Memories of the Hound

The thing about owning a dog, a dog you love, is that when they leave, unless you get another one, you never quite recover from it.

It's been a year and a half since my dog of nearly 14 years left us to go to the great doggie daycare in the sky. I think of her the most during the 4th of July because that date, as well as New Year's Eve, was the worst for her. Fireworks were not her friend. 

For those who haven't owned a dog they love, I'm sorry. You're missing out on an irreplaceable feeling. It's powerful. And at times, it's too powerful. It's a feeling I wish could be replaced.

I'm in a much better place now than when she first left, but just like with people whom we love that die, you don't stop missing them because time has passed. Sure, feelings fade, memories fade, but that love - that deep, inner soul-taking love you have - will always be there.

And that's where I'm at these days. I miss her, but I'm okay.

My life looks different, not having to clean and care for her, and there's freedom in that. But her love for me is gone. I don't have to take her to the vet, and calm her nerves at all the smells and sounds, but I would trade that stress to have her back.

This recent Fourth of July was only the second since losing her that I haven't had to cower with her as the fireworks take over the neighborhood. It was always an all-night battle of dealing with her fright. It felt traumatic to both her and me. This holiday was always under a cloud of worry because of the immense fear she dealt with in the war-like sounds that pervaded the neighborhood.

I don't have to worry about that anymore. 

It took me five months to clean off her doggy drool on one particular part of our floor. This was where she would stand with her evening treat and drool, not wanting to eat it too quickly, yet still holding it in her mouth. I cleaned up that drool every day when she was alive, and complained about it. Because that's what we humans do. But after she left, I didn't want to change it; it felt like she was here as long as that drool was there. So I left it for a while. 

It took six months for me to clean the nose prints off the sliding glass door, too.

Memories of my dog are everywhere, all the time, and I can't tell you how overjoyed I am at getting to pet neighbors' dogs, family dogs, friends' dogs, and random dogs out of nowhere. 

I got to visit with a beautiful golden retriever just a few days ago, on the 4th, named Peaches. She was beautiful, old, happy, and smelled just like my golden doodle. She was heaven-sent. All I could think about when petting her was how wonderful it felt to hug her, and then, "Would she sleep tonight?"

Maybe one day I'll get a new dog. But, a part of me doesn't want to forget what I had with my dog. People say to get a new one, and yet, that doesn't bring back my old dog. It's like having a friend die and someone saying, "All you have to do is find a new friend." Well, yeah. But I want the old one back.

I'm glad to have the memories, though. My love for her and her love for me is a beautiful memory. And now, I kinda wish we still had nose prints on the window. 

If you have a pup or friend, or a family member you love, make sure you tell them. Document everything. Write things down. Take lots of photos.

Nothing is forever, but that love in our heart sure is.

No comments:

Post a Comment