The 43-year-old actress Jenna Dewan is mourning the passing of Meeka, her cherished puppy. Meeka, who was eighteen, died on May 28. On May 29, Jenna posted a touching ode to her “first baby” on Instagram. Over the years, she shared a number of pictures of herself with Meeka, including ones of Meeka with Jenna’s kids, Callum Kazee, 4, and Everly Tatum, 10, who are Jenna’s children.
In the tearful message, Jenna talked about how much she loved her animal friend and how many memories they had made together. She made the amusing comment that Meeka and she have “more eras than” Taylor Swift. As Jenna had different experiences and became a mother, she also acknowledged Meeka’s important influence in her life.
Meeka was Jenna’s continuous comfort and support system during their 18-year journey. She traveled the world with the devoted puppy, who also supported her during the difficult postpartum and quarantine periods. Jenna will always treasure the memories she shared with Meeka, who was the queen of the house.
Jenna expressed thankfulness for the dog’s calm transition even in Meeka’s last hours. She feels that because Jenna is currently expecting a child with her fiancé, Steve Kazee, Meeka’s soul will continue to watch over them and the new member of their family.
This loss occurs after Wylie, a rescue dog, was adopted by Jenna and Steve in 2021. With their furry friends and kids by their sides, they are creating a loving family. Jenna is thankful for the wonderful gift Meeka was and their enduring relationship, even though she is greatly missed.
Let’s pay tribute to and remember Jenna’s cherished puppy, Meeka, who filled her life with so much happiness and company.
I Found Tiny Childrens Shoes on My Late Husbands Grave Every Time I Visited, Their Secret Changed My Life
When Ellen visits Paul’s grave, seeking solace, she’s puzzled by the sight of children’s shoes resting on his headstone. At first, she dismisses it, assuming it’s a mistake by another grieving family. But as more shoes appear over time, the mystery deepens. Determined to understand, Ellen eventually catches the person responsible—and her life changes in an instant.
The first time I saw the shoes, I thought someone had made a mistake. A small pair of blue sneakers lay beside Paul’s headstone, neatly arranged as if left with intention. I figured a grieving parent had misplaced them. People do strange things when they mourn—I know I did. After Paul passed away in a sudden accident, I spent an entire week making jam that I knew I’d never eat. It was the only thing that made me feel like I was doing something, anything.
But those shoes were different. They didn’t belong, and I moved them aside before placing my flowers by Paul’s grave. It wasn’t until my next visit that I noticed something unusual: there were more shoes. This time, tiny red rain boots. Then, during another visit, I found dark green sneakers. It was too deliberate to be random. And it didn’t make sense. Paul and I never had children. I tried to convince myself it was a mistake—a grieving parent finding comfort in placing shoes at the wrong grave—but deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
As the shoes multiplied with each visit, it felt like an invisible hand was pulling at the fragile threads of peace I had stitched together. Frustrated, I stopped visiting for a while, hoping that by staying away, the shoes would disappear. They didn’t. Instead, they kept coming. When I finally returned, six pairs of children’s shoes stood in a neat row beside Paul’s headstone, like a haunting tribute I couldn’t comprehend.
My sadness turned into anger. Who was doing this? Was this some cruel joke?
Then, one cold morning, I finally saw her. She was crouched beside the grave, gently placing a pair of small brown sandals next to the growing collection. Her long, dark hair swayed in the breeze as she carefully arranged them, her movements slow and purposeful.
“Hey! You!” I yelled, charging toward her, the flowers I had brought slipping from my grasp, forgotten.
She flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stood slowly, dusting off her coat before turning to face me. That’s when my breath caught in my throat.
It was Maya—Paul’s old secretary. I hadn’t seen her in years, not since she abruptly left her job. She had always been warm and cheerful, but the woman standing before me now seemed burdened with a sorrow I recognized all too well.
“Maya?” I whispered, the disbelief heavy in my voice.
She nodded, her eyes red with unshed tears. Without a word, she reached into her coat pocket and handed me a worn photograph. My hands shook as I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was a picture of Paul, smiling down at a baby boy cradled in his arms.
“His name is Oliver,” Maya said softly. “He’s Paul’s son.”
I stumbled backward, the world spinning as the weight of her words sank in. My husband, the man I thought I knew so well, had lived a secret life—with a child.
“You and Paul were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Maya nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never wanted to hurt you. But after Paul’s accident, Oliver started asking about his dad. I told him Paul was watching over him, and every time Oliver gets a new pair of shoes, he asks me to bring the old ones to his daddy.”
The shoes… they were a child’s way of staying connected to the father he had lost.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers from a man who could no longer give them. But standing there, staring at the shoes left behind by a little boy who would never know his father, I felt my anger start to melt into something else—something softer.
Maya looked at me with guilt etched on her face. “I’ll stop bringing the shoes. I never meant to upset you.”
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