Balance. Life on this Earth demands it. Whether it’s balance between work and home life, balance of mood and emotion, or even balancing the checkbook!

There must be balance.

And the balance to life, is death. It’s a difficult thing no matter what way you look at it. We all must experience it, secondhand, and someday, firsthand.

And, oddly enough, that balance brings joy. Joy in the small moments, and the big.

This post started out as a memorial to our dear, departed dog. Then, the week took a turn for the worse. It’s been a week full of tears, both happy and sad.

Bear with me as I lay out the week for you.

Saturday just before noon

Brett left for town to pick up my in-laws dog at the kennel and deliver him to their house. While in town, his Dad calls to tell me his Grandpa has been in an accident. On his way home from a morning at the family farm, Grandpa Ed rolled his Ford Explorer twice. He landed upright, and emergency personnel were able to get him out safely and transport him to the hospital. Brett headed for the hospital to sit in the waiting room with some of the family as we awaited an update on his status.

Saturday just after noon

I notice that our dog, Squirt is not acting quite right. He’s started to limp and his leg seems to be swelling before my eyes. He’s been sick since April of 2017, so roughly a year and a half, and we know that he won’t live forever. I contacted the vet who’s able to get us some pain medication and antibiotic, so Brett runs to the vet clinic to get the meds.

As he’s leaving the hospital for the vet he learns that his Grandpa suffered a broken neck during the accident. They plan to fly him from our hometown to Topeka, KS where there’s a spine specialist. He undergoes surgery Saturday night on his arm, which also sustained serious injury.

Sunday morning

We wake up a little later than usual to a dog with a still swollen leg, and a more pronounced limp. We feel very strongly that he’s weakening, so we skip church to make breakfast and share our bacon and eggs with him before cleaning up the house a bit and doing some laundry.

Sunday afternoon

We visit Brett’s Grandpa in the hospital in Topeka. We sit for an hour and chat with him about the usual life updates. It’s a tradition to join his Grandparents for lunch at the local diner following church.

The conversation turns a little deeper than usual and we discuss his philosophy on prayer as well as his feelings regarding the structure of the church. Not necessarily our physical church, but the church that’s defined as a community of people. Brett and I are always blown away at the depth of knowledge his Grandpa has, and the conversation Sunday did not disappoint. We bid our goodbyes and departed so he could rest.

Sunday evening

Squirt is unchanged physically, but refuses popcorn. His daily desired 10pm snack is popcorn, so I think this was the turning point for us. We knew the week was probably not going to end well, but we still held out some hope.

Monday

Brett and I spend the day traveling for work. Our wonderful neighbors, Bill and Vannessa, come down to check on Squirt for us so we don’t have to worry. We return home after a long day on the road and Squirt will not eat, but otherwise is in good spirits.

My father-in-law, Tom, lets us know that Grandpa is still well. He had several visitors during the day and had a “good” day.

Tuesday morning

We wake up and Squirt’s attitude has totally changed. He’s barely able to go outside, won’t touch his food, refuses to take his pills wrapped in lunchmeat, and barely wags his tail. We make a very tough decision and then also make arrangements to go to work to get a few things done before the vet makes a much appreciated house call. We know we won’t be able to return to work, and cancel afternoon appointments accordingly.

Tuesday around noon

The vet arrives and we tell our beloved dog goodbye. The rest of the day passes in a very slow blur. We spend a few hours at my sister’s playing with her litter of kittens. New life has a way of making the pain of death hurt just a little less and I always seem to seek out children and babies during tough times.

Wednesday

Brett and I are traveling for work again. It’s a good day despite the fact that we’re aching with the loss of our furry friend. We come home at the end of the day to an empty, quiet house. Going to bed is hard, and sleep comes even harder.

Thursday morning

The phone rings at 7am. There’s a pit in my stomach knowing that a phone call this early in the day cannot be good. Tom is on the phone and Brett talks to him a few moments before hanging up in tears.

It turns out, Grandpa woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, but as the nurse helped him back to bed he suffered a massive heart attack.

We’re still reeling from the shock, and I don’t seem to have the words to recall the details of the day.

I know a few things…

Brett’s family is strong. Strong in faith, and hope, and in love.

Brett’s Grandpa was beloved by all. So many people in our community looked up to him, saw him as a mentor, or benefitted from his kindness at some point. I know the wonderful stories have only just begun.

And Brett’s Grandma has handled it all with a calm and gentle kindness. She’s a rock. And she’s just as much a pillar of the family as her husband was.

Thursday night

Around 5, my sister sends me a screenshot from Facebook. There was a missing dog down here on the creek, and she wanted us to keep an eye out for him. We just couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else being without their beloved pet this week. We had to drive up to a neighbor’s house to pick something up, and as we left the dog’s owner stopped by to find out if we’d seen the dog. We took his name and number and left.

Thirty minutes later we’re headed back home and I’m praying the dog will just come up out of a ditch and greet us. As we drive I’m watching the sides of the road and scanning the trees. I know it’s a long-shot, but I watch and try to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach knowing it’s not likely the dog will be returned to his owners.

In the last week our neighbors, two houses up the road, moved out. The house is for sale, but now sits empty. I turn to look at the house as we pass by, and my eye catches on a large, dark mass on the porch. I yell for Brett to stop, so we back up and turn into the drive. As we pull up to the house I holler “DIESEL!” out the window, and a large, chocolate lab comes bounding off the porch. Brett stops the truck and we both jump out and throw our arms around a wet, smelly dog who’s clearly been swimming in the creek.  He’s so happy to see people!

Since cell phone reception down here is spotty, we load the lab up and head home.

Words cannot express the joy I felt getting to tell Ray and Michelle their beloved dog was found. The reunion was happy. There were hugs, and tears by all.

As I ready for bed…

Even with the pain of knowing we’ll never come home to our fur baby again, we rejoice that God gave us this little, joy-filled moment to balance out the overwhelming sadness of the week.

We’ll sleep easy tonight knowing that the neighbors have their dog back, and knowing that Squirt was waiting to greet Grandpa Ed at the “farm” in Heaven. We suspect that God needed Squirt to come home first, because he couldn’t possibly welcome Ed home without him.

Posts about Squirt and Grandpa Ed still to come. Goodnight friends.