Pawprints on the Heart

I remember getting off the school bus after a long day at elementary school.  Ma was sitting on the front steps, waiting for me. She said that they had taken Booger, our old yellow cur, to the vet.  He was sick, and they put him to sleep.  I knew enough about doctors to understand about anesthesia during operations, so I wasn’t perturbed.  “When will he wake up?”  It was at this point that I learned about euphemisms, and about loss. 

Since then, I have seen many, many dogs come and go.  A few have gone on their own, suddenly and without warning.  Most have been hard decisions.  Maybe it’s a product of my own age and experiences, but I am always cognizant that my time with these dogs is finite.  When I assume responsibility for a dog, be it a stray like Rufus or a pound pup like Hazel, I am aware that I will one day dig a hole for that friend.  Three of our dogs are ten or older; seniors are still in good health, still eating well, still moving well.  The voice in the back of my head whispers “one day…”  Eventually, for each dog, the whisper will become “soon…”

I’m terribly sentimental when it comes to dogs.  A sad story about a lost pup or bereaved old hound will bring a lump to my throat and send me rushing to find the nearest of my own dogs to pet. A suffering dog tears at my heart. But when it comes to my own hounds, as hard as it gets, I’m always there until the end.  I can’t abide the cowards who leave their pets alone at the vet’s – or worse, take their senior dogs to a shelter or dump them on the side of the road when the animal’s infirmity becomes inconvenient.

I love my dogs more than I love most people.

And grief is the price of love.

“Having a dog will bless you with many of the happiest days of your life, and one of the worst.” –Unk.

Additional:

“The Good Death”, an essay by a veterinarian about the hardest decision the pet owner has to make. Should be required reading for any owner.

Familiar’s Promise, a song by Heather Alexander