Concerning what happened on the 16th of August

Remember this picture? It was the first thing I posted to this little blog of ours. What ever happened to that little guy anyway? Well, as anyone knows who has been following this blog for any amount of time, he kinda grew up. He grew into a happy, handsome, confident, hardworking young dog who fills me with pride. He has intertwined his way deeply into my heart and found things hidden there that I didn't even know I had. 

Puppy Raising is not a field of flowers, but it's not all that bad either. After all, we are given an adorable puppy and get to take it almost everywhere with us for a year and a half. Yes there are puppy accidents in the house. And countless seeming impossible training challenges. And the teenage months. And the Vet bills. And the helpless people you have to educate. And the regresses and set-backs where it seems that pup has forgotten everything we ever taught it. But all things considered, I'm convinced that puppy raising is one of, if not the most wonderful and rewarding volunteer opportunity in existence. Until finally comes the dreaded day: Turn-in. The day when puppy raisers across the country collectively perform a single, seemingly simple action.

Outwardly, it encompasses only the momentary passing of a cheap nylon strap from one hand to another. Inwardly, it involves something like a heart surgery performed on one's self. We must find a way to disentangle this gem, to separate this jewel from our hearts in order to place it on its own that it might shine more brilliantly. And we must do this without severing it completely, for that would not only be fatal, it would be impossible.

It is a delicate and painful surgery. 

On the 16th of August, I performed this surgery.

Just after 4 on that beautiful Friday afternoon, I handed Novel's leash to a trainer and watched him trot out the door and into his exciting new life without me. I would be lying if I told you there were no tears, but I don't think I would really want to tell you that anyway. They weren't bad tears. They weren't the scalding tears of abandonment, regret, or loneliness. They were comforting tears. They were honorable tears. They came from a heart swollen to the bursting point with hope and pride. 

I am so proud of Novel. I am so proud of where he has come from and I am proud of where he is headed. I am proud of the lives he has touched, and the ones he has yet to touch. I am proud of what he has taught me. I am proud of who he is. 

Not the greatest picture, but it was the only remotely usable one of Novel and I crossing the stage...

Directly after the ceremony...

Such a silly boy :) ...And now you know why he was sitting so straight
and looking so intently at something in all these pictures ;)

Last minute pics with Dante before turn in

Waiting in the turn-in line

A final farewell...

...and out the door he goes!