Mia's Journey

If an unfortunate dog or cat was so fortunate to be “dumped” in the vicinity of Cedar Lane and 60th Avenue, they found themselves close to a heaven on earth.

Many of the beloved pets I recall came to my family’s care that way. There was the fluffy feline brothers, Milo and Gizmo; German shepherd mix Molly, the yellow dog Leroy; Staunton and Virginia (named after my favorite country group, The Statler Brothers, hometown); Spook, a gray cat with a mustache and a broken leg; and RD, short for Red Dog who arrived in our front yard covered in mange we still believe was part coyote, so ill the wind blew her over.

These “strays” lovingly mixed with other rescued or purchased on the cheap pups that hold extremely special places in my family’s hearts today: my first best friend Bingo, Mindy the Mean Dog, Jake and Max (boxer father/son), Newt Dobbs (my first child), George Bailey (given to Mom one Christmas), Mollie (our jack russell terrier that trenched to cable lines in our backyard regularly “cutting the cable” to our neighbors so she went to live at Nana and Papa’s), BC (short for Black Cat, but one of the sweetest of them all), Little Orphan Annie, and three generations of bird dogs named Sam, to name only a few.

Nine years ago this month, my parents woke up to the most unusual “dump.” A lively, but timid rat terrier had been deposited into their fenced backyard. They spent the first couple weeks trying to find her a new home, but the pup and Molly (our re-homed jack russell) fell instantly into sisterly love and my parents, my dad especially, were close behind.

Mia was home.

Known simply as, “The Girls,” Molly and Mia were tolerated by the old man Bailey. They were hell on anything not of a domestic nature that came into “their” backyard, slept in my parent’s bed, had a plethora of toys, enjoyed licking bowls of ice cream clean, donned cute dresses every so often, and traveled quite often. Our dog, (Little Orphan) Annie, was always excited when they came to visit too.

Unfortunately, our lives took a dramatic shift with my husband’s brain cancer diagnosis a few months after Mia came into our lives. The “terminal” nature of glioblastoma accelerated my parents plans to move to Edmond to be closer to my family, subsequently, closer to David’s family in Stillwater. They bought a home they didn’t move into for more than a year because by Christmas 2014, the decision was made for mom to live with us to help with round-the-clock care, while dad drove back and forth from the house in Norman caring for my dear Memaw who was starting to suffer from dementia.

The details of those days are a blur. Bailey was old and struggling with a painful skin condition. My parents made the gut-wrenching decision to let him go. Molly experienced liver failure and died within a few days.

Mia become my dad’s constant companion.

After we lost Mike, my parents hastened their move from the home that had been the center of our world for 40 years to Edmond. To say it was an adjustment, is an understatement. Mia instinctively new how to help them adjust and make friends. She required a lot of walking now that the fenced yard was gone. Her easy-going personality ingratiated she and Dad into the neighborhood dog walkers, and thus, neighbors.

Robert brought four of his own rescues into our lives, as his late-wife Jami was an animal lover as well, and Mia took the post of teaching them the rules of living in her world. She bonded immediately with Robert’s favorite, a papillon named Diamon Marie. There were “sleepovers” and a lot of snuggling as both girls became the apple of his eye too.

Mia went everywhere with Dad and wrapped him right around her tiny little paws. Honestly, she wrapped us all up. I joked on many occasions that she unseated me from favorite (only) daughter status. Mom would say, “I think he loves Mia more than he loves me.” But Mom loved Mia just as fierce.

As you notice in a recent family photo, Mia being held like a baby in the center. That has been her place.

Although we often joked about Mia’s status in his life, she was as beloved by us all for the way she loved dad, the comfort and laughter she brought us all through some terrible days, and the tenacity in which she lived her life.

I recently watched a movie called, “A Dog’s Journey.” The notion that the soul of a dog doesn’t “cross the rainbow bridge,” until its’ owner does, but instead keeps coming back to us in different forms over the years, loyal to us, protecting our kids, loving us… well, it just changes my perspective.

If you know my dad, you know he loves deeply and will be the last to let go of hope. Yesterday morning, Mom and Dad made the excruciating and loving decision to give Mia peace. Her enlarged heart had grown to put too much pressure on her trachea to be comfortable.

While my kids and I sat with my parents yesterday afternoon as they grieved, we talked about all the dogs and cats that have been an important part of our lives over the years. Talking about them brought smiles and some laughter.

I believe Mia’s journey continues, even as we will miss her in the coming days and weeks. And I can’t wait to see the form Mia’s soul bounds into to come back and continue her journey with us.