When Mum decided to rehome our dog, Izzy, I was devastated. I was going through a grieving process, which I didn’t even realise was possible, considering she was rehomed, not dead, but I found out the fact of never seeing her again hurt just as much as the alternative. Mum couldn’t cope with Izzy. She didn’t like the ‘commitment’ of a dog. She didn’t like the fact she couldn’t go out and do as she pleased whenever she wanted anymore.
Mum’s way of apologising was by getting me a kitten to replace Izzy. I picked out a beautiful calico, which I named Bo. She cried the whole journey home and and was very shy, but she grew to trust us and we loved her.
I still looked out for ‘the yellow van’ that I knew Izzy’s new owner owned, whenever I was out and I decided if I saw him I would confront him and take her back home with me. But I never saw him. Months went by and I learnt to cope without her. The replacement of Bo seemed to work and I forgot about Izzy, or so I thought…
It started at a car boot sale nearly three years later. Everyone was walking around, most of whom had dogs on leads walking next to them. I saw how happy they were and what I was missing out on. I looked down at my own empty hand and felt lost. From then on, I could feel tears prick my eyes every time I walked past a dog. I sunk into grief, would cry all the time. It was like there was a space in my heart needing to be filled.
Today, I still don’t have a dog. I still have that missing piece. But I have learnt a valuable lesson. You can’t just replace something you love.