you know your husband loves you when....

it started almost two years ago, two days after we brought our son home from the hospital.

the discovery of a tick infestation over 500 strong (though in his last telling the number had somehow risen to 1000) in our bedroom, with handfuls of smaller settlements throughout the house, by a postpartum, already fairly neurotic mother, whose baby had been in the nicu for a day and a half, and who was now unable to pee because that mother's milk had not yet come in, well, it was not good. 

it felt, as i recall, paralyzing. i remember wanting nothing but to take the baby and run, but there were 'germs out there' so i instead settled for holing up in the nursery, the only room somehow left unpopulated by ticks. and with ultra-ursine insticts, i drew the line and said: "the pets must go."

the cats were mine, and mine to give up, as guilty as i felt and still at times feel about it. seb argued, thinking i would later regret my decision, but obliged me in a sad but loving way.

the dog, however, was his, and after weeks of me insisting that the dog had to go, what seemed to me like a gracious compromise  entered my brain - the dog would move outside, permanently. 

it happened, though it took time,  a compromise being reached with a fence and a ridiculously large dog house (he was a great dane, after all) included to console dog and man to dog's new fate. and i knew, though i knew it before, with even deeper conviction, how much my husband loved me, that he consented to something he so very much did not want because it was what i felt i needed. 

the toll of this was not immediately perceived. hawaii is an ideal place for a dog to be outside full time. the realization came of a move to tennessee, with mild winters but nonetheless, actual, freezing temperatures, snow-and-ice winters, and the provisions that would have to be made to keep the dog outside. we had ideas: garage or basement, heated, when it was too cold, heated doghouse, extra, extra large doggie sweaters.

 but eventually the idea of putting an 8 year old dane, though healthy, through a traumatic plane trip, and to spend his last few years facing cold winters, no longer seemed humane. many would think putting such a social dog as a dane outside in the first place was not humane.  and i hated, and still sometimes hate myself, for whatever part of me just could not handle it. but regardless, the idea of having him back in the house made me anxious and upset to the point of tears, and i had to accept that however irrational and selfish my feelings were, the best thing for me and therefore my kids was to keep him out. i knew, having him back in the house, and especially with two babies, and no husband for a year of deployment, i would come to hate and resent him for the high crimes of drooling, shedding, getting sick, and making me pick up after him. even i always felt that solomon was just about the best dog we'd ever known behavior and personality wise. it would have been stupid and wrong, and i would have hated myself even more for it, but it would have happened, and he deserved better than that.

so my husband, trying to love me and the dog, decided to find him a new family with more affection for dogs and fewer neuroses than i have. and thankfully, he succeeded. solomon now lives indoors, in hawaii, with a family who loves him, children that dote on him, and a master that grew up with and loves danes. he is healthy and probably still has several years left in him, which he now gets to spend in a much happier way and place than if he had come with us.

we, even i (in my own way) miss you solomon, and hope you are doing great. i'm sorry i couldn't have loved you better.