Six years ago today, Maja moved in with us.
When I write that, I pause for a moment. Six years. So many mornings where she wriggles between my legs for a cuddle. So many walks where she picked up some scent I never would have come close to noticing. So many moments where I was simply grateful she was there.
But the beginning was different.
It was 4.5 months after Niela’s death. We had waited consciously, until we felt ready again, carefully putting out feelers, without pressure, without a fixed goal. And then suddenly there was this photo, this face, and it felt right. Maja had lived with another family for 3.5 years before us, and at our first meeting she made it very clear with her kisses that she wanted to come with us. Animals communicate so directly, when we pay attention.
And yet, afterwards, there was this feeling.
I couldn’t love her the way I had expected to. The way I had hoped to. My heart was heavy, and there was this constant thought: I am betraying Niela. I know that isn’t true. I knew it back then too, rationally, in my head. And yet the feeling was there, loud and persistent and somehow bigger than any explanation.
I felt guilty towards Maja, thought I wasn’t being fair to her. Thought we had made a mistake. Too soon. Much too soon. And at the same time, I knew that Niela was glad another furry soul had moved in with us. She would have been the last one to hold it against me. And yet my heart couldn’t simply accept that, just because my head understood it.
Maja was so understanding the whole time. So patient. As if she had known exactly that my heart needed its own path, and that there was nothing to be gained by rushing it. She gave me space without pulling away. She was simply there. Gentle, steady, without demand.
At some point, I can’t even say when exactly, it was just there. The connection. Without me having done anything in particular, without a specific moment I could point to. She was suddenly fully there, and so was I. My heart had found its own way, in its own time.
Today I am so grateful for our snuffly little ball of silk, who always keeps an eye on everything, who starts every morning with a wagging tail, and whose warmth I sometimes only truly feel when I pause for a moment and simply look at her. đŸ We have shared so many happy, precious moments together that it still surprises me sometimes, how much space she holds in my heart.
Every animal is different. We love each one in its own unique way. And sometimes the heart simply needs time to arrive. That is not a failure. It is not a sign that the connection isn’t there or won’t come. It is human.
Maybe you know this feeling. You are not sure whether you are ready for a new animal yet. Or you have already welcomed a new dog, a new cat, and you notice that the connection doesn’t quite feel the way you hoped. Maybe you wonder whether you made a mistake, whether you are being fair to your animal who passed, whether your heart is even capable of opening like that again.
Can I tell you something?
It doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It means you are still grieving. And grief and new love can exist side by side for a while, before the heart finds room again. There is space for both. Both can be true at the same time.
Your animal sees this. It knows where you are right now. And it waits, without impatience, without expectation, simply in its quiet, clear way.
Trust your heart. It will find its way.
Maybe you are going through something similar right now, or perhaps you know this feeling from another time. I would love to hear from you.
With love, Tanja