I’ll never forget the day we brought Nana home from the Humane Society. She had been abused and was not
too keen on having my husband and I get too close; but the kids were another story. She adored
them; she’d even let my, then, two-year-old play with her food while she ate. As time went on,
she grew to feel safe with us, even to the point that she would crawl up into bed
with us―all 160 pounds of her! There was no doubt about it, she felt loved.
When my infant daughter died, she was there to comfort me. She seemed to
know exactly when the tears were coming. Sometimes, when I was really sad and tried to push
her away, she would nudge her nose right up to my hand and not stop until I had hugged
her and shed a few tears. She was an amazingly wonderful dog. Who would ever have
thought that there would come a time, when we would painfully have to give her back?
 When she came home with us, she was skin and bones, skittish and trembling with fear. There
was not one male that could come near her. Just the raise of our hands, over
our heads, would have her squirming away with her tail beneath her legs. Yet, we were
determined to give her a better life and show her love.
Over time, she became wonderfully confidant in herself and the love she felt. She would even
bark when strangers entered our yard, instead of cowering away. She went up to men and sniffed
them out, and we could finally raise our hands without her being fearful. We spoiled her rotten
and loved every minute of her company; that is, until the day she decided to venture out into
the world.
One day, at six thirty in the morning, we were awoken to find Nana had climbed our woodpile
and jumped right into our neighbor’s yard. Thinking we had solved
the problem, by removing the woodpile, we went about our day. But Nana had tasted freedom
and wanted more, soon she found a way to jump our six-foot wall. No matter how much we tried to
put an end to this behavior, she refused to listen. As each day passed, she grew more and more
determined to leave the compounds of our home.
The final straw came when she began jumping the fence while we were home. The
time had come to give her back. We had Nana for two years, she had grown to be an amazing part of our life, she
went on bike rides and hiking and family vacations. Our kids pleaded with us to
keep her. They had no idea how our heart broke at the thought of seeing Nana
leave; after all, she had become a part of our family. But to keep her would
have been endangering her life and the life of others as she often zigzagged up
and down the streets, while cars swerved to miss hitting her. And we simply
couldn’t afford to move to accommodate her newfound streak to run.
It truly was an act of selflessness that we gave her up. We tried everything; including
getting help from the Humane Society, but keeping her would have been selfish and could have
cost her, her life. That day, we learned that sometimes, loving someone means letting her go.
As I sit and think upon the times we had with Nana, I cannot help but think that she and I
were meant to help each other―when it mattered most. Giving her back to the Humane Society
was simply allowing her to touch the hearts of others.
About The Author:
Alyice Edrich is a freelance writer for hire who enjoys helping parents earn extra
cash from home so they can spend more time with their children. To get three free e-books or buy one of her best sellers,
visit http://thedabblingmum.com/ebookstore
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