I can’t believe I’m writing this post.
I mean, I knew this is something I’d have to write about someday. But “someday”…well, that’s a pretty obscure concept, isn’t it? Someday isn’t a real day. Someday isn’t actually today. Or yesterday. Or a few days ago.
Because instead of someday, we said a sudden and heartbreaking goodbye to our dog, Raven, early in the morning hours this past Monday.
We didn’t know she was sick. One day she was fine and the next…not so much.
I know there is a sort of blessing in something like this happening so quickly. Quick means less pain, less suffering. But quick also means no time to prepare mentally or emotionally, no time to think about what on earth I’m going to say to two kids who have known and loved this dog their entire lives. No time to speculate what life–what our family–would be like without her.
Because one day we had a dog, and the next we didn’t. It’s so surreal.
I was going to write a tribute to Raven, but then I realized this post I wrote for her birthday last year kind of did it for me. And truthfully, I don’t know if I can revisit all of those memories again. It’s still so raw and painful.
Because she was a member of our family for 11 years and I loved her. And I know she loved us back, in her own special dog-like way.
And because I’ll miss the girl I called “my shadow” over the last few years, when she went from being Dr. G’s dog to more of mine, following me all over the house, wanting to be in the same room as me. I’m not going to lie, it was annoying at times, but now I’d give anything to turn around and trip over her because she had plopped herself down right behind me.
I’m so touched and blown away by the outpouring of support we’ve received from our friends, family, neighbors and those in Facebookland when I shared the sad news on my personal page on Monday afternoon. People I haven’t spoken to in more than 20 years offered their sympathy and condolences.
People didn’t react, like I kind of thought they might, that she was “just a dog.” They didn’t respond to my emotional Facebook post–something I rarely do–like I was a crazy dog lady. They reacted as if I had lost a beloved member of our family. And their thoughts and prayers felt so genuine and true, and brought some comfort in those first awful 24 hours after she passed.
Because they were awful. I can honestly say this has been my biggest parenthood challenge to date, trying to be strong for my kids, to tell them “all the right things,” whatever those are, to comfort them and answer their childlike questions (can we get another dog? what does cremation mean?) while struggling with my own overwhelming grief.
Mimi remarked that she’s never seen me cry like that before, and I’m pretty sure I freaked them out because they’ve never seen me become so unglued. So I told her crying was okay. It’s okay to be sad because we loved her and we miss her. And that seemed to make sense to her.
At almost 10, Buddy has been up and down in his grief and struggle to make sense of it. Sometimes he’s fine, running around and being crazy like normal. The next he’s coming to me in tears. So we’ve been talking a lot about her, which seems to help both of us, I think. And I tell him the same thing: it’s okay to be sad, and to be sad for a long time, because she was part of our family.
It’s so strange. The house feels eerily empty and quiet now without the jingle of her collar, the sound of her snoring noisily on her bed outside my bedroom door, her whine to be let outside or because she wanted your permission to jump up onto the couch beside you.
It’s unnerving to come home and not see her bowls, her bed, even her dog food….all things Dr. G. was kind enough to get rid of that first day (through his own grief and sadness) while I had dragged my shellshocked self to work in look for some sort of distraction.
But the one thing that didn’t get cleared out was her blanket: a blue fleece blanket with her name embroidered on it that she used to sleep on in the kitchen the last year or so. I found it in the laundry room, having washed it that last day she was with us.
I don’t think it was a coincidence the blanket was left behind. Because once I found it, Buddy asked to keep it so he could keep her close to him.
I think she would have liked that.
Jennifer says
I am so, so sorry for your loss. Pets are such a part of your family, and unfortunately, with us too little time.
Jacqui Rossetter says
So sorry for your lose hugs and prayers for you all.
Danielle Kempe says
So sorry to hear of your loss. Pets are totally family!
Sheri says
Awe Jessica, I’m so sorry for your loss. They’re our kids too….even though they’re all furry and drooly. Hugs.