Goodbye, Hazel

This summer was a time of learning for me. Learning to say goodbye to my childhood home. Learning to be patient with healing after I fell and broke seven bones in my face. Learning to reappraise my home situation and say goodbye to one of my canine companions. I will be honest from the onset. Three dogs are a lot to handle. When my daughter came home with a fourth, an English bulldog puppy, I knew we were in way over our heads, even though she plans to take Henry back to Baldwin Wallace when the semester begins later this month. Nonetheless, my injury was a wake-up call to the reality of living in close confines with three dogs of my own. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Since my daughter’s childhood dog is nearing her 13th birthday, I knew Hailey could not adjust to new surroundings. Finnigan, who I adopted two years ago as an abuse case, is also too fragile to part with. That left Hazel, my 7- year- old standard poodle. I began making inquiries about possible adoptive homes. In all, I interviewed four couples. One had a young child that I was concerned about, since Hazel has never experienced living with a baby. The next two couples were uncertain. That’s when I connected with Oliver’s parents, also a standard poodle, five years old, with gorgeous coal black hair. With their hiking and cross-country skiing background, not to mention weekends at the lake, I knew this family was a perfect fit for my active dog. We went for a morning walk last Saturday, Hazel and Oliver included. Hazel played patty cake on command and walked on the lead like a well-trained dog, which she is. I could tell that Oliver’s mom was falling in love with Hazel, but it still wasn’t easy. So I showed my new friends photos of my face from when I fell, how bruised and battered I looked. They understood my dilemma. I asked them to follow me to my house to get Hazel’s bed and some of her food. And then I knelt before her and told her how much I always loved her. I asked her to forgive me for giving her to someone else. I kissed her gray/black forehead and promised that I would never forget her. The next day I received a photo of Hazel playing at the lake with her new human family, actually boarding on the lake with her new mom. The text said that she and Oliver were already good friends. I was ecstatic. It was then that I remembered that sometimes, when we truly love, we need to let go. That’s another lesson I learned this summer. Farewell, friend. Until we meet again….