Last Updated on September 3, 2017
This will be a relatively-short post, because the more I’d try to write, the harder it’d be.
I had to say goodbye to one of my dogs this morning.  I have not written about the anguish leading up to it here at all, so don’t feel bad if you had no idea.  In fact, only a handful of very close friends had any inkling about what was going on, because it was just too difficult to talk about.
Knowing that I needed to write this post to acknowledge his absence, I was curious to know how I had handled this same situation in the past; after all, I’ve had dogs since I was in diapers, and losing them is, unfortunately, part of the drill.  But I realized that in the last five years, I haven’t lost a pet.
The last one I lost, in fact, was Zack’s predecessor, another cocker spaniel.  But that was before I had started my blog.  So I have no earlier post to base this one on.
Comedian George Carlin was the one who said that every cute puppy should come with a sign that reads, “Warning:  This will end badly.”  Losing one is never easy, and those of us who love our dogs like they’re members of the family are far too familiar with this fact.  A sign wouldn’t stop us from bringing them into our home, anyway.
I was with Zack at the end, an end that came too soon.  If he had lived to be 30, I’d have still thought it was too soon.
He was an entertainer.  He liked to get into trouble, and if there was something he knew he wasn’t supposed to have, he wanted it about fifty times more.  (My other dog, by contrast, would prefer to be in a different room than be near a temptation that might get her scolded.)
His main “trick” was to put his paws on my leg as I was sitting down, look up at me with expectant eyes, and wait for me to ask for a hug, whereupon he’d just throw his head against my chest, earning a big “Awwwww” from anyone in the room.
This morning, I was the one hugging him.
It was oddly peaceful at the last moments.  Almost frighteningly peaceful.  He was treated by a wonderful vet who surprised me by actually rearranging her schedule so she could be there in person to comfort him and his owner.  I was deeply grateful for that, but was hardly in a frame of mind to be able to communicate that as clearly as I’d have liked to.
My other dog doesn’t quite realize what has happened.  To her, it’s just like Zack is at the groomer.  She probably assumes that he’ll come home in another hour or so, hair much shorter, dusted with perfume and adorned with some silly bandana.
I didn’t take her along to the vet this morning, and I didn’t let her see Zack before I buried him at my parents’ home afterwards.  There was some discusson on that, in fact; some people let their other dogs see the remains of one they’ve lost, thinking it helps them understand.  I was more afraid that it would traumatize her, because she has always “mothered” Zack, treating him like he is her baby.
I hope that it’s better just letting her wonder where he is and when he’s coming home.
One of us knowing the truth is more than enough.
Patrick, I’m so sorry. I’ve lost a few dogs over the years, and it is amazing how painful that loss can be. No matter how many times you might say he/she is just a dog (and even mean it), that doesn’t change the fact you love them. I’m glad you were able to be there with Zack in the end. I think for most pet owners, not being able to be there is the most painful part of all.
My condolences for your loss. Those furry critters do seem to worm their way into our hearts.
I’m so sorry Patrick. Please know that I’m thinking of you.
I am so sorry. It is so hard losing on of the furkids. My thoughts are with you and all of those who loved Zach.
I am so very sorry. It’s so hard when a pet dies…my prayers are with you and your other pup.