The Rainy Days After the Sunny Days

It was about a dog named Sunny.

She was a golden retriever. Nearly every person has loved a dog, there's only a few strange people who don’t really like the animals, but the majority of people do.

Sure it’s true that they have attributes that are unlikeable, crapping in your lawn and such, but overall, they are quite pleasing to have. They can be useful in many ways. Sunny might not have been as “useful” as some other dogs, but she did serve a purpose in our lives…

Sunny became part of our lives after my wife’s second miscarriage, as if the first one wasn't hard enough, not that it was her fault, it's just the cards that were dealt. She had a dog growing up, a yellow Labrador named Lucky. Lucky lived a long life of 14 years. She was a female dog that might as well have been the rightful heir to the throne, she was a princess. She slept in the bed, might as well had her own seat at the table, and when her body started giving out, had more medications than some people. Remembering all of this is where I got the idea for Sunny.

My wife was happier as a child. She played outside with small insects, bugs and such in the garden, exactly the kind of things small girls do. She brought Lucky along on the adventures, Lucky always willing to go, as any dog would. When I met my wife, she was in college, and back then, Lucky had a little more spunk, but still enjoyed their adventures.

We were married for a few years before attempting children. We, like anyone who has never been in the situation, thought it would easy to do. And of course, like everyone in our current situation discovers, there can be "complications", some more severe than others. This is where Sunny comes in to play.

The news of the second miscarriage was the hardest part of that day, but there was still a lot left to unravel over the next couple months, as we continued our attempts to produce a child. We would visit with doctors for new technology in the conception process, but as it turns out, we learned she had more serious issues.

The problem is that she was unfit or incapable to bear a child. It's an interesting way doctors give tragic news to their patients: First they ramble it off in their medical language, as if they expect you to know what they mean. Wait, let me back up. First they tell you there is an “issue”. They call it an "issue" because that word is somehow supposed to let you down easier; as if using this word instead of the word "problem" would make any difference at all when its followed up the medical jargon. So they tell you have an "issue" and then let you hang there with a noose around your neck as they explain things in their medical language that you, nor anyone who isn't a doctor, will most obviously not understand. Why? Because I'm not a doctor!

This is where Sunny came into our lives, she was meant to be that ray of hope in the darkened sky. Like the sun's rays breaking through the clouds after a thunderstorm, Sunny brought us hope for more pleasant times.

Sadness and depression hovered in our home, like a dense fog so heavy it makes it difficult to breath… making it difficult to live. It's as if the home didn't have any windows, and instead of wallpaper, all you saw were cinder blocks. Pictures disappeared from the walls, carpet was replaced sandpaper, and our bed sheets might as well have been replaced with nails. Life was miserable, and Sunny changed it all.

When I picked Sunny up from the shelter she was already two years old. She hadn’t fully grown out of that puppy mentality, but she was larger than a puppy. The expressions on her face were human-like. And she was so smart! When she wanted water, she would nudge you with her nose, and stare at you until you paid attention to her. Then she would lead you away from whatever currently were doing, and take you to whatever it was she wanted, like fresh drinking water.

It's been said that smarter breeds of dogs, like golden retrievers, have the same intelligence level as a two year old. Sunny had the intelligence level of a six year old.

My wife would often take on walks, up and down the road, this was her way of coping with her "issue", but as soon as she entered back into the house, the weight that was lifted, was dropped back on top of her shoulders.

When Sunny joined our family, that weight got lighter. She would wag her tail whenever she knew that one of these famous walks going to occur. She would wag her tail so hard that her whole backend would move, nearly six inches in each direction! Sunny always enjoyed watching the cows across from our house. When she went out, yet she never seemed so interested that she wanted to get close. Cows seemed to be just another creature in God’s green earth to keep her entertained, as did the bugs and other small insects in our new garden.

Our new hope came with Sunny, and even though we knew conceiving a child was near impossible for us, we were willing to keep trying different drugs and remedies anyway.

Now it was the spring time, and April brought the showers again. Sunny had turned three, and had never tried to run away, in fact she rarely left our yard. I don’t know why she did what she did that day, and I never will know.

When you live outside of the city, it is often said that life slows down, I would agree. Anyone that lives out here will also tell you that people drive too fast, I guess would also agree with this also. The cars speed down the road as if it’s a horrible thing to take in the scenery. The trees changing color in the fall, the ice hanging off the branches in the winter time, in the spring new life arrives, and in the summer everything is in full bloom.

Spring brings new life to everyone but us. For us, Spring is just as cold as winter, there's no new life, not birds singing, no bees in the flowers. We don't have a garden to watch grow anymore, the only thing that grows is the weight on our shoulders, and the walls around our lives.

My wife doesn't go on walks anymore, we aren't trying for children anymore. We have lost both our Sunny days and the sunny days.