Move West, Young Woman

After Gizmo’s death, things grew increasingly colder in my relationship. I hate to think he and Tiki were the only things holding us together, but when she passed away a little while after, I knew it was true. Looking back with completely open eyes, I know our time together would not have lasted as long if we didn’t have those two, sweet souls living with us. I know Gizmo’s death hit him hard. I had to convince him that it was time to let go when we did. I loved that sweet, old pooch so much, but I couldn’t bear to see him waste away anymore and I finally put my foot down and demanded that we help him leave this life with dignity. Euthanasia is never an easy choice; however, watching your devoted pet, who will try to last as long as they can only for you, lose their abilities and slowly become a shell of the noble and wonderful being they once were is selfish, in my opinion. My boyfriend didn’t believe in ending a pet’s life and I had to convince him that he was only thinking of himself and not of what was best for Gizmo. I think he resented me for doing that, yet I also think he knew I was right. At eighteen, Gizmo would never regain the energy or vitality he once had. It was time to let go. And it was time for me to move on.

Not knowing what I would do next, I made a difficult decision and moved back to Michigan and in with my mother. And again, my life was surrounded by furry friends. My mother had two American Eskimos, Puffin & Kita. Fluffy, white balls of bark, they may have looked alike, but they had two very distinct personalities. Puffin, though smaller than Kita, was top dog. That’s not to say Kita was a pushover by any means, but when it came down to it she would defer to what Puffin wished. It was always fun to watch those two race around the house and out into the back yard.

After nearly a year and a half, my wanderlust kicked in and I felt I needed to do the one thing I had dreamed of doing for over three decades, move to California. I packed everything I could into my two-door Honda Civic and drove cross-country, keeping myself entertained and awake by singing songs from Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar at the top of my lungs. It wasn’t completely smooth sailing. At one point, as I drove across the vast wasteland (aka The Big Basin) of Northern Nevada, I began to cry and couldn’t stop for miles. It could have been the long stretch of endless highway in front of me, but I like to think it’s because I didn’t have the comfort of the canine variety sitting in the seat next to me. For that pleasure was still several years away.