This summer’s traumatic loss of Millie led me to a place I didn’t think I’d find myself â€“ grappling with the notion of “replacing the loss” which up until Millie grief took over, I never thought I would succumb to. “Replacing the Loss” had been one of those warnings I read about in the grief books I picked up after Arron died, a warning that particularly applied to pets, though at the time I read it as applying to head husbands and was sort of appalled. “Allow yourself time to grieve,” they said, and “don’t try and replace your loss.” Um. Duh.
But I ignored the warnings. Just 6 weeks after Millie’s death, Chloe became a part of our lives.
I was nervous about her from the beginning. I could tell she was going to be a much more rambunctious dog than Millie, and a big part of what I missed about Millie was her cuddleability. She was totally mellow. This puppy was not. She was a little demon. I knew a lot of it had to do with the fact that she was only 10 weeks old when we got her.
It was immediately obvious that she would not be able to sleep in the bed. Where Millie had been a sweet little ball curled up behind the knees, Chloe was a flopster who liked to lie on her side, legs akimbo. She liked to lie on hair. And lick. Places that one doesn’t want licked by a dog. She quickly learned to sleep in the crate.
Toilet training was also new territory. Boston females are notoriously bad for not getting the whole potty thing. That’s been a very slow process, but I’m finally seeing some progress.
Many times, I have wavered on whether or not I made the right decision in getting a new dog so quickly. I probably wasn’t ready. I continued to mourn Millie and having a dog so different made the negative comparisons a little too easy. I even had a chat with Millie’s breeder who commiserated and suggested I call Chloe’s breeder and talk with her about it. But what would that result in? Giving Chloe back?
I contemplated the idea over a weekend, sort of, but I knew it wasn’t something I could do. I would forever feel guilty. The kids quickly agreed.
And the funny thing was, that after going through that thought process, I finally woke up to Chloe’s charms. She is pure dog (where Millie was something more akin to cat/human). She’s independent. She loves her toys which cover the living room floor. She plays fetch and can actually hold a tennis ball as big as her head in her mouth.
Chloe Makes Hulk ANGRY!Â (Video)
It’s taken a while to get Millie out of my system, but Chloe and I have fallen into our little routines. She now gets a little pre-crate bed time where she tucks herself under my arm and snores. When she gets too loud, I carry her little floppy body over to the crate and she settles into her noisy slumber. She is learning to walk on my left side and acts like she owns the neighbourhood with her confident little stride. She still goes ballistic when she meets both people and other dogs, but hopefully that will mellow out over time.
As I write this, she is asleep in my lap, on her side, legs flopped down around my knees. I’ll have to catch her when she tries to roll over which will make me laugh. OK, I’ll admit to a case of puppy love.