July, 2020
The loss of a loved one – be it human, canine, equine... whatever – is very hard. My recent loss (canine), and the memories of past companions that it churned up, has made me realize that one of its most difficult aspects is dealing with all the “firsts”.
Coming home from the vet’s office immediately after, you walk into your home and for the first time you feel the emptiness. It never ceases to amaze me how the smallest dog can fill the biggest home (and my dog was not small). The residence of one of my previous clients measured more than 12,000 square feet. On one visit, I walked in and immediately knew that their little rat terrier was gone. That great barn of a home just felt empty.
That night is another first, a dark and unpleasant one, followed by the next morning when you open your eyes and slowly remember what’s different about the day. In my case, no bright smiley face to greet me, no long lean body to scratch from nose to tail (our regular morning ritual). That was one of the most difficult moments.
I’ll be hitting the road again soon and I don’t look forward to the first time travelling without Bernadette. I doubt it will be near as much fun. Of course, she was never wild about riding in the truck. She lay on her bed in her own space behind me and panted ...for hours (at first I thought my singing might have bothered her, but I quickly dismissed that idea confident in the knowledge that my duets with Sinatra are epic). There was a time early on when I found her constant and repetitious sounds annoying. If you think I won’t miss it this time, then you’ve never known and lost the love of a great dog.
My only consolation is that she won’t be stressed out on this trip. Another first, and the only good one.
Oddly, I sometimes hear (or perhaps sense?) my dog turning and readjusting herself in her doggie bed on the floor next to ours. The problem is she has been gone over 3 years. I find it comforting rather than eerie or strange.
I know exactly what you mean. If I get up in the middle of the night and come into the kitchen for some water, I sense her there in the dark. Not quite to the “comforting” part yet, but getting there.
Thanks!