Saying Goodbye to Lincoln

This week was a bad week.  And by bad, I mean, I wish I could wake up a month from now and forget that some of these things ever happened.  The horrendous school shooting that took place in Connecticut yesterday makes me sick to my stomach with grief, and the realities that some dear friends are living in is hard for me to come to terms with.  I don't understand why things happen the way they do, and I suppose I don't really want to, but somewhere deep down I believe something bigger is at work.  That God is in control somehow and that even though He is, people can still do evil things.  But as for the good people, like the really really good people, I don't think I'll ever understand why bad/tough things happen to them.

The tragic events of yesterday and the events in the lives of several dear friends as of late remind me that perspective is a good thing to have.  Yesterday was also a hard day for the Larson household because we gave up our dog Lincoln.  And while this was a painful thing for us, I recognize that in the bigger picture, we should not cry for long but rejoice that we had the time with him that we did.  I am most grateful to have a son I can squeeze tightly tonight before bed, and this is the biggest blessing of all.  So, I write this little tribute to Lincoln with perspective in mind. 

Last night we dropped Lincoln off at his new home.  It may be a temporary home as the woman has only agreed to foster for now, but she very well may be the one who becomes his new mom.  She seemed very sweet and pleasant, and we can only hope that Lincoln is in wonderful, caring, loving new hands.  The trip out to her house in Aurora was filled with tears, well sobs, and lots of sweet kisses for the poor pup who had no idea what was coming.

I won't recount what the past few weeks have been like for us except to say that we did not come to this decision lightly.  We adopted Lincoln from the Washington, DC shelter back in 2008 after he had been found roaming the mean streets of Anacostia (and by mean, I mean mean).  We took him in (well, at the time, it was me who took him into my one bedroom apartment in Eastern Market), and loved him whole-heartedly from the start.  For over four years, Lincoln became our best buddy, our partner in crime, our most loyal friend... he drove across the country with us, he moved to new homes with us, he loved us unconditionally, and we'll never forget what a wonderful dog he was for us.  It's so weird to say that a dog can feel like a son, but he really did.  He was our family.

The early days...

Lincoln and Lincoln

I'd like to say that we loved Lincoln unconditionally, but once Benjamin was born, the conditions were more than apparent.  It became extremely clear that our lack of boundaries/training were not going to bode well for a dog that needed to welcome in a new "brother" to the home.  Many of you know (or were the unfortunate victims of) Lincoln's random acts of aggression.  And unfortunately, this was something we were never able to correct.  With a baby around, especially an ever-increasingly mobile one, this just wasn't going to work.  I lived in constant fear of something happening to Benjamin, and in the end, I knew I just couldn't keep that up long-term.  Believe me, we tried.  I wanted nothing more than for Lincoln to love Benjamin they way I could already tell Benjamin adored him (I caught Benjamin sneaking him treats at just about every meal time, literally from his hand to Lincoln's mouth!).

Lincoln and his nemesis, Benjamin...

Lincoln was wary from the first time meeting Benjamin...

So, cut to today.  Today is our first day without the dog we have loved so much, without our "son" Lincoln.  When we got home last night, I became acutely aware of how much I would miss cuddling up next to him on the couch to watch TV or having him snuggle in bed with us on cold nights.  We didn't hear his barking when we walked in the door, and we didn't get a big wet, sloppy kiss.  Instead, we heard the silence of no paws walking on the wood floors.  Gut-wrenching.  And so I cried some more.

Since I'm now crying for the umpteenth time as I reminisce about our favorite pup, I should probably finish up by simply saying that we already miss him.  We know we made the right decision, but it feels like a part of our family is missing, and what's worse is the guilt of knowing that it was by our own choice.  I know we'll feel better soon, I know he's going to have a better life somewhere else, and I know he's just a dog, but we miss him for now and hope he'll always know how much we love him.

And our funniest video of him, the boot hop: