People often have favourite breeds of dogs, don’t they?
Maybe they love greyhounds like a couple living in a nearby town who dress their trio of thin dogs in bright-striped pyjamas to keep them warm on below-zero days.
Or they might be dachshund people like a woman I recently heard about who runs with her short-legged friend tucked under her arm.
People often decide to replace their dogs with one of the same breed when the life of their first dog ends.
When the time comes, we won’t be able to get a younger version of our dog, Quinn. As far as we know, no one is breeding Shar-pei/Great Danes, so we can’t order one. Our dog is unique.
Quinn would still be unique if someone decided that wrinkly velvet-soft dogs who love to sit on their owners’ laps, despite their size, are the perfect dogs to breed. She has her own appealing, quirky personality.
Kids are unique, too. Even within families, they’re all individuals.
I have a friend with eight children who look like they belong to each other. At the same time, they’re all very different. I look at them with awe. How many unique variations are possible within a family? I suppose someone might have looked at my family in the same way. And yours, too.
Yes, children are individual creations. They are irreplaceable. No child can take the place of another.
When my son Thomas died, friends, trying to help, said that at least we had five other children. And maybe we’d have another baby soon. But we grieved deeply for that particular child who’d been a part of our family for such a short time. No one could replace him. Not the siblings that were there when he died. Not the ones who were born after him.
Although it has been 25 years since Thomas died, every detail of his birth and death has been etched into my mind, never to weather away.
On Saturday, we’ll be celebrating Thomas’ birthday with gratitude. On Sunday, we’ll remember with sorrow how he died in our arms. We’re glad we have our son. He has his unique place in our hearts.
And Quinn has a doggy place in our lives that belongs to her alone. Quinn snuggles up to me, resting her soft, wrinkly chin on my lap, and gazes at me through her soft brown eyes. She looks like she’s saying, “Love me! Don’t love that other dog.”
But we do love our other dog. We love our one-of-a-kind black-coated animal shelter dog, Nora, too.
When we love, love miraculously multiples. There’s always enough love to go around, isn’t there?
My Unschooling Dog Collection
Dogs have made their way into many of my blog posts. Here are a few of them:
My Private Stories
Some of my posts need a password because I want to protect my children’s privacy. I don’t want the whole world to have access to them! If you’d like the password, please leave me a comment and I’ll send it to you. If you’d like to make a small Buy Me a Coffee donation , I’d appreciate your support!
