This has been a rough year for me and many of my dog-loving friends; I’ve lost track of how many people I know who have lost one of their beloved canine companions. And every time I see another loss announced in my social media feed, it brings my loss back with a sharp pang. If you’ve lost a dog that you love as much as life itself, you know that pain.
Many of my friends’ dogs, like my darling Otto, were elderly. And while we all know that the death of an old dog is inevitable, and we may have even told our friends that we’re prepared for it, when death comes, our loss isn’t any less painful or easier to accept.
It’s far more shocking when a loss comes out of the blue. Cancer, especially that devil hemangiosarcoma, took several of my friends’ dogs. Often, they seemed as right as rain one day and had a dire prognosis the next.
At least we can talk to our friends and family about our grief – I think it helps. I know our other animal family members grieve, too, though I’m often at a loss as to what we can do for them. My 8-year-old dog Woody was a tiny puppy when he first met Otto; until June, he never knew life without his idol and leader. He’s been visibly depressed, uncharacteristically quiet, for months now. He walks with me to water the oak tree we planted on Otto’s grave; does he understand why Otto is buried there? We thought it would be comforting to have Otto buried on our property, but I have to admit that the very real possibility that Woody knows Otto is underground there haunts me.
They say that the pain of losing someone we loved is the price of all the joy they brought us. Heck, I’ve repeated this to my friends when they’ve suffered a loss; I know it’s as true as the fact that the sun will rise again tomorrow, or that I will love – and lose – another dog or three before I die. The more it hurts is directly proportional to the depth of the bonds we shared, the number of the experiences we had together, and the profundity of the things we learned together. What an honor! What a loss! Hang in there, friends; the love itself never dies.
Sending love and light to Otto, Raven, Lucca, Piper, Abbi, Prince, Sierra, Trixie, Lili, Gordon, Kaiser, Cinder, BlueBell, Buster, Grayson, Cheeru, and all those I can’t remember through my tears – so many good dogs! – and to the people who loved them – who still love them, even if we can’t still see them.
Thank you for such a wonderful article about your experiences with pets. It reminds us that the short lives of our pets are most precious to our hearts and we have all experienced the wonder of their love for us and learned to hold their short lives in our hearts. Perhaps it’s God’s way of helping us learn to cope with the losses we must all encounter throughout life.
Winnie is the last (so far) of a long line of fur babies in my life. At the age of 80 I’m not sure I’ll seek another as I worry that there would be no one I could rely on to care for one I might have to leave behind.
Most of my furry friends have been foundling or rescues. I have fond memories of my childhood resident cat Hubbah, Hubbah that walked with a hitch after a broken leg had not healed correctly. Hubbah lived to be 26 years old. Brownie was unfortunately short lived as she simply went to corner one day and left us. I think she may have already been old when she joined the family when I was about 8. I remember most my Bandit, a small, fluffy grey brindled fellow I think was a mix between a German shepherd and a Shiba Inu. Bandit, who went to doggie Heaven in 1988, looked a lot like my Shiba Inu Kiera, a Katrina survivor (2005) who lived t be almost 21 years old. Kiera and Bandit could have been twins with their bushy, curly tails in the air. People always asked if they were German Shepherd puppies. Moshi, a red, emaciated, Shiba Inu runt was rescued from a Nebraska Kennell shortly after Kiera came to live with us. We had taken a road trip East from Colorado and stopped at the Kennel to visit more Shiba Inus. This poor bedraggled, tiny, red female was being pushed around by the bigger Kennel dogs. When I commented on her the owner said, “She’s a 7 year old runt, not a breeder. Why don’t you take her home?” We did!
There have been so many pets in my life even before Bandit. There was Buffy the orange Tabby cat, who came to us the same time Bandit arrived. The two were inseparable and had no idea they were different species as they slept together, played together and protected each other. While walking Bandit one day we were accosted by a big black dog. Buffy came charging out of nowhere and stared that black dog down until he turned around and left.
Cricket, a miniature Sheltie, was totally my hubby’s fur baby. He pined for months after losing his master. My brother came to stay with us after my husband passed. He commented one day, “That dog doesn’t like me, he just lays there and stares at me with an evil eye.” I told him I thought it might be because he was sitting in the “Master’s” chair. Cricket stopped staring at Phil after he moved to the couch.
Winnie has been through a lot and has shined in her survivor mode several times over since I’ve known her. She may have a few more tales to tell about earlier ventures but they are her secret to keep since she’s at least 12 years old and has only been at my side for the past 5.
I met Winnie during Covid while caring for her owner, 88 year old Virginia. When Virginia left for her home in Heaven Winnie needed a new home. She had been adopted by Virginia’s family as a companion dog after being found in the jaws of a Rottweiler who damaged one eye and her lower jaw causing Winnie to lose all her teeth. Hence her little tongue is always hanging out over her little mouth, which really is kind of cute. Virginia’s family couldn’t keep Winnie and she was slated for the pound, so, of course, she came home with Kiera and me to live in Kansas. Now it’s just Winnie and I here in the middle of the Bread Basket.
Our first winter in Kansas was turning into a disaster when my heating system died in October.We had to navigate back to Colorado to survive. Fortunately my friend Deanna came to our rescue. Winnie and Kiera spent their winter months with Deanna’s two Chihuahuas, Suzy and Bella, 2 more rescue’s,
In October of 2022 Winnie suddenly developed a cataract and went blind in that eye within weeks. The cataract that developed in her other eye in November left her totally blind by Thanksgiving. I was so unhinged at this sudden development. Winnie was so lost and scared and at my age I was not prepared for a blind dog. Cataract surgery was beyond my means but I did a GoFundMe appeal and raised the funds to fix Winnie’s eyes in January 2023. What a blessing for both of us!
Here it is, once again January and we have received some very sad news. Winnie is suffering from renal failure. Her vet has given us little hope that she will survive this and I am devastated. I cried for days. I fall apart every time I think of losing her. My research leaves me with little more than easing her through the coming weeks with some specific care but no real answers. Like the sudden onset of cataracts, this issue also happened so fast that it was too late to help her although I don’t intend to just give up on her. There are some who say she may be helped, although not cured, with herbals, diet and at home IV’s. Winnie is down from 3 lbs. to 2.1 lbs. in just 3 months. Fifteen ounces may not sound like much but it’s a third of her weight, and that’s substantial. She is still eating and is not in distress but she doesn’t play like she used to and sleeps a lot more, under the covers with me at night.
My thoughts are consumed with the knowledge that “ALL dogs go to Heaven” and our fur babies will all be there waiting for us when we arrive.