Today’s post was written by Sid Korpi, a local animal chaplain and author of the award-winning book, “Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss”. Both Sid’s book and her chaplaincy services provide a fantastic resource for anyone preparing for or coping with the loss of a pet. For more information on either check out her website and blog, or follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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“Hello, my sweet Mortimer!” I say, blowing a kiss as I pass a photo of my darling Westie who died suddenly last summer, just after I turned in to the designer the final pages of my book titled—get ready for the irony to beat all ironies—Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss. His story became the book’s epilogue.

One might think keeping on display this reminder of Mortimer and his tragic end could be too hard to take. Surely, seeing his beautiful, smiling face and knowing he could no longer be physically with me was wrenching at first, but soon I came to understand that his spirit was always nearby and that seeing his visage and telling him I love him daily wasn’t keeping me stuck in my grief; instead, it was reassuring me I didn’t have to feel permanently separated from him.

He and his love were and are still accessible to me, and this photograph just keeps that fact in the forefront of my mind.

As evidence of my claim, shortly after Mortimer died, while I was still in the sobbing-so-hard-it-doubles-you-over phase of mourning, I entered my husband’s office. I’d been in there a dozen or more times since Mortimer died, but this time was different. I was hit by an overwhelming smell of fresh marking!

(Having been a rescue—found as a stray and adopted by us from the James River Humane Society in Jamestown, North Dakota—he’d occasionally marked his territory in the house, and this room was one of his favorites to anoint. We didn’t relish that aspect of his behavior, but we understood it and just bought de-stinking products by the gallon and loved to pieces our otherwise angelic dog.)

Suddenly, catching more than a mere whiff of this smell, I temporarily forgot he was gone and shouted an exasperated, “Oh, Mortimer!” The second it was out of my mouth, I started to laugh/cry with delight. “You brilliant dog! You really knew the perfect way to let me know you’re still around! I couldn’t confuse this smell with anyone else but you!”

Just to be sure, though, I crawled all around the room on hands and knees, sniffing the carpet (I know, I know. Yuck!) and checking for signs that maybe one of the younger rescued female Westies we have (Blanche and Keely) had been the culprit. No new wet spots were in evidence, and the Nature’s Miracle® (odor remover) had long since gotten rid of Mortimer’s scent in the rug. Yet when I stood, that cloud of stinkiness still assailed my über-sensitive schnozz.

I ran to use the phone in another room to tell my husband of Mortimer’s message and when I returned to the office, there was no trace of the smell that had been strong enough to knock me over moments before!

My heart’s healing leaped forward from that moment on because I was assured my baby boy was doing fine (and still had a great sense of humor) on the Other Side.

A family snapshot of Sid and her husband, Anthony Kaczor, with their Westies, Keely, Blanche, and Mortimer. (Please note this photo was not taken by Lucky Mutt Photography.)

A couple of months later, my husband started making rumblings about our adopting another rescue Westie. Something had compelled him to start searching PetFinder.com, and one day he came to me saying he’d found a young male in a shelter in South Dakota. We live in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and I told him that although there were astounding similarities between Mortimer and this new dog—they were both male strays in shelters in the Dakotas AND they were both the largest Westies we’d ever seen (Mortimer was 23 non-fat-based pounds, as opposed to the average 16–18 pounds of most Westies; and this new dog weighed in at 28 pounds, which suited his great length, and was more than twice the size of each of our full-grown females!)—I cautioned my husband not to imagine that, just because of our wishful thinking, proverbial lightning would strike twice and we’d be blessed with another perfect-for-us dog.

Plus, when we’d adopted Mortimer, there’d been no other dog in the house to consider. Now, we had to be sure any new dog we took into our home would get along with our little girl doggies—not to mention our two cats, Giles and Xander. I vetoed our driving the six or more hours to pick up a dog with no chance for us to gauge how he’d do with Blanche and Keely. I assured my husband there would be other local adoptions available wherein we could have a home visit.

Then another thing happened that told even me, the skeptical Sid version of a doubting Thomas, that this adoption was fated to happen: the veterinarian at that South Dakota shelter said she’d be driving in to the Twin Cities, to the University of Minnesota campus (five minutes from our house), the next day and we could bring the girls to meet this new guy! I capitulated and immediately went out and bought “Ambrose” his new identification tag.

As if we needed more assurance that Mortimer himself had paw-picked for us this new doggy, the moment he entered our house for the first time, Ambrose ran directly into the room where the basket of dog toys is kept and brought one to me to show he knew where they were! Then, he raced directly to Mortimer’s favorite marking spot upstairs in my husband’s office and lifted his leg on the closet door! We shouted, “Ambrose, NO! You go potty outside!” and inwardly sighed that we’d be buying more odor remover by the case for another territorial male.

But Ambrose never marked again. He never had to. It’s as if Mortimer had led him to do this the one time and in that particular spot to remind us to give him credit for finding us our new baby boy! Message received, Mortimer!

No matter how many years pass and how many more rescued pets come into (and transition out of) our lives, Mortimer’s photo is going to remain in its place of honor. I will forever more blow him kisses each time I see his smiling face and thank him for being such a phenomenal presence in our lives.

And while I’m being super cheesy, I thought I’d use that tie-in as an excuse to show off my favorite tongue ever…Phaneuf’s! Those of you who’ve had the pleasure of meeting Phaneuf are also probably familiar with the profuse apologies that Ryan and I often doll out for the behavior of her tongue. The phrase, “she’s a licker” is almost as common as the comment, “Wow! I thought that was a bear!” Her tongue, which is big, and often full of more slobber than the average dog-loving human is used to dealing with has it’s own separate brain…we’re sure of it. It greets people at the door, “thumps” like a leg when you hit just the right spot during a belly rub, and has been known to leap tall counters with a single bound (especially where anything buttered is concerned). All while the rest of Phaneuf looks at you with a glance that says, “I’m sorry, I can’t make it stop.”

It is in it’s quietest moments that it really gets me though. That little, itty-bitty bit of lolling tongue that sticks out when Phaneuf is at her most relaxed. It reminds me of her gentle soul, and never fails to bring back memories of the night we brought her home. Just a wee-little 23 lb black furball of a newfie pup with a tiny pink tongue passed out cold on the kitchen floor…a moment my heart will hold onto forever.

For a while now, I’ve been trying to find just the right way to bring a piece of my personal life into the Lucky Mutt blog on a more consistent basis. Over the past months I’ve thrown all kinds of themed ideas around in my head without acting on any, and I realized recently (like with many things in my life), I’ve been making this far more complicated than it needs to be. So, today begins “The Lucky Life”, what I hope will become a weekly feature that will serve as both at journal of sorts for me and (what will hopefully be) an interesting read for you.

And to kick things off, a few photos from my cousin’s beautiful wedding in northern Minnesota last weekend. The weather was wonderful (even the late evening storm seemed to miss it on purpose), the atmosphere was relaxed, and the flower girls got lots of giggles as one (the younger) yanked the other (the older) down the stairs for their grand entrance. It was a wonderful, family-filled evening (see Mom and her 2 sisters below) in one of my favorite parts of our state.

Dan and Shelby, thank you for inviting us to be a part of your day, and best wishes on the journey ahead of you!