Loss

May I even suggest that losing a dog is like losing a limb.

No, some might say, that would devalue the experience of those who have actually lost a limb.

And I would say that might devalue our experience of actually losing a dog.

What both victims of loss have in common, I’m sure, is the wish that the loss could be undone.

…

Just wanted to reassure you we are still here. Futilely wishing we could unring a bell.

I suppose that for so many people for whom a dog is merely a furry little head to pat once or twice a day, but otherwise to be left in the backyard on a leash for hours on end, or inside some cage much of the day, freed only briefly when it suits its Master’s needs, then excessive emoting over the loss of a dog must seem…I don’t know, pathological.

If you think that then fine, please recommend us a treatment. I would try it. Because what we’re feeling is no good.

I don’t mean to devalue other peoples’ experiences with their dogs or their personal feelings of loss.

I only know how much time and devotion we — myself, yes, but especially Happy Wife via Harry — invested in our dogs. Was it extraordinary? Yes, I’m pretty sure it was.

We’re not seeking anyone’s praise or merit badge — being our dogs companions the past 12+ years was its own reward.

I only mention it to emphasize just how much of our time we’ve spent in the company of dogs. Hell, I once estimated conservatively that I walked/biked over 6000 miles with Rufus. A great deal of that was with Rufus and Lucy, and then more with just Lucy after Rufus died, and then a little more with just Harry.

In all that time they become part of you. Kind of like a leg, or an arm, an inseparable part of who you are.