It has been a month since our beloved Millie died, and I think I am ready to tell you this story. We had done all we could for our eight-and-half year old golden retriever, but the cancer had progressed too far. Dr. Maddie came to the house at 11. A few minutes before, I logged onto the Guideposts system with my password to tell a few people what we had finally decided for Millie and to ask for prayers.
Millicent Johanna was her registered name, and Julee and I often called her MillieJo for fun or Millicent when we wanted her undivided attention. We would miss her terribly by any name.
Right after she had breathed her last gentle breath, with Julee and me stroking her head, I went back inside to log on again and let people know. Access denied. My password had suddenly expired without notice. Now my tears were tears of fury. I could not reset the password remotely. I was locked out. I fired off a livid email to our IT team via my private account. How could they do something like this? How?
All day I veered between grief and rage. I am not a complete fool. I knew the two overpowering emotions were intertwined, like a roiling riptide just below the surface of consciousness. But these were emotions beyond my mortal control.
READ MORE: 5 WAYS TO HEAL AFTER THE LOSS OF A PET
That night I tried desperately to log on once more, typing my password carefully so I wouldn’t get totally locked out: MILLICENT. Millicent. Millie. Maybe I am a fool, but at last it struck me. The password had mysteriously expired at virtually the same moment my beloved dog had. It wasn’t a dumb mistake by the IT guys. It wasn’t an accident. It was a message: Don’t be angry. Let go. Remember the love. Move on.
I’ve tried, and I’ve prayed. I still wake up in the morning and step carefully over the spot where Millie slept, still afraid I might tromp on her. But it’s getting better because I have had a little help. Here is a picture of that help. As I’ve said before, Julee and I can’t live without a dog to love. By the way, we named her Grace.
