In yoga the other day Sarah said, “Sometimes you just have to rip the Band Aid.”
Our dog Pearl died while we were away.
It was a good death, as deaths go. On her own bed, at home, unassisted, no pain. People she loved were near.Most importantly a child, our grandson. Pearl was devoted to Chip, she loved sticks too– but she really loved children.
We got Pearl when our home was suddenly empty. The last of our five kids was out of the house, and the last of our old dogs, dogs we had for a long time, died. Then, I said, “We can travel now.” See the world, have freedom to do whatever we want, whenever we want. No more riding the bike faster so the old dogs wouldn’t be home alone too long.
The thing is, I don’t like to travel. Chip doesn’t either. We like being home and our home is not a home without a dog. And no, just because you have more than one dog losing one is not easier. It’s almost worse because you anticipate the grief to come.
When puppy Pearl arrived twelve Januarys ago our then only grandchild had just turned two. She’s a teenager now. My car was only a year old and I promised it to Caroline when she turned 16. That’s soon. And it still feels new. (It only has about 30,000 miles.)
But this is not about a car, or grandchildren. It’s about losing a great friend and companion that we were lucky enough to share our lives with. That we really miss. The house feels different. Incomplete. Less. Trixie and Jeff feel it, too.
I am a little anxious at how comfortable a place to die our living room is. Both Papa Bob and Pearl had peaceful, rather sudden endings there. I hope my departing is as gentle and swift. I hope the people around me in those last days will wait for me as I take a slow walk on my final morning. I hope I have friends and family near. I hope I’m home.
I know everyone says this, but it so unfair that parrots live to be 90 and dogs don’t. Would it be hard so hard for God to make that switch?
Pearl was old at 12.
Part of the grief is that those 12 years have been big ones. We were young grandparents back then. Still shocked by our new titles. Now we are Mimi and Poppy to exactly 12 grandchildren. That’s interesting isn’t it? Maybe a hidden message? Like it’s all part of a plan?
I don’t know. (Wouldn’t it be nice if I did?)
I do know that I couldn’t write again until I told you this. It’s the hardest part of living out loud. If I share puppy pictures and happy dog stories, I have to keep you posted ’til the end. I apologize for dragging my feet. I kept hoping I could write something brilliant, but words are hard to choose. My emotions aren’t in the dictionary.
I also know that I’m really lucky to have children who know dogs are family, and to have friends so good that they are keeping Pearl in their freezer on top of the halibut bait until the ground thaws.
She did love to roll in fish.
