Pippa the dog…


Over a week ago a puppy joined our family life. She was all black with white socks and we called her Pippa. She smelled gorgeous, like a 9 weeks old puppy smells of. She had the sweetest eyes, full of mischief and loveliness. Although she could have moments of utter madness she could settle curled up in a ball at your feet and sleep deeply for hours. She was adorable, but she wasn’t made for me.

The boys and Craig were totally smitten but every time I looked at her I felt a very deep anguish.
Her first night with us sent me in a panic attack that was unexplainable until I realised she wasn’t my Nala and that probably was why…

She came to us too early, at a time I wasn’t ready to love her fully. I couldn’t create that bond that make you forgive everything to a mischievous puppy. All I could think off was the downside of living with a puppy even if I had prepared myself for it. I remembered what it meant to have one, the hours of training, the bitting and chewing, the little presents left everywhere…

I was the only one not enthusiastic about it all, yet I was the one who would spend most of my time with her. So we made the hard decision to find her a new loving family. By doing this not only we were worried we might give her to someone who might not love her properly but we also had to tell the boys that the dog they thought would be theirs for years, was not going to stay.
Elliott was the most affected and my heart broke with guilt for doing this to him.

And then luck struck. The day following our decision, in a conversation with our builder, I heard that his mother in law had just lost her dog and that she was now living alone. I offered to talk about Pippa to her and that night she moved into her new home. She slept on the bed and already has her seat on the sofa. She is already loved as much as she deserves and I am now aware that our mission was to make sure this lady and Pippa met.

As for us we will wait a while longer before committing to another dog because for now the memory of Nala is enough for me to live without the presence of one.