It won’t surprise anyone that my Facebook feed is filled with dogs. I follow K9Konvoy, a woman in Wisconsin who purchased a bus and drives a pack of mutts to her farm every day. I follow Newfangled Newfoundlands and Chow Chows, a breeder in England who has a farm filled with Newfies, Chows, a sheep named Mayonnaise, small horses, and some little pig named Sidekick. They wander in an out of the house and romp through fields. It’s totally mesmerizing. Mayonnaise is currently being courted by another sheep in hopes of future lambs. This breeder takes back dogs at any age. They recently had one returned and were able to rehome.
I’m not particular. I’ll follow any dog site that celebrates the energy and love we humans are fortunate enough to receive.
A few years ago, I began following a site called Gummy Bear the Newf. I decided to interact with Gummy through an alter ego, Boomer. Of course, you all know that Boomer was our last Newfie. He was a gorgeous, spirited, loveable Landseer (black and white) version. He was our seventh Newf over a period of forty years.
Boomer and Gummy soon became good friends. Boomer arranged adventures for Gummy and her many friends from around the world. I created planes, helicopters, jeeps, and boats to take all of them to Australia, across Canada, to Alaska, Europe and even to the Moon and beyond. After a while, they became sweethearts. Boomer fought off other suiters, another Newf named Paddington and a particularly bothersome guy named Vito from New Jersey.
When Boomer crossed the Rainbow Bridge I didn’t want to lose connection with Gummy, so I let Monkey take over the alter ego position. Monkey was always polite but true to her nature, grumpy. Her advice to Gummy was always a bit edgy. “Eat Momma’s shoes and she won’t be able to go to work”, advised Monkey. And she always ended her advice with a polite, “Sincerely yours, Monkey”.
These adventures were always posted on Gummy’s Facebook page. They made us laugh through Trump 101, Covid and the years since. Gummy’s many fans fretted over lack of snow, rain instead of snow, hot weather instead of nice cold, Momma going to work. We were all saddened when Nath lost a parent. But when Gummy had the zoomies, we all smiled. When Gummy refused to come in on a nice, cold, snowy day, we got it. The pure, simple joy Gummy would express at the smallest things. Bacon. Her stuffies (how she worried when her Momma would wash them). When her Momma had a few days off, Gummy was ecstatic. All she ever wanted, besides bacon and her stuffies, was her Momma.
You know where this is going. Gummy has an aggressive form of cancer. Her momma, Nath, will give her the love and care that will keep her comfortable until the inevitable, horrible decision must be made. It’s the kind decision but it’s the worst any of us who love animals ever make.
I had a dream once that GB and I crossed the Rainbow Bridge together and we were greeted by all the animals we had loved. The world was filled with dogs and cats playing, birds flying around, happy snakes hanging from the branches of leaf adorned trees. There were gentle hills, streams, ponds, and a large green valley where dogs freely zoomied.
I realize now that it’s not a dream. The Rainbow Bridge is real because those of us who are lucky enough to love dogs are already living there. No creature on earth quite as perfect as the dog who asks so little of us save a home with love. That’s all. They ask nothing else. And what we receive in return is far greater.
It breaks my heart to say goodbye to Gummy, a dog I’ve never met who belongs to a woman I’ve also never met. I know how Nath feels. I understand that emptiness of coming into a home without receiving a giant Newfoundland dog greeting. Or even a hello from a small, waggy, wiggly critter.It’s just hard to say good-bye.
Air. 
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