And the big things . . .

Last February, my son's two dogs came to stay. Although it was to be a temporary stay until my son settled into a new area, they've been with me for six months now. In the beginning, my husband was not in favor of the "two lummoxes" staying with us. Mainly because we have a seven pound poodle who rules the house and he worried that the two bigger dogs would take attention away from the little dog. Both my husband and the little dog were unfriendly and aloof the first few weeks.

Austin, 2 years old, weighs around 75 pounds and Vegas, a year old, is smaller at about 55 pounds. Both are pit mixes, although I'm not saying this anymore. I've shortened it to "a mix" which it truly seems to be. Austin is a beautiful rust colored dog and most resembles a Rhodesian Ridgback. Vegas is thin and wiry, and he has so many folds in his neck that my niece nicknamed him "Sharpea." Austin came from a shelter and my son found Vegas abandoned at a dog park at about 3 months old. He intended to drop him at a shelter but Austin seemed more settled with another dog around and the two now seem to complement one another beautifully. So Vegas stayed.

As the weeks passed, my husband grew to love both dogs and their antics often had us laughing and joking and playing together with them. The dogs enhanced the quality of the last weeks I shared with my husband.

And since my husband's death, I've come to feel that there was a reason why the dogs came to us when they did. They helped me cope with my husband's sudden death.

The dogs have me on a schedule. When I wake up, so do all three dogs. They stretch and begin following me around the house as I wash, dress, put on the coffee and collect their leashes. Then I walk each one individually. First Austin, then Vegas and, finally, the little poodle. It's not exactly as their dog heirarchy stipulates as the littliest dog is really the boss, but all seem content with this arrangement.

I read somewhere recently that early morning sunlight is wonderful for counteracting depression and I thought, so that's it! I have to make sure I wear a good SPF sunscreen and I'm more tan now than I have been for years. That's nine individual dog walks a day averaging 10-15 minutes each and then one group walk at midnight lasting only minutes.

The big dog loves to take what I call sunbaths. He drops and rolls in the grass nearly every afternoon and his pleasure and delight in rolling in the sun baked earth and scented green grass gives me as much pleasure as it does him. Then he sits and looks around, his big nose twitching as he simply enjoys the moment.

Vegas, the youngest and still like a puppy, trots along eagerly with a cute bounce to each step, and exhibits the innocence of a small child. Especially in the morning, his interest is captured by anything that moves: a bird, bug, butterfly or just a simple feather resting in the grass. Although feathers he views as if a cobra snake about to strike and he hops forwards and backwards trying to decide how close he can get. His antics every morning always chase away my sadness and bring a smile to my face.

And then they're immensely curious about everything I do and follow me everywhere. I can't open a cabinet, drawer or, especially, the refrigerator without two heads appearing beside me. I suspect they're more aware of what's in the house than I am.

I work at my desk for long hours each day. All three dogs have beds in my office and they take turns shifting and moving around in them, but all remain with me throughout the day. Vegas likes to be under my desk and prefers to rest, if possible, on my feet. If I move to the couch in the living room, Austin immediately puts his head in my lap and loves being stroked and petted. For him, it's a necessity. When I'm feeling sad or begin to cry, the dogs seem sensitive to my moods and all collect around me.

Austin, who craves a hug, is such a comfort. I love to wrap my arms around his muscular body and rest my head on his strong shoulder. He stands quietly when I do so, as if he knows how much it means to me, too.

Although I feel my husband's absence, the dogs have helped fill the void. They're always around me, touching me whenever possible even if it's just a head on my foot. Walking them has put me on a daily schedule so I'm always aware of the time and the necessity to make the most of it. I feel this has curtailed the amount of time I would have spent simply grieving. Instead, I've had to move forward each day, if only for the sake of the dogs who look to me a "pack leader" even though I've felt rudderless on the inside.

They've banished my tears and brought forth smiles with their joyful innocence in the world around us and the simply beauty of each day. In February, I was a bit afraid of both dogs because they're much bigger and stronger than any dog I've ever owned. But walking each one over the months and spending my days with them has helped me to bond with them in a way I'd never envisioned. They mind me so well now that a neighbor said she thought I was a dog trainer! Although, truthfully, I'm not sure who trained who. Certainly I've spoiled them with lots of attention but they've given me so much more.

I think they were sent to me as a way to help me through one of the most trying times of my life. And I'm so grateful for the comfort and love they've given me.

Next week, they'll be leaving, although I'll still see them a few times a month. My husband used to joke that the dogs would have "tears in their eyes when they left." Maybe, as I've certainly spoiled them with lots of time and attention, but they've rewarded me with so much more.

The tears when they leave will be mine..