Dear Betsey
A letter to my rescue girl
When my rescue Kona passed, it wasn’t a surprise. I had been preparing for months by cancelling plans/vacations/attending a wedding so I could be there as much as possible. I carry so much guilt with each of my dogs passing that I thought I could avoid adding to it. And then finally it came. She was clearly at the tail end of her battle with degenerative myelopathy and telling me with her eyes it was time. A few days after letting her go I wrote her a letter of all the things I felt I forgot to say. It was a heartbreaking, cathartic release I didn’t know how much I needed.
The other day my son the Intern was doing something he shouldn’t. It was dangerous and I yelled immediately to get him to stop. A quick yell. Danger averted. No big deal I thought. My current Management, Betsey immediately ran out of the room and into the bedroom. When I went in to check on her, she was shaking. This isn’t the first time she has reacted like this.
I can’t ask her what is going on. Well, I can but I’m not at the point in my life where the dog answers me back. So I decided to write her a letter now. Instead of waiting. So here it is…
“Dear Betsey,
You hold more pain in your eyes then any dog I’ve ever had. I don’t know your whole story. I don’t know if you miss him. If he told you goodbye. If you watched him do it. How many days did you wait for help? Were you scared when it came? Sometimes you cower when I yell at the TV and I wonder if he yelled at you. When you flinch like I’m going to hit you instead of pet you I wonder if he hit you. Was he so miserable that he was miserable to you? Do you miss him? Are you going to wait for him at the Rainbow Bridge? I have had a little over a year with you now. He had ten or so. How many of those years were good to you? The best decision he ever made was not taking you with him and for that I am grateful.
I just want to take away the pain in your eyes. Your fear. Whatever it is holding you back from fully being comfortable in the last home you will ever know.
I will never hurt you.
I will love you with all my heart till the day I have to let you go, and then I will keep loving you till I see you again. I will honor you the way I do all my dogs: contributing artwork to rescues for fundraising. So more dogs like you find a safe, soft spot to land when your world comes crashing down.
Until then, I plan to show you how much you mean to me. To this family that is now yours. One walk at a time. Smothered in love, kisses and snuggles in a warm bed with the occasional burger and all the adventures in the car you can handle with that wonky tail of yours wagging.
I will never hurt you, my stinky girl who loves to:
give kisses
bark at the fence
hunt the neighbors cat
say hi to everyone on our walks (unless it’s a dog, cause then you try to eat them)
running in the snow
laying in your bed with the Intern
eating anything that is not dog food
licking the faces of small children
putting your head out the car window
long naps on the couch
I will never hurt you.
I pinky promise.
Love Always,
Mom
p.s. you have the smelliest farts ever. I just want that on the record.”
I'm not crying, you're crying 🥹