet too big for his stature,
and a heart too big for his body.
And the story of how, on the first morning we got him, he played with his metal food bowl, clanking that thing around the kitchen, until the walls jingled and jangled around us…
how on that first morning, we thought we had found our boy his forever home, having rescued him, in every sense of the word.
And the jingling and the jangling only continued,
as our Z boy made noise as he barked and bellowed,
as he stomped and tromped,
and as he loved big.
As big as his paws.
As big as his heart.

Everything about Ziggy has always been supersized, and although that was so often a good thing, and so much of what made him so lovable,
his fear ultimately got the better of him.
Big fear.
And this summer, when he began to snap at our little Lola, we took it very seriously. We took it as a warning. And we worked hard. But as his anxieties got worse, so did his aggression, as he would snap at other dogs on walks, and pounce on Lola, viciously, for scraps of food or a turn with a toy. And soon, Lola got no more scraps and no more turns. And she got injured. And we got worried. But we worked harder.
And then, last week, our worst fears came true. He snapped at our daughter. While we have always known how much our Zig loves our little bee, we also know that his fear has gotten out of control. Perhaps it is from the scars of his former life. Perhaps he has reached his sexual maturity. Perhaps his wires are crossed the wrong way.
But all speculations aside, we knew what we had to do. We had to protect our family and, most of all, our daughter.
And so, with the advice of our vet, family and friends, we surrendered Ziggy back to the rescue home from which we got him, 2 1/2 years ago.
And typing those words, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

On the last morning we had him, Ziggy played with his metal food bowl. The walls jingled and jangled around us. My heart wept.
As we said goodbye to him, we told him how much we loved him, how much he has meant to us–will always mean to us–and how quiet our lives will be without him.
My husband and I sat on the floor, holding our big boy in our arms, and we melted into a deluge of tears, wishing that there was some other way, but knowing that there was not.
The rescue organization will be working hard to find him a new home, and is confident that they will place him soon, with a family without young children or other animals. He is an incredible, cute, wonderful dog, who will thrive in the right home. We just wish that home could be ours.*
So, our lives have been quieter.
And I have been quieter.
And now that I’ve found some of my words, I’m hopeful that the first leg of the grieving process has begun…and ended.
And now is a good time for us to start fresh, as tomorrow, we embark upon a rather exciting chapter in our lives,
Baby’s first vacation.
And we are going back to our most treasured spot; our happy place; our Paradise.
And while we are there we will be surrounded with sun and love,
and reminisce about our engagement there, in that very room, five years ago this week
(The Proposal, Part Une
The Proposal, Part Deux
The Proposal, Part Trois
The Proposal, Part Quatre
The Proposal, Part Forever)
And we will draw lines in the sand with our toes
and we will listen to the sea
and it will be quiet.
And I will miss our boy.
Our boy who is never quiet, and who is always loved.
*If you, or anyone you know, is interested in helping us to find the perfect forever home for our Ziggy, please email me at, or contact the fabulous rescue organization directly Here. Much love and noise and thanks xx Becca

  • Heather (One Take On Life)
    December 11, 2011

    So sorry you had to give him back to the rescue place.
    When my son was a couple months old we had to give our mixed Pekinesse to a rescue shelter. We adopted her from the humane society when she was 2 or 3 years old. She didn’t show her true self for 6 months and then she started to bite first and think later. I think her wires had gotten crossed in previous home. We hated giving her away, it was awful. But we knew we couldn’t trust her around our son. So I feel for you, really it is gut wrenching to make that decision.

    • mommyeverafter
      December 23, 2011

      Thank you so much for sharing your story and for making me feel so much better. It means the world to me (to us!)

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