Saying goodbye...
People say, "It's only a dog."
"It doesn't have feelings like we do."
They say that because a dog will love someone, even if that someone is terrible to them, they must be dumb. I say it's because they believe there is good in everyone- they're just waiting for it to show up.
"It doesn't have feelings like we do."
"What are you getting all worked up about? Just let it go."
They look at you, and they don't understand. Call you crazy, say you are just making up for not having children, or call you "the cat lady" or worse.
They don't get it. I used to try and explain it, try to get them to understand.
Now, I just pity them.
They've never known that kind of love. Unconditional, devoted, one of a kind love.
They've never looked into a dog's eyes and seen a glimpse of something much better than we are. Never judging, ever. Peace, kindness, trust and love unfeigned. No pretense, no act put on to look good. Nothing fake or insincere... just purity, goodness and a gentle nature that surely comes from a God given soul.
They say that because a dog will love someone, even if that someone is terrible to them, they must be dumb. I say it's because they believe there is good in everyone- they're just waiting for it to show up.
Of course, by now you know why I'm writing. Writing is what I do when I am in pain, when I am suffering grief and can't do anything else but cry and write.
On Wednesday I had to put down my companion of 10 years. Ironic that picture above of her and Diane our cat. Ironic that it's the two I've lost, both within a year.
We got Tequila from a man who was dating a friend of mine. He said he wanted to get settled in his new place, then he would come and get her. We didn't know anything about her, so we put her outside near a shed on a tie out. She seemed to be a pleasant dog, she was quiet and nice.
We got Tequila from a man who was dating a friend of mine. He said he wanted to get settled in his new place, then he would come and get her. We didn't know anything about her, so we put her outside near a shed on a tie out. She seemed to be a pleasant dog, she was quiet and nice.
After the first bag of food was dropped off, her owner disappeared and we never saw him again.
Tequila's endless pacing and staring down the road at where his car had vanished were the last straw for me and in the house she came. One night, looking so forlorn at the loss of her owner I couldn't bear it, I invited her up on the couch where I was laying. She didn't want to get on the couch, she knew she shouldn't, but I managed to coax her up and we lay there together for hours bonding. That did it.
I soon found out what a wonderful dog she was, well trained- very obedient, Tequila became my dog, and I told my friend if her boyfriend ever showed up for her I would call the police, he didn't own a dog anymore.
Tequila quickly became a member of our family, she tolerated the cats, never went after the alpacas, and was all together perfect. My son Cameron loved her greatly. He would even greet her sometime before me after being gone! Excellent watch dog, always let us know if someone, or something was here that wasn't us.
She had two litters of pups from the boxer down the canyon who managed to get into her pen somehow and knock her up while we were gone one day. He used to sit on my porch staring onto the house and whining for her...
Everyone wanted her puppies, they were so good, and they went fast. After the second litter we had people lined up for more. One lady who had taken 2 of them brought them up several times to show us, and asked us repeatedly if we were going to breed her again. But we got her fixed. Perhaps even then the cancer had started, because the vet said her uterus literally fell apart in her hands when it was removed.
The greatest gift she gave me was one of her pups- my Fatty Lumpkins. You can see him in the silly hat on the left with his momma. He is the dog of my heart, and I treasure him. Without him now, I simply could not bear being parted from my friend.
He is grieving now, this 'dumb animal without feeling' cried Friday night while he lay next to me.
He looks for her... we look for her to come home. He paces, he whines, he lays on her bed- he would never lay on her bed, only on his- and he doesn't eat.
There is an empty place in our hearts and our home.
I feel blessed to have had this precious animal in my life. I am glad I was there for she who comforted me so often in my life, at the end of hers. To hold her head in my lap, and tell her how much she meant to me, and how I loved her. To look into her eyes one last time.
My darling girl, I miss you so. I will never forget you. Thank you for being in my life, I hope to live a live worthy enough to be reunited with you someday. Until then, wait for me....
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play.
There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. Her bright eyes are intent; her eager body quivers. Suddenly she begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, her legs carrying her faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face, your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together...
Author unknown