Letting Go

Letting go. The opposite of holding on. Let go and Let God, comes to mind immediately.  Boy howdy, do I struggle with that one. I like to hold on, I like to give chances, I like to wait for transformation.  I like to invest. But sometimes, you have to let go.

Case in point, my beloved pointer Mickey. Aka MickLovin, Mickey-Poo, Mr. Mick. Mick has been in residence with us for over 17 years. He has been on the sofa for most of those years, with brief visits to the bedrooms.  He chewed a hole in every blanket I've owned. He's dashed through the yard with a hot pink bra flying in the wind behind him. He's given comfort as a therapy dog. Been comfort to those whom he shared the sofa with. He's been a mentor to all the foster dogs who have brought us laughter, graced our lives and sometimes tried our patience. Several times he took advantage of an open gate, door, or an distracted HuMom and went on great adventures.  He loved those trips, I aged because of them. 

You know where this is going. It's going to the part of letting go. It's the day no one wants to see arrive. It's about making the choice to let go before only bad days remain. The end result is a gift. Yes, it's a tear filled gift. No, it's not a decision made easily. In my heart I see him trotting solidly across the yard as only he could at the ripe age of 18.  In my heart I see him snoozing on the sofa. In my heart I hold on, even after I've let go.  He wouldn't want it any other way, neither would I.