So on this crummy day, I want to share a not crummy thought. Courtney reminded me of this the other day, and I can’t think of a better thing to share on this day so full of my son, and so empty without him.

Nanook is a dog I had the distinct honor to own for over 10 years. He was bold, noble, dedicated and serious, some sort of Shepherd mix, ninety pounds of intimidating black and brown tough guy. In his very late years his muzzle grayed, his ears folded over and his personality mellowed radically. He became almost silly, which was funny given who he’d been his whole life. He believed his job was to guard and protect. I never taught him a thing except to sit and “bring it closer” when we played fetch but he instinctively knew to patrol our home and be aware at all times. I think the personality change was his coping mechanism for his rapidly failing hearing and increasingly limited eyesight. Although I enjoyed every moment with him, I still think of him as the young, handsome, stern dog who refused to sleep on the bed because it interfered with his regularly scheduled night patrols of our home.

To describe Tinkerbell is to write my memoir. It’s sad to me that she didn’t make it to the time I now enjoy in life; she was a teenager when she died. She was impetuous, pretty, fickle, loving and strong. In the few days after her injury before her death she and I still played a game we started when she was just tiny. I’d take a single piece of hay and ask her if she’d “Wanna fight?” So she would grasp the tip in her teeth and pull and shake her head until it broke and then repeat the process until the piece was just a tiny shred. She was silly and angry and fierce. She really did try to kill us when learning to be ridden. She reared on Courtney, and attempted to roll on Trina too many times to count. She was stubborn and nimble, but when she loved, she loved deeper and wider than any other I’ve known.

My happy place now is a spot in my imagination where these two animals that have shaped my heart spend time with the baby who broke and made it infinitely bigger all in a moment. Joel is riding Tink, he’s somewhere between toddler and little boy, not nearly old enough to ride on his own but happy places don’t need that dose of reality so ride he does. She’s naked, no halter, bridle or saddle, just a dark haired little munchkin hunched over her neck. They are running and her thick, unruly mane is all grown out, streaming in the wind except for the handfuls Joel has all wrapped and knotted in his chubby fingers. Her eyes are bright and happy, looking on ahead, thrilled with her small passenger. His plump little feet bang high on her ribcage and she lowers her head a little to run even faster. The world is sunny and green, the sky a perfect shade of robin’s egg blue. Nanook is lying down nearby under a tree, head all the way up, completely alert, grumbling out of the corner of his mouth. “Tink. Now Tink he’s just little, watch it.” The boy giggles into her spotted neck and she tosses her head and throws out a foot to stomp it at a full gallop, they thunder on even faster as the somber dog growls, “Woman, so help me if you lose that boy.” But you can tell he is enjoying watching and admonishing as much as the two of them are enjoying their full speed romp.

She spins around swiftly and a squeal escapes the child as he grabs on even tighter when she lowers her haunches and rockets off back toward their furry guardian. She pulls up short in front of the dog and the boy bounces a little and grins widely at them both, so full of glee he can hardly contain himself.

I’ll be spending lots of time there today on Joel’s five month deathiversary. I’m grateful I have such a wonderful place to go when this world is just too much without them. I’m grateful for them, all three of them, but especially that dark haired little munchkin. He’s the best of this world and of that one.