It's Not About the Dog

Last week I go a phone call from my mom at 5:30 am. She was in tears as she choked out, "Our little friend has died." I racked my brain for a minute desperately trying to figure out who it could have been but finally gave up and asked.
It was "Joshie," her itty bitty pocket dog. Joshie was the puppy of two of her previous dogs, a pom and Chihuahua; tiny and yappy indeed... In recent months the poor thing had developed congestive heart failure that was being managed by the finest "puppy cardiologist" around. Evidently the little guy had developed worsening shortness of breath during the night and mom had taken him to the emergency vet. She left him there for only a few moments to drive my grandmother home and that is when he finally died. She was ridden with guilt. "I never should have left him alone."
My mother isn't the most emotionally stable person in the world. Past experiences involving my mother and loss had me worried about how she would handle this. To make a long story short, she was devastated. My sisters and I spend several hours over the next couple of days with her sobbing on the phone.
I spoke with her one evening after classes and was quite surprised at what she said that day. "I know it's kind of ridiculous to be this distraught over a little dog. I'm scared, what am I going to do when Granny and Grandpa die? I've concentrated my life so much on those few things that I don't really have any friends. I put so many expectations on that dog, I thought he would be around forever to accept me, to greet me when I get home; but he couldn't, he was just a dog. The truth is that I'm alone with nothing in my life that is that meaningful."
Wow, she was dead on! She went on to describe a conversation she had with a neighbor in her driveway and then how she invited the little neighbor girl over to teach her how to crochet, a Bible Study Fellowship group she wanted to join... It's not about the dog indeed. If we just take the time to keep listening, we might find that out.