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On Second Thought

Subhead
Skippy jars, yogurt cups and dirty socks … life isn’t the same without Ginger
Lead Summary
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By
lori sorenson, editor

I scraped the last of the peanut butter from the bottom of a Skippy jar last week and thought about our golden retriever.
It was Ginger’s job to lick the peanut butter and yogurt containers before they hit the recycle bin.
I can still see her — the picture of contentment. She’d wrap her front paws around the Skippy jar and plunge her nose deep into the jar so her tongue could reach the edges, tail wagging happily behind her.
It’s a happy memory.
Ginger met her demise on the busy highway near our home on Sept. 7, and in the days and weeks since then, her absence has been noticed.
Mostly, there’s the absence of the work associated with having a dog.
… vacuuming pet hair dust bunnies, maintaining food and water supplies and mopping up routine messes that come with muddy paws and sometimes sensitive stomachs.
These are the things noticed by moms, who have been known to talk about what life might be like — how much easier life would be — without pets.
Those words have been uttered by the mom in our house. More than once.
But as it turns out, the mom in our house seems to miss the dog the most.
Mom lost her running buddy, the happy greeter at the door and foot warmer by the couch.
There’s no longer a “kitchen helper” waiting in the middle of the floor for a morsel to drop from the counter.
The cat (who’s been mysteriously affectionate without her housemate) no longer has a playful tormenter and archenemy.
There’s no longer a hyper alert storm watcher to whine and cower at human feet long before the first clap of thunder.
There’s no more hiding shoes that might get chewed on, or socks that might get “stolen” to provoke a chase.
There’s no more planning schedules around somebody being home at some point in the day to let the dog out.
There’s no longer someone to talk to when all the humans are gone. (The cat is not a good listener.)
As the mom in the house, I won’t say I miss having a dog and all the work that comes with it, but there’s no denying I miss the dog — for good and bad reasons.
The fact that I miss Ginger should in no way be construed to mean I want a puppy, so please don’t inundate my email with information about fur balls that need adopting.
But the fact that we no longer have a dog means we at one time had a dog. It means we were blessed to experience the unconditional love and companionship that only a loyal family canine can offer.
And if we no longer have a dog in our house, it means we have her in our hearts where we hold all memories dear.
It means we — as all dog lovers believe — expect to see Ginger in heaven someday … licking a Skippy jar or running off with a dirty sock.
… Tail wagging happily behind her.

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