April 26th was one of the worst days of my life. It started off so nicely too — it was the first warm day of the year; warm weather and not a cloud in the sky. I had made some plans to go for a stroll after class, maybe walk along the Charles River if the sea breeze wasn’t so strong.
I was making my way through the Boston Common with Prince’s “Computer Blue” blasting through my earbuds when my mom texted me a picture of the Purple One himself. The tagline read: "Prince just died!"
I was shocked. Prince couldn’t die! He was Prince! I called my mom and asked her if she was joking, but after she sent me the story from TMZ (always the first to break the latest celebrity news), my doubts were abolished; The Purple Reign was over.
Heartbroken and disoriented, I did what all music lovers do when a legend is lost: I headed straight to the Barnes & Noble at the Prudential Center in Boston and listened to Prince’s greatest hits. After “Raspberry Beret,” I blew my nose and headed outside to enjoy what was left of the day.
But just as I had finished nursing my wounds, I took another blow. My mother called me up for the second time that day, only she sounded more depressed this time. With a shaky voice, she told me my beloved Schnauzer, Humphrey Bogart, was no longer with us.
Well, that did it. I was a wreck all over again and could barely function. Losing one of my favorite singers was one thing, but losing the dog who was always there for me? Forget about it!
I sat alone on a park bench and watched dog owners bond with their canines. In doing so, I thought about all of the good times I shared with my youngest brother. I remembered the day we first brought him home; his little body trembled in his crate as we drove on the highway. I thought of those long walks in the neighborhood in springtime and cuddling up with Humphrey by the fire during those cold winter nights.
And now, he had crossed the Rainbow Bridge into Dog Heaven. I know All Dogs Go to Heaven because dogs are naturally good (unlike people), but that does little comfort for the heartbreak you feel when you come walking through the front door and there’s no little barking maniac to greet you.
Not even a full week later, my dad was already talking about getting a new dog to fill the void. I wasn’t so sure about it — my mother, my brother and I were still trying to get over Humphrey!
“Come on,” my dad told us. “It’s the only way we’re ever going to get over it.”
We thought about it and — like always — realized Dad was right. So my parents (my mother a bit reluctant) set out to search for a new addition for the family.
I admit I felt angry at first. I didn’t want to replace Humphrey. I had been with him all his life, now we were just going to move on like nothing happened. Why?
I got my answer the day after Mother’s Day when I got a picture of a baby Airedale Terrier. It was a little girl, and my heart melted instantly. Her big brown eyes could hypnotize the toughest criminal.
After much negotiation (a LOT, actually), we settled on a name: Tess McGill, after the protagonist in the Mike Nichols film, 'Working Girl.' The name was perfect: Airedale Terriers are working dogs, we were getting a girl, and Melanie Griffith’s character was from New Jersey—which is where our dog will be coming from.
I have been over-the-moon excited about this — from looking at food bowls and checking out dog outfits (which I will convince my dad to allow Tess to wear), I’ve realized that the only way to honor the dog you’ve lost in your life is to adopt a new one. It might sound crazy, but when you’ve spent half your life with man’s best friend, the family feels incomplete when they’re gone. The best way to fill that hole in your heart is to do it all again.
After all, why wouldn’t you want a creature whose capacity for unconditional love is limitless?
