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My “Furrever” Friend

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Dearest Sir Dylan,

Today we say goodbye. You’ll be joining your sister soon. I know you’ve been missing her. We all have.

You were our first dog together and we had so much to learn about dog-parenting. Thanks for being patient with us, but gently letting us know when we needed to do certain things… like that day I went to bed to nap off a migraine and you let us know you were essential on our bed, especially if I didn’t feel well. You were right. No dogs on the bed was a silly rule.

We adopted you into our lives because Robert wanted a dog. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure at first, but you let me know early on that you were also an essential protector as well as healer. How in the world had I been answering the front door before you had come into our lives? Certainly it was only a matter of time before someone with a package, wearing a uniform or a hat (or a uniform with a hat), or a kid selling magazine subscriptions was going to murder me if you hadn’t been there standing between us, immovable. Once you knew you could herd Girl Scouts they were ok. By the way, it was a nice touch when you raised up on your hind legs like a bear and put up your Wookie arms in the long window next to the front door. One time a delivery person actually just threw my package towards the door from the walkway and ran off.

You’ve been extra lovable since we had to say goodbye to MJ. I just wish you had been comfortable enough, physically, to put that love into cuddles more often. But that’s the problem: you haven’t been able to get comfortable for some time now, and pacing is the only thing that seems to help. But those back legs just aren’t moving like they’re supposed to anymore.

Knowing when it was time to let your sister go was hard, but now with you, it’s been nearly impossible. You’ve lived a long, happy life with us. We were worried about how you would do without MJ. It hasn’t been the same since. You’ve been more lonely and depressed. So have we. Thank you for sticking around for almost a full year after her passing to make sure we would be ok.  We will…eventually. You’ll both always be part of us, but we’ll keep missing you both forever. Eventually we’ll have more dogs, and we’ll love them. But you’ll always have been our first and most alpha of our dogs. Just as you walked into a pet store or dog park and ruled the place without having to do anything but be there, you ruled our hearts immediately. Thank you for giving us thirteen of your fourteen years and for being part of our family. You have given us so many cherished memories and all of your love.

You really haven’t been able to hear me sing to you for a while now, but here’s our song, one last time.

 

The Blanket of Longing

In the state between sleep and awake, I let the blanket cover over my face, keeping out the threat of reality and a new day outside my bed, like blackout curtains keeping out the sun. I contemplated what may be waiting for me. It had not been good as of late, and I wanted to stay in bed and ignore it all. Then I heard the reminder that I was needed and my self pity would have to be closed into a tiny container and placed under the bed for another time.

My girl needed me. Not the human girl I had loved and was now forbidden to see, but the four-legged girl who stirred in the corner of the bedroom. The one who couldn’t understand why her little human girl no longer came to see her. The one who checked the empty pink bedroom every day, and her eyes always asked me if she would ever see her two-legged puppy again. I didn’t know how I could make my sick dog understand something I did not understand myself. But she felt my pain. She always did. And I needed that.

Almost a month had gone by since our relationship with the human girl had been severed, and just a few, excruciatingly long days had passed since we found out our fur baby had a cancer that could not be cured. Losing both my girls… well, getting out of bed each day now required me to muster all the strength I could. These girls loved each other and needed each other, and they might never see each other again.

But I needed to shower the girl I still had with as much love as I could during the time we had left together. So I lifted the blanket.

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I very recently read How Dogs Love: A Neuroscientist and His Adopted Dog Decode the Canine Brain by Gregory Berns. There are so many reasons for me to recommend the book, but the following excerpt captured perfectly for me the essence of the entire book.

The defining trait of dogs, therefore, is their interspecies social intelligence, an ability to intuit what humans and other animals are thinking. Wolves do this to hunt prey. But dogs evolved their social intelligence into living with other species instead of eating them. Dogs’ great social intelligence means that they probably have a high capacity for empathy. More than intuiting what we think, dogs may also feel what we feel. Dogs have emotional intelligence. Just like people, if dogs can be happy, then surely they can be sad and lonely.

Throughout the Dog Project, I had been struck by how perfectly dogs and humans complemented each other. Humans, even with our powerful brains and capacity for abstract thought, are still slaves to our emotions, which dogs pick up on and resonate with. And the most powerful emotion of all is love. Despite the complexities of human relationships, the fundamental attribute of love is empathy. To love, and be loved, is to feel what another feels and have that returned. It really is that simple… People become intensely attached to their pets… This is why it hurts so much when we lose them.