Bideawee Tails from a Volunteer
"Dog's Lives are Too Short. Their Only Fault Really" (Agnes Sligh Turnbull)
by Florence Scarinci
My dog, Penni, died last month. It wasn't unexpected. She was almost 15 years old. She lived a long and, for the most part, a healthy life. She didn't have a terminal illness that kept her suffering for months. She developed a pulmonary embolism and died rather quickly. I wasn't in shock. She was old. I knew that every day with her at her age was a gift. I knew I hadn't been just lucky to have her; I was blessed. Because of her, I met new people and visited new places; I became involved in pet therapy and canine performance events; I even started a new career. But the knowledge that I was the lucky one and the satisfaction of knowing that she had lived not just a good, but a great life with me, does not patch up the giant hole in my heart.
I miss her. Although she weighed only 20 pounds, she was a giant presence in my home. There is another dog and two cats here but there is an emptiness that I cannot explain.
I miss her black and white face greeting me at the door. She knew when my car turned the corner, and she came from wherever she was napping to say "Hello, how was your day?" I miss the wagging tail that she was not supposed to have, that should have been docked within days of her birth, that tail that told me more than words ever could how happy she was that I was home. I miss my official greeter.
I miss her sitting at the entrance to the kitchen watching me chop vegetables, hoping that I would drop one. Sometimes I dropped a piece on purpose. I miss my canine vacuum cleaner.
I miss her warm body curled up at the back of my leg at night. Nights are a lot colder now. I miss my furry leg warmer.
I miss her enthusiasm for the meal she ate every morning and evening of her entire life: dry kibble and some canned food. I miss the joy with which she approached such simple things.
I miss her thorough enjoyment of any snack I was willing to share with her. She particularly liked popcorn and would catch each piece I hurled at her in midair. I miss my little fielder.
I miss her in the evening when I watch television. She was always glued to my side and never asked me to change the channel like my husband does. I miss her contentment in just being together.
I miss her following me all around the house. I don't know if it was love, separation anxiety, or her genetic imperative to keep the herd together that made her have to have me within sight all the time. Whatever the motivation, I miss her company in the laundry room, in the den, in the living room. As she got older and surgery to help repair ruptured disks made her walk slower, I wanted her to stay where she was lying, but she would not. Her nosiness or love kept her my constant companion. I miss my doggie bodyguard.
I miss her as a source of inspiration. When writer's block left the screen on my computer blank, some incident from her life would provide me with material. I miss my Muse.
I even miss her annoying habits. At any birthday party she barked and barked while we sang "Happy Birthday." Was she joining in the celebration and the good wishes or annoyed at our off-key rendition or telling us the cake was on fire? Birthdays will never be the same. I miss her barking when we hugged and kissed relatives good bye. Did she not want them to leave or did she want a share in the affection? I miss her bossiness, poking the other dogs that were not barking loud or long enough when the letter carrier came or a three year old rode a tricycle in front of the house. I miss her quirks that made me laugh.
I miss her shedding. She had a double coat that shed all year long. I have a powerful vacuum cleaner that gets less use these days. Believe it or not, I miss the chore.
I am grateful to the many friends and acquaintances and all the people at Bideawee who shared my loss, who sent me cards and emails of condolence, and who never said, "She was just a dog." She was not JUST a dog. Anyone who has ever loved and lost a special animal companion understands the depth of our relationship. To be among people who share such understanding, I will be participating in Bideawee's Pet Loss Support Group. But being a librarian, I also wanted to know what books are available on the subject of pet loss that will help in between the bimonthly Bideawee group meetings. I have also found the following books helpful in dealing with grief.
Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates, a Book of Hope for Those Who Have Lost a Pet by Gary Kurz (Citadel Press, 2008).
The Divine Life of Animals, One Man's Quest to Discover Whether the Souls of Animals Live On by Ptolemy Tompkins (Crown Publishers, 2010).
Coping with Sorrow on the Loss of Your Pet by Moira Anderson Allen (Dog Ear Publishing, 2007).
Grieving the Death of a Pet by Betty J. Carmack (Augsburg Press, 2003).
Pet Death by Sandra Helene Straub (Baywood Publishing, 2004).
Will I See My Dog in Heaven? by Jack Wintz (Paraclete Press, 2009).
Why We Love Them So, Surviving the Loss of an Animal Friend by Paul A. Keenan (iUniverse, 2008).
And for children:
Goodbye, Jake by Bam Schildkraut, illustrated by Whitney Martin (Operation-Outreach, 2007).
I'll Always Love You by Hans Wilhem (Dragon Fly Books, 1985).
I can never replace Penni. I wouldn't even try. I am not one of those people who having loved and lost, never wants to risk the happiness of love in anticipation of the pain of loss. There will be another pup in my life. It will not be her. I will not mold the new pup into her. I will discover and appreciate the new puppy's good points and laugh at the puppy's unique idiosyncrasies and through it all I will never forget Penni.
Not Just Another Pretty Face
Pet Therapy in the Classroom
Mothers and Daughters Bonding Through Bideawee
Sixth Sense
The Content of Her Character
All in a Day's Work
Size Does Not Count---or Pocket Pets as Therapy Animals
ON THE ROAD AGAIN WITH PET THERAPY
READING TO DOGS - IT WORKS!!!
BAW SENIOR DOG FOR A SENIOR
PET THERAPY - NOT JUST FOR GOLDEN RETRIEVERS ANYMORE
BIDEAWEE: A NEW VERSION OF READING TO DOGS
AN UNSCHEDULED THERAPY DOG VISIT
BIDEAWEE DOGS and CATS GO GREEN
BAD ECONOMY BAD FOR DOGS AND CATS
LIFE GOES ON: Bideawee's Pet Loss Support Group
A Therapy Dog at College Teaches Important Lessons
Part 2: ADOPTING AN OLDER DOG: Joys and Challenges
ADOPTING AN OLDER DOG: Joys and Challenges
The Cat Who Changed My Life
The Lonely Cat's Best Friends
Therapy Benefits: What's In It for Me?
