Puppy Love

On Thursday, close to the end of my work day, I overhead my co-worker talking to her mom. She was crying (my co-worker, that is) and said, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” After a bit more of the conversation, I deduced that a pet had died.

It turned out I was right. When Sherry got off the phone, I asked if she was okay, and she said no, her dad’s dog had died that day. Sherry’s dad passed away four years ago, and I immediately flashed back to the time my stepdad’s cat died, eight years after his death. It was like losing the final connection to him, and brought back all the pain of the night he left us.

I don’t know if Sherry experienced the same kind of grief, but I imagine there was a lot of emotion. She told me the story of the day she got the dog, the runt of the litter, and surprised her dad with this teeny puppy. Tears rolled down his eyes when he first laid eyes on his new baby. For the next year this man, a farmer, carried that dog in the pocket of his overalls.

I felt compelled to do something to show I cared, so I got up early Friday morning and bought some flowers at the local supermarket. Nothing fancy, by any means, but I put them on her desk so she saw them first thing this morning. She didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. Life goes on.

It’s funny what losing a pet can do to us. When my mom lost her beloved dog, Mishi, she cried and cried for days. The three of us kids, all teenagers, got a little irritated. It seem unlikely that she would cry that much for any of us, we said, not at all joking. I know now my mom would grieve any of the three of us much more than she would a dog, but at the time we didn’t feel loved. At least not as much as she cared for that dog.

When I lost Paco, I felt guilt and relief along with my grief. Guilt because I hadn’t realized how hard the previous year had been on him with his failing health. The vet told me it was likely his system had been shutting down for some time. I know cats are good at hiding pain, and I think Paco hid his from me, not deliberately, but because that’s what cats do. The relief came because in his last few weeks I knew I was losing him, and finally reaching that point allowed me to take a deep breath and move on. But I cried and missed him terribly. It took a long time for me to remember the good times and to let go of my guilt. I hope I can take what I learned from Paco and keep Walter and Mimi from experiencing the same.

When I was in high school, we lost our cat Gabriel. I went to my youth pastor in tears, asking if cats went to heaven. A few months later he told this story to the entire youth group, mocking my tears and making fun of my question. While he didn’t name me, I knew who he was talking about. He caught my eye and seemed surprised to see me in attendance. Or surprised by something. I never trusted him again.

When I lost my stepdad, I went to my pastor (fifteen years later and a different church) and he warned me that some people would likely say stupid things. I thought back to that youth pastor. I hope he learned his lesson. I’ve been aware ever since that I could be the one to say something insensitive.

I know of some people who say, “it’s just a dog. Get another one!” Yes, I’ve heard them say it. But those of us who love our pets know it’s something more.

Image Credit: Schnauzer puppy © Lunja–stock.adobe.com; Tabby Cat illustration © Victoria–stock.adobe.com