All the feels

Writers are famous for dragging their characters through the worst drama imaginable and then some. In The Lord of the Rings, for example, Frodo survives attacks from goblins, trolls, a balrog, fiery demons, orcs, and ultimately, the One Ring itself draining his lifeforce. But it’s not the battles that make the reader cheer for Frodo. The small, humble hobbit embodies unmatched loyalty, bravery, and strength in the face of impossible odds. The hobbit’s grueling struggles absorb readers to the point where their hearts race right alongside Frodo's.

Ever wonder where writers pull out the emotions that fuel their characters’ dread, outrage, anxiety, joy, or horror? Authors dig deep into their own life experiences and dredge up all those feelings to channel onto the page and yes, it can make them tremble, cringe, transcend and even ugly cry. In a way, being able to pour one's grief and hope into a story can be cathartic. So here goes some author therapy in a true story about an Irish Wolfhound named Erynn.

When Erynn came to her forever home as a two-month-old puppy, she was already the size of an Australian Shepherd. Her massive paws meant she’d be growing a lot more before her first birthday. Giant breeds be like that.

Early on she’d get tangled in her too big feet and stumble around like a drunken sailor even without a pint from her ancestral homeland. Maybe that’s what made her so afraid of the stairs, and her human papa had to scoop her up and carry her to bed each night. She still managed to romp in her first snow, diving into the white, fluffy stuff with a black nose trimmed in frost.

Her stubborn side showed up right away when she refused to respond to Erynn and instead insisted on the nickname Rynn before she’d pay any mind. And her habit of yanking the leash away on the trails and chasing after a buck five times her size gave her human mom heart attacks on a regular basis. After she tore up her puppy bed, she'd rather sleep on the hard, wood floor than try out a plush, new dog bed. Guess who won that one?

She loved the shower until she got lathered in shampoo. After that, she dreaded baths as much as the vet and always resembled a downtrodden, drowned rat peeking out from the towel. She’d jump at the chance to undo the wash with a back roll on the warm summer lawn, her four legs sprawled overhead. Nothing like a little grass stain splotched across her wheaten-colored fur.

At the off-leash dog park, she ruled the place with Avaa, her Hungarian Kuvasz bestie as they pranced along the path. In her prime, her devoted papa would take her there daily. As she slowed down, Saturdays became her happy time when she’d whine and full-blown howl with excitement in the SUV that couldn’t get to the canine Disneyland fast enough.

At the ancient age of 9 (for a Wolfhound that translates to a very senior citizen), our beloved furry companion’s tumor turned out to be cancer. It’s impossible not to cry as that sweet pup’s beautiful, loving brown eyes filled with confusion and fear for a disease she didn’t understand and certainly didn't deserve to suffer from. After a few months, we lost her on Super Bowl Sunday. She died safe and at peace, surrounded by her loving family on the same dog bed she never let us throw away.

A wise woman once said, “Life is as hard as it is beautiful.” These days without Rynn are hard for sure. Opening the front door after working all day to an empty house with only memories of her welcome—that waggy long tail and unconditional love to melt all the stress away. And after dinner, the plate goes straight to the dishwasher, missing its pre-wash from a drooling, mooching canine. How many times did we complain about the dog hair tufts in every corner and slobber on the freshly Windexed sliding glass door? What we would give for a little extra vacuuming now.

No one prepares you for how fast it goes. The cumulative impact of grief cannot be overstated. With each passing, all the loved ones lost over the years surface in today’s sobs. Makes one wonder if it would have been easier never to get close to anyone in the first place.

But that’s not really an option either. The loneliness and pain of a loveless journey far outweighs the challenges at the end of a life well-lived. As many have said, grief is the price paid for love.

Smearing the tears away with the back of a hand leaves the other to swipe through digital snapshots. Those pictures capture the joyful, festive, and often goofy everyday memories that remind the living of the enduring connection with those passed.

Choose to love each other today. Don’t miss out on the moment. It could be one of just a few left to spend together.