Ten years ago, my husband and I were childless newlyweds, living the working professional life in NYC. Our lives were pretty average. We had a dog, two cats, jobs, and friends, and we hoped to start a family.
And then, one day, our lives changed forever. We didn’t know it then, of course. It was just another average day when a little face came across one of our Facebook feeds. I don’t even remember whose it was, but I suspect it was my husband’s. He had a habit of picking up strays.
So, it seems logical that he saw a little beagle needing a place to crash overnight and a ride the next day to a shelter. We agreed we’d help. We both had a passion for animal rescue, and I had previously worked at an animal shelter as a teen.
That little guy didn’t end up staying in the shelter. He was so fragile and sweet we couldn’t leave him. We did the only thing we could at that moment besides adopting him…we offered to foster him.
We named him Dill (my husband was a chef, and dill was his favorite seasoning…we also had a dog named Basil and a cat named Sage). Dill was with us for three months, growing on our hearts and the hearts of those around us.
He attended meetings in support of a new dog run. He went to neighborhood events. Everyone who met him loved him, but as an old guy of the beagle persuasion (beagles are notoriously loud), finding him a home was hard. But eventually, we did. He went home to his forever family. They were perfect. But a few days later, he was gone.
Dill rapidly deteriorated in his new home. It turns out he had an aggressive cancer that multiple vets either missed or that came out of nowhere. We suspect that finding his family let him know it was okay to let go finally. The smile on his face his first night with his parents said everything. He was home. He was safe. He knew he was loved. He knew he had a family. His work here on earth was done.
