I hadn't really grieved Sweetie after her death. I was just shut down. After a week, my wife decided we should go to the animal shelter to get some dog therapy.
Within the first couple of minutes, we saw two beagle puppies together in a pen, and my grief hit like a frieght train. I literally collapsed in a crying fit in the middle of the shelter. I know I was making a scene, but I was beyond the capacity to care.
I got helped into a room for people to spend time with potential adoptions to gather myself. I could see a large dog that wanted to see me, so I asked to see her. They brought her in and she let me hold her and cry, like a caring mother. Someone had already claimed her for adoption, so I made sure she knew her forever family would be there soon.
Determined now to adopt, we looked around, and an older large black lab named Henry got my attention. He had the kindest eyes, and seemed so lost. We spent a half hour with him - he had been fostered three times, had a bad history with tumors and cysts, and was so big he was unadoptable for many people. He pushed thru my wife's fear of large dogs too.
He had to run out to get the cash, as we didn't come prepared. One of my favorite memories was coming back, and Henry seeing us return thru the window. It was the first time he gave his squeaky bark which he only uses for his favorite people.
Henry is a difficult dog to read. All the surface thoughts are there and easy to read, primarily his strong fear of abandonment and his love for us. But more of his deeper secrets only come when he chooses to share. Much of his time before us he doesn't want to remember, because he gave his heart to so many people that he lost, and I respect that and don't pry. He knows we are his forever home now, and that's all he ever wanted.