.Days 100-105: To those who are following this writing, all handful of you, I apologize for the big gap in communication. But in these few days I’ve been given the opportunity to learn a lot about myself and other things along the way.
Today I learned that if you google ‘grieving the loss of a dog’ you will find 703,000 URLs that will take you to sites selling tombstones, sites selling jewelry, and some insights into loss. My dog Truman has died.
Every dog in my life, except Truman, has been a rescue dog. I was a toddler feeding Cheerios to the stray dogs a neighbor rescued. In Pennsylvania, where I grew up, it’s still legal to shoot your dog for no good reason. The law says ‘without malice’ but I’m not sure how you shoot a poodle without malice. Anyway. The list is lengthy and includes 6 German shepherd puppies headed for the drowning pool who ended up becoming seeing-eye dogs thanks to my mother’s quick thinking. There was a neighbor’s beaten, broken dog who I stole with the complicity of a friend. He lived out his life on a farm, guarding the kitchen door. There was Dugan, who came into my life with his owner’s son in tow. He opened the door to my heart for dogs after a long, dry spell. I lived with him in the winter of his life and loved him through his death. After he died, about 6 weeks passed and I had a recurring dream. (If this is too, woo-woo for you, oh well.) Dugan ran toward me, would stop, and then run back the way he had come. One night, in the dream, he ran forward with a yellow puppy. A month or so passed and for the first time ever, I got a dog, a pure breed dog, who was not lost or abused and had not been named by anyone else. I thought he was my indulgence. He was not. He was a teacher and friend who showed me so much.
The lessons are about optimism, being present, thin skinned/thick skinned, just being and letting go, remembering the future, silence and the importance of weakness. I’m going to write about this. I am going to get through it.