Just today (February 23, 2003) I had some very sad news.
A friend of mine's five and one-half year old German Shepherd Dog
died of kidney failure suddenly. Her name was K.C., and she was a
silly little girl. Her mom, Rita, was working with her in obedience
training (which Rita had done for years with many GSDs), and they were
very, very, close. K.C. was a gift from her husband, on the occasion
of Rita getting her Doctorate.
Another friend has an older Beagle, who is currently in chemotherapy.
No one knows how dear little Mabel will make out with that, but
evidently our canine friends don't lose all their hair during
chemo, like we do!
My closest friend at work's favorite cat, Andy, had to be put down this
past November. I was there (as she was when I had to put
Geno down in June of 2001). It was a very sad
occasion, though Andy was very, very ill.
Just today I was walking my Blossom (red Miniature Poodle),
when I visited with a former colleague. He had tears in his eyes,
remembering his dear Sheltie, which he had lost two years ago.
All of these losses cause us untold pain - yet we continue to have
animal companions in our lives.
Why do we do this?
Why do we open ourselves to heartbreak in this way?
I can only speak from my own experience.
When I lost dear Geno, many of my friends asked me if I was going to
get another dog. I knew the answer immediately - of course! Life is too
short to deprive myself of the immense joy of the companionship of
a canine.
It was a sad, sorrowful time after Geno died. I hadn't cried so much
in years... but there was a sense of relief, as well. Geno had been
quite sick for about the last 18 months of his life, gradually becoming
more and more arthritic (and the usual veternary medicines were too
hard on his stomach). He was going deaf, blind, and was incontinent. His
quality of life had suffered greatly.
I remember waking up the morning after he had been put down to a welcome
sense of relief: relief that I did not have to struggle to find ways
to help him. It was a burden, but I would not have had it any other
way - I was his keeper, and helping him at the end of his life was
a profound privilege.
Several months after his death, another dog came into my life. Abby
belonged to a friend of mine that had moved to Australia. At the time,
we hoped that Abby could be shipped to Oz, to the life of an Outback
Dog - but then came 9/11, and the cost of shipping her became outrageous.
So she stayed with me for a while, and I got used to having a canine
around once again...
Then, in April, I found my dear sweet Blossom! Actually, I had been looking for a poodle since the previous October, and had located the breeder I wanted to buy from, Sandra Manning of Sandman Poodles. She had a new litter in March, but I had fallen in love with her show girl, Sandman's Blossom. I brought Ms. B home on the 13th - and it has been an adventure for both of us.
Unfortunately, Abby and Blossom did not get along too well. I was quite lucky to find a home for Abby just 3 houses over - so I still get to see her (and her new boyfriend, the 11-year-old Alaskan Malamute, Max).
I cannot express the fun, joy, and delight I get from this new canine
relationship. Blossom is so much fun, and even though she was eighteen
months old when I acquired her, she has bonded to me exclusively. She
has had to learn how to relate to a human, as well as to be housebroken,
and has learned her lessons well.
From the moment I brought her home she has had me laughing every day.
That laughter has been so, so healing - helping me resolve my grief
over losing dear Geno. It sounds funny to say, but I'm sure that he
would absolutely want me to be happy with Blossom! Not that he would have
liked her if he was still around - he was incredibly jealous if I gave
attention to any other dog - but since he's no longer here, guarding
my heart, as it were, he'd be happy to know that Ms. B is doing that
work admirably well.
I realize that I haven't actually answered my question above, "Why do
we do this?". In my case, perhaps it's because I live alone. Or maybe
it's because I have no children, but still have the urge to nurture.
Or maybe, just maybe, I need whatever it is that my canine companions
have to give - or that I have what they need.
More likely, it's just that the joy and fun and love that I give and
receive from my canine friend simply outweighs the tears and grief
of their passing.
One thing has changed for me, through experiencing Geno's life and passing - I will never take any animal that I live with for granted. Their lives are so much shorter than ours; I will make the most of every day that I'm blessed to have with my dear sweet ones.