Allison K. Pittman - Saturdays with Stella

Contents

For Mikey,
who finds a way to be master of the house
while letting me be Queen.

And my boys
Ryan, Jack, and Charlie,
who deserve an echoing chorus of, Good boy!

Finally, thank you, Katie,
for putting Stellas life in my hands.
May God richly bless you as you seek to walk with Him.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledgethat you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

EPHESIANS 3:1419

Acknowledgments

F irst of all, I give thanks to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who brought Stella into my life so I could experience just a taste of His infinite love for me.

Thank you, Lisa Pittman, for your awesome photography skills. Ive always said that Stella reminds me of Audrey Hepburn, and you did such a great job of capturing her beauty. You truly have an eye for the soul, my sister!

Thank you, Alice and Brian and everybody at Multnomah, for seeing this story long before it was a single word on a page.

Thank you, Bill JensenAlpha Agent!for being so strong and so smart and so supportive. May you always find peace on your two-mile loop.

Finally, thank you, Jean Pittman. Im blessed to have your son as both my husband and best friend. You were the most intuitive person Ive ever met, and Stella absolutely loved you. Thank you for being so generous with your life on this earth, and I cannot wait to see you in the new one!

Introduction

Divine Puppy Drop

B efore Stella, there was Neumann, and Neumann was perfect. In all of his eleven years, he never chewed a shoe, never woke the neighbors with his barking, never pounced on anyone from across the room. Neumann knew how to be at my feet without being under them; he knew his place on the bed was at the foot, not the pillow. Living with Neumann was less like having a dog and more like sharing a home with a gentlemanly old uncle who insists on wearing his suit coat and tie even though he hasnt been gainfully employed for at least twenty years. He came into rooms and onto couches only when expressly invited and vacated them with the slightest gesture. His greatest fault was that he suffered malodorous problems when he ate spicy foods.

Neumann was my dog. I couldnt take more than three steps without him right at my sidesilent and unassuming. My husband, Mike, and I hadnt been looking for a dog at all; he simply showed up on our doorstepfully grown, ate a piece of cheese, and never left. When Neumann was young, he could jump so high, a specific command would bring his front paws to my shoulders. When I was pregnant with my twin sons, I was terrified that he might jump up as I held one of the babies, so I dressed a teddy bear in a onesie Id received as a shower gift, held it in my arms, and told Neumann, Dont jump!

He never jumped to my shoulders again.

Neumann, with his penchant for short walks and long naps, was the ideal dog for me, but he wasnt really a fun family dog. He wasnt about to chase a Frisbee or wear a bandanna. As they grew up, my sons longed for some sort of beautiful romping doga golden retriever, a lab, a German shepherdanything that could run across a field with its fur billowing in slow motion. They begged for a new puppy.

No way, Id tell them. Neumann could never adjust to life with another dog. It wouldnt be fair to him.

Maybe we could get another dog as soon as Neumann goes away, theyd say, curling their little fingers in the requisite quotation marks.

Listen, I told them, Ive had Neumann a lot longer than Ive had you, and youd just better hope the house doesnt ever burn down so I wont have to choose which one Id save.

As it turned out, Neumann did go away long before he actually died. Toxins released from his aging, diseased liver induced a kind of canine dementia, and for the last year of his life, he roamed the house unaware of his surroundings, to the extent of not even knowing if he was in the living room or out in the yard. He stopped making eye contact, and the unnerving way that he stared past me broke my heart. Our vet confirmed that he was in quite a bit of gastric pain, and the stiff movement of his joints served as further evidence of his constant suffering. Just before the Thanksgiving holiday during his eleventh year as part of our family, Neumann was allowed to find quiet peace.

And I fell apart. For months afterward, I would come home from work, open the door to my empty house and say, Hey, Neumy-neum! just as I had for over a decade. Not every day, of course, like I did when he was alive, but on those really good days when I was full of fun stories and happy to be home to share them.

After a suitable period of mourning, my sons came up with the same old questions. Could we get a new dog? I reminded them that Neumann was so special because he had come to us. I said that if God wanted us to have a new dog, He would drop one right in our yard.

Just be patient, I told them, and pray.

Meanwhile, I was praying too. Something about wanting a canine hedge of protection.

A year passed, and while visiting my in-laws at Christmastime, my niece walked in with a tiny, shiny puppy of indefinable breed(s). Onyx black, save for an ermine-like breast and a freshly docked tail, the pup had been abandoned in an apartment complex parking lot. Searches and posters had failed to produce an owner, and a shelter loomed if the little thing didnt find a home.

If God wanted us to have a new dog, He would drop one right in our yard.

I took the puppy in my hand and held her, nose to nose, up to my face. She had a single star of white fur in the middle of her forehead.

Im going to name her Stella, I said.

So the boys had an answer to their prayer, just as Id hoped they would. With a divine puppy drop straight into our family. One would think that the result would be a wash of great joy. And I guess it was, in a James 1:2 kind of wayyou know, all the joy thats supposed to come in the midst of trialsbecause it seemed straightaway that our enjoyment of Stella would be a test of faith and a development of perseverance.

She wasnt a bad dogno worse than any puppy, I assume. Yes, she chewed things, and yes, she dug holes, and yes, she yapped incessantly at times, and finally, yes, she was prone to piddle on the floor. It was this last bit of misbehavior that threatened to rip our family to pieces.

We did everything right in housebreaking Stella, and by we I include all members of my family and Stella herself. We were consistent. We offered rewards and praise; Stella accepted them. She scratched on the door; we opened it. We opened the door; she ran out. With all matters of urinary business successfully settled in the yard, it seemed the constant carpet-prone indiscretions had little to do with any pressing potty need. A checkup with our veterinarian diagnosed the problem: submissive urination.