You look like your dog just died

There’s a reason that expression exists.

Losing a dog is a sadness so profound that it’s useless to explain to anyone who hasn’t been through it.

People ask why I’m looking sad and telling them opens the floodgates to them sharing their personal-loss stories.

Comparing personal tragedies is not a good thing.

I would never say my sadness is equal to that of anyone who’s lost a job, a home or a child.

I will say simply that in losing my best friend, my sorrow is complete.

No one, nowhere, will ever love me like my dog did.

As pet owners know, you can’t just replace your lost loved one.

Pets aren’t like cars or refrigerators.

The timing is different for everyone, but you must wait until the time is right and until then it will hurt – although a bit less each day.

This kind of loss leaves you searching for answers.

I didn’t find any.

Sharing makes nothing better.

It doesn’t replace a wet nose, a joyful face, the endless presence of love that follows you everywhere.

But still, sharing eases pain.

As in “real” life, mourning the loss of a pet doesn’t get quite the same regard as mourning the loss of a person, and perhaps it shouldn’t.

No one can tell me that right now, however.

The simple fact is dog’s have a shorter life than we do.

We have a dog, we will be there when it dies.

Uncertainty is something we use to ignore death.

The probability of death is always there, but as long as it remains a fuzzy possibility, it’s possible to ignore.

Once it becomes a certainty, there’s no way to hide.

We’re all fighting a losing battle with death, and the outcome is always the same.

Time heals all wounds.

The problem is, when things are bad time seems to stand still.

One thought on “You look like your dog just died

  1. Understood, completely! I’m a mess when it’s time to clean the shelf where Gizmo and Lucky are. I miss them both! Lucky was my rock, my big baby, no one understood, the cancer, the numerous night watches, I cried, no one cared. Lucky understood, Lucky loved me too as I did him.

    With Gizmo, it was different, he was there as a pup, went with me thru the divorce and a bitter dog-custody fight that took up a whole session in Judge Browning’s chamber, Gizmo who never cried, never complained, always listened, and never talked back. Gizmo was with me when we moved house, again and again. Gizmo was the pack leader, every other dog challenged him but lost, until the cancer took him, on May 23, 2010, Gizmo died in my arms. I love you Gizmo, I miss you and Lucky, still I repeat, wait for me at the bridge, I will come one day!

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