Little Pink Socks

I am not a big fan of comic strips.  I don't typically pull the comics out of the paper to read them.  I do, however, have a favorite comic.  I am absolutely head over heels in love with Mutts, the comic strip created by Patrick McDonnell.  Not only is it funny, adorable, heart-warming, and pro-adoption of shelter animals, but McDonnell supports various organizations such as the Humane Society of the United States.

Anyhow, the point of my mentioning Mutts is one of the main characters, Mooch, and his love affair with is little pink sock.  This cat is never happier than when he has that little piece of clothing in his paws.  You'd really have to see one of the "little pink sock" strips to understand, but imagine your pet with his or her favorite toy, just in an unbelievable state of bliss.

Now I have to take you back a few years to when our dog Becki was still alive.  In her last few years she had a few surgeries to remove benign tumors that were just not in good places, if a tumor can ever be in a good place.  In order to keep her from scratching at her stitches we bought her a couple of pairs of infant socks, one of which was pink.  Little pink socks.

Fast forward back to 2011, it has been about four and half years since Becki passed away and we have had the little dachshund beasties, Bill and Bailey.  In all those years we never put Becki's little pink socks away.  They somehow found themselves in a basket full of blankets in our loft, just waiting for somebody to come along.  Last month Bailey came along.  She picked up the roll of socks and started carrying it around with her.  It just perfectly fits in her petite little mouth for her to toddle off with to her next napping ground where she curls up with it next to her as if protecting it from loneliness.

My parents and I were in awe, jaws literally dropping at the site of it.  Bailey was toting around Becki's socks.  After the first time we saw it, I didn't think much of it.  I got that warm, tingly feeling down my spine that signals something special was happening each time Bailey had her roll of pink sock, but I figured I was just being a sentimental sop as usual.

It was only a few days ago I found myself delving for a deeper significance as to the meaning of Bailey and the little pink socks (which always reminded me of Mooch, there was a connection there!)  That's very typical of me, having to make something bigger of what is probably just a random occurrence.  But there I was, taking a shower one weekend morning, and suddenly I was bawling.  I was bawling in the way that one cries but tries her hardest not to make any noise because it's so silly to be crying and nobody should know about the tears behind the bathroom door because she'll have a hard time explaining herself.  It's not uncommon for some tears to fall when I think about Becki for too long.  It can happen with thoughts of any of our late pets, but mostly her.  And there I was, dripping wet and thinking, maybe this is Becki's way of saying that everything is alright.  These little guys (Bill and Bailey) are okay and she approves.  We're doing alright here and she doesn't mind after all.

The amazing part?  I typed this whole thing dry-eyed.  Whether it makes sense or not is another story.