On Sugar, and a little Marshmallow

Part of what keeps me writing this blog is recording our family history. Over seven years of big things happening in the HaluHalo residence are all on this screen, with pictures, and it's priceless.  

When I first started blogging, people used to ask me if I mentioned every mundane thing that had happened in our lives. And no, of course I don't. Despite my online presence over the years, I'm actually a pretty private person, especially when it comes to loss. It's hidden behind two sets of locks in my heart. 

Thus, I never wrote about losing our Sugar. (Some posts about her here.)

She was only seven, and it was sudden, from bloat and a twisted stomach last September. It was right out of the movie Marley and Me: I found my pup in the furthermost, darkest corner of our basement (she hated that room in the basement). But by the time we got her to surgery, it was too late. 

We cried days. We were sad for weeks.

When you grow your family with a dog, it is vast without one. You'd think that with four children, my plate would be full. But Sugar never demanded space on my plate.  She was right under it, tongue wagging, ready for any scrap that tumbled out. She was perfectly happy being there for her family--her pack. Her love was unconditional.  

Through November, I didn't think I could have another dog. Though my kids begged for one, I was still sad, and nervous. Could I do this again, I asked myself. As a family, we researched the different breeds and we scrolled through breeder and rescue sites. Still, I wasn't convinced.

 That is, until I met this sweet Havanese, whom Baby J aptly named Marshmallow.

She was named even before I agreed she would be ours. But I can't lie, I was smitten. It must have been the sweet of her name, coming through those eyes. Or maybe it was the message it sent me. That she wasn't Sugar. But she'd love us just as much. 

Truthfully, it didn't take me much longer to say yes, much of it because I couldn't bear for her to be taken from my arms (at the time we met, she still had a few weeks to grow). I knew then...just knew it. I'd love her so much too.

And I am now back to being a fur-infant mom. Then again, when does mothering ever stop? 

 

So, welcome home, Marshmallow. We've been waiting for you.