Sometimes when a loved one, whether that’s a person or a dog, passes on, we wonder if we should celebrate their life or mourn their loss.
But as with most things in life, Often we do both.
Sadie was a good dog.
She was a jolly, tongue rolling out of her mouth, carefree kind of dog.
Simple things made her happy, like cuddling, or sitting next to you to have her head petted, chewing her raw hide.
Her long soft silky ears flopping at the side of her head, and her old brown, puppy eyes.
They were dreamy, and kind, and loving.
Those are her wonderful qualities that I remember.
There was not a mean bone in this girl’s body. She was just loving, more than any other creature could be.
Maybe because it was in her nature. Maybe because she was grateful to have a better life.
But when she died, I didn’t know about it. He said he couldn’t tell me.
“I was a wreck.” “I knew I needed to put her out of her misery.”
And so he rushed her to the vet, just 1 hour after I saw her.
And he and the vet decided it was time.
And I wish I was there, but part of me knows I probably wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
When he got home, he said she was wining and in pain and she couldn’t get up. And he knew he couldn’t let her suffer any more.
It was time.
And that’s when I realized how strong she was.
Because she had held it together for me when I saw her. Maybe she was just so happy to see me.
She was wagging her tail, seemed to be smiling.
But then I saw the panting and how every step seemed to be a struggle.
She was in agony.
And I felt sad for him because I knew the connection to her was so strong.
The day he brought her home, he said to me how he knew she needed to come home with him.
She just came up to him and lay on top of him. He fell in love with her instantaneously.
And the owner then said, “I’ll get the leash”
I never understood people’s obsession with dogs.
They travel everywhere with their dogs, they take them for car rides to the grocery store the bank, to work- literally everywhere like they are hauling around their children. They spend more on their dog’s medical bills than they do their own. They often feed their dogs better than they feed themselves.
I never understood that necessary attachment that people have to their dogs.
But then I became a dog owner.
Well then everything changed.
Sadie was an ugly dog when we first got her. She was severely underweight, her coat matted.
She looked like a scrawny, sad, homeless dog.
She had been neglected, found wondering the streets, believed to have been in a puppy mill somewhere in Tennessee. The many dogs she must have birthed.
But she escaped and lived off the streets for God knows how long.
She was a survivor.
Even until the end, she never gave up. She hung on til the very last breath.
The amazing thing about Sadie is that ’til the day she died, she never stopped being a mom, a parent.
Even as I lay there with her in her last few hours, she was being just so strong.
She was trying to hold it together.
And I realized maybe she was being strong for me.
She could barely stand and her front legs were shaking, struggling to keep her upright.
But she took a few sips of water and a few bites of her food as I urged her on and encouraged her to eat.
But mostly she wanted to chew that damn raw hide, because I know it was comforting for her.
And we lay there in the grass together on that perfect summer evening, Listening to the birds, feeling the breeze.
I wrapped my arm around her head and chest. And every once in a while she would lift her head up and nudge her face into mine.
I didn’t want to let her go.
As I pulled out of the driveway, the two of them --Klondike and Sadie— looked at me. And it seemed they were looking at me with these sad eyes. Especially Sadie, as she lay on her side and looked back at me with her puppy face. It was heartbreaking.
I really didn’t think that would be the last time I was going to see her.
I knew it couldn’t be.
I thought there would at least be another day.
And I miss her terribly. And I’m sad she had to go from this earth so soon.
She was one of the most loving creatures I have ever known.
She bore her own suffering so gracefully. She would try so hard to get up the stairs those last few months or just to walk a little bit down the street.
Her arthritis was bad. And probably there was cancer. She was after all an old lab. 8 years old ? 10 years old? We didn’t know.
But despite her pain and suffering she was always there for me.
She knew my sadness as soon as she saw me. And she would always come to my side to comfort me.
How she knew, I don’t know.
I still think she died of a broken heart. Our separation may have been too hard for her to bear. I know there was something else that took her life though, most likely cancer.
But us separating didn’t help. It seems to have hastened her death.
And I realize now that there will never be another Sadie.
And I think I tried to deny throughout our whole relationship and time together, how much I truly loved her.
And that’s the unfortunate thing about loss.
You realize how good you had it, how much that person or animal really meant to you when they were in your life.
And there is nothing you can do to change it.
You can’t take it back. You can’t bring them back.
You can only move on and learn to love more, love a little stronger, a little more sincerely, the next time.
To love like you mean it, to grab on to that love, hold it tightly, and never let it go.
As the sun comes up, I shed more tears for you Sadie and pray that you are in Heaven.
And I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you enough. I’m sorry if I didn’t love you enough.
There will never be a dog as special as you Sadie.
I love you.
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