My soon-to-be ex--let's call him B--would probably tell you that our two dogs caused the breakup of our marriage. And I would disagree with him wholeheartedly. Those dogs--Bismarck, a happy-go-lucky golden retriever/border collie mix, and Buster, the fierce-looking pit bull/boxer mix with more bark than bite--were the loves of my life. My world revolved around those two puppies. Jogs around the neighborhood, snuggles at night, expeditions to summer activities in Piedmont Park--those were the things that grounded me, that made me feel safe and loved. I fell asleep many a night clinging to one or both of them, shedding tears for a sadness, a longing I had yet to name.
And much like many couples in a troubled marriage, the kids kept us together. When we stopped talking about the important things--money, dreams, fears, our deepest thoughts--we had the dogs. They were the tenuous glue that held our marriage together, especially when it became clear that the dogs--along with a shared bank account--were all that we had left in common.
It took me nearly a year to find the courage not only to leave my husband, but to leave my "children." I still feel like a horrible mother for abandoning them. I've spent many nights crying myself to sleep, missing their hugs, their kisses, their silly little faces and mannerisms. No matter how many times I've told them that their mommy loves them, it still breaks my heart to know that I can't see them every day, and even when I do, it will never be the same, and I will be reminded of the life I left behind.
But they are together and happy and well-loved. If only I could find utter contentment with a yard to play in, a roof over my head and an endless supply of kibble.
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