By Sally Barnes
It has come to this. My blog is going to the dogs and it has brought me to tears.
Unfortunately, I have reached an age at which many of our friends and relatives have either died or have major health issues.
Sadly, many of these folks are, like our own family, lifetime dog lovers and their beloved canine pals are also reaching their journey’s end.
When humans die, news of their death ends up in the obituary columns of newspapers or on social media. When someone died in the days before mass communications, a notice was nailed to a community post in the town square.
I’ve noticed a trend that today’s obits are becoming longer and longer and more and more distinct (and costly.) Some people author their own death notices.
I read obits for information I need to keep up to date but also because I find them interesting. Many are quite unique—like the lives of the dead. I read them and think to myself: Now there’s someone I wish I had known. The odd one even produces a smile. A while back the lifetime of a saintly nurse, mother and community worker was chronicled. It included, “And she didn’t take shit from anyone.” Good for her.
Another said the deceased was “grouchy but loveable.” No one is perfect!
But back to the dogs.
Our dogs are members of our families—and often the most loved and loveable family members. Sometimes, they are the only family people have.
When they die after a life that is all too short, it can become awkward when a family dog suddenly disappears and people want to know and what to say or do.
A few months ago, our much-loved,10-year-old Border Collie Babe died of cancer after a mercifully short illness. Our presence in the nearby dog park and the morning walk with my husband ended. I sent an email to her many friends to pass on the bad news and their understanding and sympathy was helpful as we continue to grieve her loss.
(There must be a special place in hell for people who don’t like dogs and have no understanding and no sympathy for those who suffer the pain of the loss of a best friend and companion.)
Good friends recently suffered the loss of Maggie, their beloved and beautiful 13-year-old Golden Retriever and emailed a note written in the form of the dog’s personal goodbye—what she would likely have said about her charmed life, the people she loved and who loved her.
It prompted me to write back offering my heartfelt condolences and admitting the rough time we are having adjusting to the loss of our Babe.
The lapse of eight months has not eased the pain. We picture her everywhere—from the time she was a mischievous puppy to the experience of being with her as a very caring vet injected the drugs that would save her from a hopeless and painful battle with cancer and take her from us forever.
We have gone through this with several dogs over the years and it never gets any easier. In fact, maybe it’s harder now that we are older and spend more time at home enjoying and appreciating the love and companionship they provide.
It’s hard to accept that Babe is gone.
She was even a cover girl—appearing on the cover of a novel I wrote about our dog park and the precious relationship between people and dogs. Her pictures are everywhere.
Her favourite toys—some of them inherited from previous dogs who have shared our lives, gifts that showed up under the Christmas tree or maybe even stolen from the dog park—are all a little worse for wear but remain in a toy box which is the first destination of visiting dogs.
Teeth marks on chair legs and scratches on doors are reminders of Babe in her puppy stage and that of her various predecessors over our long, dog-filled life.
Suddenly we need a door bell again and are conscious of the need to make sure our doors are locked at night. Our official greeter and protecter has left the building.
The kitchen is especially empty these days.
There is no one to lick up the spills or stand staring at the cook reminding us that the official taste tester is running out of patience.
And the dreaded end of meals when hubby has gravy or scraps left on this plate and there is no one waiting to volunteer for cleanup duty.
Bedtime means there is more room in the bed.
Our healthy walks have become shorter and less frequent without Babe. It’s no fun walking without a dog at your side or racing across the lawn in pursuit of a squirrel or to greet a neighbour.
And our beloved Grass Creek Dog Park? Too painful to see all the usual suspects and remember the good times. People still ask, “where’s Babe?”
Like all dogs, Babe had her quirks and between tears we remember and laugh about these. She was especially curious and liked to sort through the belongings of overnight visitors. Entertaining friends in the living room one night, she joined us and dropped a piece of visitor’s underwear right in the middle of the carpet. As I recall, the owner was not amused.
Over the years, we have made so many lasting friends at the dog park and during our walks. It’s embarrassing when you have spent a lot of time with a fellow dog walker and when it’s time to introduce them to a newcomer or see them at the store or on a social occasion and the only name you can remember is that of their dog.
Most of our fellow doggers have experienced the loss we now suffer. We have all loved and lost dogs but we agree that it is indeed better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
Many are serial dog owners.
After a dog loss, many return with another dog at some point. Ah, the sweet scent of a young furball in your arms or having your legs tangled in the leash of a rambunctious rescue dog who has just found a home.
Some dog lovers, because of age or health or other circumstances, can’t have a dog and volunteer their time to help out at dog rescues, “dog share” by walking a dog for a working Mom or sick or disabled friend or neighbour. Some just go to the dog park and enjoy the company and hijinks.
I give the final word to our late Golden Retriever friend in her goodbye email sent by her family:
“All good things must come to an end. Please know how much I loved you all. Treasure all the memories we have of one another and thanks for the love we shared. Forever yours, Maggie.”
Another life well lived to help make this world a kinder, gentler more loving place.
We have a sign over our door at home: “The more I learn about people the more I love dogs.”
Ain’t that the truth!
Sally Barnes has enjoyed a distinguished career as a writer, journalist and author. Her work has been recognized in a number of ways, including receiving a Southam Fellowship in Journalism at Massey College at the University of Toronto. A self-confessed political junkie, she has worked in the back-rooms for several Ontario premiers. In addition to a number of other community contributions, Sally Barnes served a term as president of the Ontario Council on the Status of Women. She is a former business colleague of Doppler’s publisher, Hugh Mackenzie, and lives in Kingston, Ontario. You can find her online at sallybarnesauthor.com.
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