I do my best to give you a daily dose of humor with each post and vent my frustrations at the same time. Today I have to share something a bit different, a bit more meaningful, but don’t worry, I haven’t lost my edge. Oh no, I’m not done with you yet.

Here’s a little background:

On February 26th I was in a car accident where I lost Madison, my sweet basset hound. She was the third member of our small and wonderful family. Since that Tuesday in February it’s like bassets disappeared from sight altogether. I haven’t seen another one except in photos, until today.

This morning I made it a point to run away from my house to do the daily Depot run, get some coffee, and generally hide from the chaos for a bit. While I was out, my husband was goading me to go to a specific store that was out of my way to get our brand of milk (we drink hippie milk). After some push back, I reluctantly made the trek over to the health food store. Driving through the parking lot I saw the pet shop next door was hosting an adoption event for the local basset hound rescue. Like an addict needing a fix, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, but I couldn’t stop myself from going in. I had to rub one more giant belly, hold those velvety ears in my hand, gaze into those giant brown eyes one more time. I know I was looking for the impossible: Maddy’s belly, her sweet ears, and wanting her beautiful eyes to look back into mine.

Instead, I met Aretha and Clifford, who reminded what bassets are really made of. They whined when I walked up, followed by howls to let everyone within a 4 mile radius know I was there, then they jumped against the pens to prove there was no way a flimsy plastic gate could contain the will of a determined basset hound. I spent extra time with each of them, slowly petting their giant ears and getting covered in drool. Aretha flipped over and graced me with her belly. This was Maddy’s greeting to every stranger she came across, to the point where she would run up and trip unsuspecting passersby as she flipped upside-down. Clifford followed me around as if he’d known me for years, howling each time I turned to pet Aretha (jealous boy).

As I petted and played with them, I noticed their different personalities, and more so, their distinct smells. Aretha smelled like a basset, but not like my Maddy. The same with Clifford-each of them was unique. And then it really hit me … I will never have that smell again. This realization came to me in a positive way rather than a grief-stricken wave. I can love that they are bassets and individuals, and not my Maddy. I love the breed and all of the quirks that go along with it.

Aretha and Clifford, as well as the basset hound rescue, gave me a gift today. I love my sweet Maddy, and always will, but I know I can also appreciate each dog for who they are. I can’t replace her, but I can share that love with another little personality some time down the line. Maddy’s smell will always be hers, and I will never forget that stinky little hound dog.

It was great to pet a basset. If you see a sign for a basset rescue, I highly recommend petting a few giant soft ears. It’s sure to brighten your day, you will make a friend for life, and the slobber keeps you cool in the summer heat.