Beloved Friend

When we decided to get married, Josh and I were trying to figure out where to live. I wanted to live in Michigan, Josh couldn't leave the surf just yet. The proposition was to start our journey in California for six months, then move to Michigan to eventually start a family. Being an hour away from one of the most exciting cities appealed to me; the historical town of Redlands surrounded by mountains and year-long warm weather sealed the deal.



We got married in December, and a cold one at that. My excitement only grew towards the adventure awaiting. We returned from our honeymoon cruise, and as I was packing up, only then did I start to think about the reality of moving away. I was leaving everything I knew. My church family that I loved, the investment banking job and close colleague that I had worked with for 2 years, the university life of books and classes, my parent's home, my two younger brothers. Tearfully, I said goodbye, the full impact of leaving felt, but not necessarily understood.



The first month was spent with little furniture in an apartment filled with Josh's shoes. And by that I mean they were everywhere. I opened kitchen cupboards to socks and shoes, each closet held boxes of the treasured footwear; I went outside to the storage area. You guessed it, more shoe boxes. There were size 14 Jordan's everywhere.



I say this to set the scene, not because I was unhappy. Some of those dinners eaten on the cardboard kitchen table comprise my fondest memories. Hindsight usually lends itself to fondness, but vivid memories of walking to the grocery store each day to buy groceries (I did not have a car, so I could only buy enough for the day), making supper, and figuring out what married life was about. It was only in the evening, while lying in bed, did the loneliness creep in. I would lay there and imagine my parents playing cards around the kitchen table, visiting my grandparents, or eating ice cream at Frostys. Days turned into minutes ticking by on the clock, wondering how much longer it would be before I got to come back and visit.



And visit I did. Any chance I got. (Tia had 30,000 frequent flyer miles by the time she was 4)



Upon living there a few months, I was still struggling to adjust. If I am honest, I was lonely overall. It was hard to make new friends. Josh had lived there for a few years before I moved out there, so at first I felt like I was moving into his life instead of creating our own. We kept busy, but my lack of both a social life or an outlet to find friends left me really craving home. We joined a church we liked, but couldn't find a small group to connect with. My co-workers were nice, but office politics left me out most days.



We had a little poodle as I grew up, so Josh and I both thought a dog might ease the quietness of our apartment. I searched around, and found little Tia from a breeder who weighed in around 400 pounds, surrounded by teeny teacup poodles. The place smelled of disinfectant mixed with wet dog, but I visited Tia often until she was ready to come home. "Johnny's Angel, white with the apricot ears" was how he called back for them to bring her up for our visits. She weighed in at one pound, and pictures of her lined my desk at work before I could even call her mine.

She came home on a weekend, and we spent every last minute playing with her. She was not set down, except for a walk where her little legs worked overtime to keep up with Josh's long pace. She brought a lot of joy to our house, calmed the quiet. Each day, I literally raced home to see her, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook.



Today, Josh had to take Tia to be put down. She had been sick for a while, anyone who has ever seen her knew that today was inevitable. Arthritis deformed her front paws, and we tried multiple things to correct it to no avail. Still, it is hard to say goodbye to a loyal companion. And oh, what a companion she was. My only friend for a while there.






After Josh came home today, we were explaining to Kayden that we had to say goodbye to Tia, and that she was in heaven. In reality, she was taken to a pet cemetery named Sleepy Hollow where her ashes will be spread over the grounds. Tonight we wanted to take a bike ride to get out of the house because we all were feeling a little down. We looked up a trail and decided to park right off the beaten path, at what we both thought was a human cemetery. Sure enough, it ended up being Sleepy Hollow. We got out of the car in confusion and I asked Josh if this was where Tia was.


Kayden looked at me innocently. "Is this Heaven?", he asked.


I guess some things need better explaining.


Anyway, as today draws to a close and something in the house seems oddly out of place, we know will all miss Tia greatly. Carmelo (the black dog) most of all.