Ever since I was a baby, we’ve had anywhere from one to three dogs in the house at a time. The soundtrack of my childhood included the sounds of dog food dropping into an empty bowl, the jangling of dog tags, and lots and lots of barking. There was a slobbery face ready to welcome me home from my long days of school and late night shifts at work. During every thunder storm, I had a buddy to cuddle with, who was arguably more scared than I ever was. No matter what, the strong, unconditional love that only a pup can provide was always there for me to take comfort in. Until September 9, 2015.
I would like to think that I’ve lived a fairly privileged life in the loss department. I have not lost any incredibly close, humanfamily members in my lifetime, which is pretty unusual. I would consider myself lucky. Unfortunately, being a lifelong pet owner, there have been some tragic losses that shake me to my core. We lost our first dog, a beautiful yellow lab named Maggie, when I was in the fifth grade. She was basically my parent’s first child. Many pictures exist from my youngest years of me laying in her large, smelly dog bed while she observed me from afar, or gave my parents the “what IS that?” head tilt. She was my first sister, and was honestly the best non-human big sister that a little girl could ask for. The day she passed, I remember that I was eating a chocolate popsicle in my parents’ bed while watching “My Life As A Teenage Robot”. The news ruined me. She was very old, but it still came as a shock to my young, eleven-year-old heart.
Recommended for you
In the middle somewhere, we lost our loveably goofy, basset hound, beagle mix named Lady. She was a local shelter rescue with a stomach that hung to the floor and a scent that would knock anyone off their feet. After many years, she became blind. This tragically added to her charm. She barked furiously at walls and bumped into the occasional couch until the day she passed away. I’m not quite sure why, but her loss was not a shock. She had many incurable health problems, so we knew that her time was short. Like ass of our pets, as they aged, we made them feel as loved and comfortable as we possibly could and gave them all the medical attention we were able to.
Our most recent loss however, has been the toughest to take. His name was Myron, a Jack Russell terrier and beagle mix with an overwhelmingly upbeat personality, a curled tail, and a heart-shaped white spot on his forehead that he would demand you to kiss by shoving it into your face. One day, he began to act weird, (which was odd because that’s the only word to accurately describe that little pooch). He winced when we pet him, he whined and limped when he walked, and the sparkle in his eyes was gone. While I sat in my AP Statistics class my senior year of high school, I was expecting an upbeat call from my mother to tell me that everything was fine. I never received a call, so I excused myself and called her out in the hallway. My parents had just arrived at the vet’s office with my little buddy and were waiting to see the nurse. Everything was essentially fine. I went home from school like I did every other day, but had to walk up my dirt road alone this time because my mom was still gone. I made it home and made myself a sandwich and thought nothing of how late it was getting with no sign of my parents and dog returning home.
I heard the tires on the gravel driveway. I jumped up to greet the three of them home, but unfortunately I was unable to do so. I saw the grave expressions on my parents’ face and I knew what had happened. That day, September 9, was the day that my parent had to make the decision to put Myron down. I collapsed to the floor and sobbed. After the three of us settled on my couch, sniffling, my parents told me the whole story. Apparently over the previous months, Myron had developed late stage lymph cancer and we had no way of knowing. They were posed with the option to put him out of his misery, and made the heartbreaking and wise decision to do so. As devastating as that was, it was the best option.
Since that day, we’ve had discussions about getting another dog. But, the argument always arises that the pain of loss is too great to go through it again. In my opinion, nothing in this world can substitute or simulate the companionship of a dog. Yes, the pain of loss is devastating and heartbreaking, but the feeling of being around dogs that love us no matter what and even benefit from our presence in their lives, is too great. As dog owners, we give their life adventure and value just from showing them the love and compassion that they show us every day.
My year without dogs has been rough and the lack of a furry companion’s presence has been felt by my parents and I extremely hard. I understand why we have yet to get another dog, but hopefully the sting of our previous losses softens and we are able to bring another dog into our hearts and home.
