Most people handle a loss by moving on and replacing what they lost with something similar. When their relationships fall apart, they find someone else to date, and when their pets die they go adopt a new one. People seem insensitive. My beloved brave best beagle boy was incredibly sensitive to me. He didn't care what car I drove, only that I took him with me. He didn't care how I looked, only how I looked at him. He didn't care how much money I earned, only that I shared what I had with him. He didn't care where we were as long as we were together. He is quite possibly the greatest blessing God ever gave me. I still thank God each day for my Saturn and my beagle as I have for several years now each morning. I honor his memory. I felt God's love through how that dog treated me, and so I honor the memory of my friend by taking time to think about him, to focus on his contribution to my life, and of how he took care of me. It is said that we make time for, take pictures of and write about those things and people that matter to us. Well, I guess it's fitting that, in this current drought of scribblings, I write about and share pictures of a dog I loved and who mattered to me a great deal. Nobody knew more about my flaws, and nobody cared less, and that's why this feels like such a loss to me.
I sense a desire in most people for me to move on already. Most people blithely express sympathy for my loss and then ask when I'm going to get a new dog. I think it's a little early to replace him since I really loved him. Maybe that's because they didn't care about what they lost as much as I care about what I lost. You can't replace him. There will never be another dog like that. Not that I might not get another awesome buddy, but he was unique. I could not have found a better dog if I picked him out of a catalogue. He contributed so much to my life, to each day, to each week, to each season, to the holidays, in good times and in bad, on sunny days and in rain storms. He was there. I let him into my life, and in doing so I feel like I allowed the Savior into my life to provide what I needed and to use my beagle to touch my heart and feel of His love.
Very few people seem interested in or concerned with me. Well, I'm ok, thanks for asking, but I'm not fine at all. A huge part of my life simply ceased to exist. My female student worker asked me if I got some sun one week because I was red from crying, because I miss him. He absolutely loved me absolutely. He fought to stay because HE cared about me. My parents like to, to their credit, reminisce about positive happy memories. They know that helps. My mom understands that this dog was as close to family as you can get without being blood. Rarely does anyone ask if I'm ok. I'm just supposed to suck it up and soldier on without my best friend in the whole world. How would you feel if I told you to suck it up when you lost someone you loved? yes, I know he was just a dog, but he was MY dog, and he was there for 16 years, faithful to the end, and I feel the loss every day for some period of time or another. According to my fitbit I sleep all night, but I have only really rested once in the month since he died. I'm exhausted. He fought to stay because he was worried about me, because he knew that when he died I would be alone, literally. This dog took care of me, and I appreciate his concern for my welfare up to the end.
Some wonder why I don't move or toss out everything. I have a new hiking buddy who told me blithely that I ought to sell my house and move. Easy for him to say; he won't be packing up, finding a new place, or paying the mortgage. In fact, he's essentially a nomad himself, having not lived anywhere for more than a year or two since he finished college. I bought the house in 2010 in part for the dog. It had a dog door and a yard that was "enough" for him to stretch his legs, sniff around and explore when I got back to the house in the evening. The downstairs was all tile to make it easier to clean up after him. Yes, I have places in my house that remind me of him, and I have not disturbed some of them for now, because I feel like removing them shows I don't care about him. In fact, I printed a bunch of pictures, and I'll hang them this week or put the rest in an album so that when I feel like it I can look back at pictures of him that remind me of the good times and better times without having to turn on the computer and without seeing pictures that are not happy. This was our place. He's always welcome there as long as I'm there, and I want it that way. I like thinking about him, because thinking about him reminds me of the virtues of my beagle, of the love I felt from him in the days of trouble.
Growing up, they taught me at church that one of the most important things we could do was remember. Accordingly, I have a new day to commemorate- his birthday. I will always be grateful that my beagle was born, that my ex wife bought him for me, that my parents gave him a place when I got custody until I had a place for us, that we lived 8.5 years in this house together, and for the last two years, which might be the best two years of my life. I have no desire to move on, forget him, to move away, or to purge my life of signs that he lived. My dog will always go with me, in my memory, and in the ways in which I was changed by his presence in my life. For two years at least, I rose each day to happy noises of a dog who loved me stirring, and then I returned from work to find him greet me on the staircase, and I apologized to nobody. I still do the things we did together, because I was going to do them anyway, and because doing them with him made them better. I learned with certitude through him that life truly is greater when you share it with someone that you love. Thank you, good buddy, for everything. I'll see you soon.
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