Grief and The Good Dog
This is my favorite picture of Cody.
I’ve been light on the posting this week.
Sorry.
Side note: Actually, I’ve written quite a few posts, but I had to put them on hold. I’m waiting for a few confirmations etc. on my next, and very cool, big project for TheLiquidBetsy. The 90 day challenge by Modern Pilates and Bodyscapes Fitness, I’m trying to bring in a few more elements, a charity component especially. Things are looking good but nothing is firm yet. So stay tuned for that…
Meanwhile, back at the ranch… my dear husband’s grandmother passed away.
98 years old, she had lived a wonderfully full life complete with children, grand- and great-grandchildren. Although he (and I) are sad that she’s left, we cannot be distraught. She left peacefully and, really, we should all be so lucky. She (and we) were blessed.
I was most concerned with Great-grandma Del’s passing was it’s affect on my children. They’ve seen death, wakes and funerals but it always with other people’s grandparents. Not their own. And my daughter, The Toaster, was especially close. I wanted to make sure they got through this ok.
And so far, it’s been better than OK. They had a few questions, and Mr. Man said he’d miss her, but both point-blank told me it was part of life… just like with Cody.
Cody.
Ahh… Cody. Our dog that we had to put to sleep a couple of years ago. Potentially 14 years old (who knew? he was pound-procured) Cody was joy of a dog. A black furry Keeshond he was probably one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever had to pleasure to pet. Ridiculously smart. But like all things he grew old and started to deteriorate: failing eyesight, arthritis, constant pain.
A few years ago we made the very tough decision to put him down.
The twins were pre-school age and we did our best to explain the cycle of life and that Cody was now in a much happier place, chasing all the dogs and “Squirrel!” he wants in heaven. They were sad and even to this day The Toaster has a picture of Cody framed in her room.
He was a really good dog.
But now it’s Great-grandma Del. The twins are older, and they saw her fragility first hand. She was parchment to their bouncing rubber. She was tired a lot, had to be helped to walk, carried a very cool cane.
It would seem that my eldest children’s experience with Cody has softened the blow of losing their great-grandma Del. He helped give them a very good perspective, helped them deal with the grief better, and I thank him for this one last gift.
(and I am totally tearing up as I type this folks)
Again…he was a very, very good dog.
3 Responses to “Grief and The Good Dog”
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Herds three kids through life. Mainlines all things media, including questionable TV. SCUBA diver that longs to hang-ten.
Dogs are funny that way aren’t they? The way they enchant us; the way their companionship fills just the right gaps in our daily existence; the way they love so unconditionally.
Quite literally a minute or two prior to discovering this post, I was flipping through my adult daughter’s Facebook page, and came upon a picture she had taken two years ago of herself with our late Toy Fox Terrier, Squirty, and I gasped.
Squirty was 14 and-a-half and we too were forced to have her put down 17 months ago, when she developed a cancerous tumor in one of her salivary glands.
It was the humane thing to do; it was something you knew you would likely have to do someday; but it was also the one thing you never really come to grips with until that horrible time comes.
It was excruciating; unthinkably painful. Dogs become a part of your family, almost like one of your own children. Anyone who says different is either heartless or a liar. I make no apologies for that generalization.
I am so sorry for your loss — both of your husband’s precious grandmother and of your precious dog; it is no disservice to compare the two, IMO. And just because it’s “part of life” doesn’t make it any easier to take.
Hang in there, Betsy.
Very sorry for your loss. I lost my first grandparent before my first pet, and remember both fairly well. My Grandmother’s was hard to process at the age I was (maybe 5?) but my dog I lost at 13 or 14 was a terrible time. Both were reminders not to take for granted the things you love the most that are still around.
Dogs are our current grandparents as we are without the later. They look at us and question, without judging, what and why we do what our days demand. What they would do differently and still, don’t say “you REALLY should do xyz.” Thanks for the post Miss Betsy.