This photo was taken the morning we had to take our yellow lab to the vet to have her put to sleep. My wife brought her over to where a few of us were, on the ocean, and let her sit in the back of the car with her ‘sister’ the black lab next to her. After everyone got to say good bye we drove her away from the place she loved, for the last time.
I cried like a baby. I still do, two days later, when I wake up and she’s not in the house, ready for a walk or a swim. We adopted her 13 years ago and she almost made it to 14 years old. She had been horribly treated before we got her and it took quite some time before she became a lovable kook. None of that is the purpose of this post, though.
How do I get so attached to an animal, a pet, a creature that doesn’t speak, at least not in a voice like mine.
I have always loved animals. Perhaps it’s because they seem to need me. Perhaps it’s because I need them. Ever since I was a little boy I have had a pretty good way about making friends with animals – it could be dogs, cats, horses, sheep, i don’t know what else…but mostly dogs and cats. It is rare that I can’t make friends with a dog. I can also tell from their eyes whether they are friendly and loving.
Once a dog comes to live with me, he/she is part of the family. My dog doesn’t go to work with me (well they do now, that I’m working at my son’s kayaking business, but not when I was in the corporate world). My dog is sad to see me go anywhere, asking if he can come with me. My dog loves to ride in the car. My dog is thrilled to see me when I get home. My wife used to be like that, and my kids used to be like that. My dog is ALWAYS like that…wiggling and wagging and ready for a hug. My dog just wants to be with me. I love that.
My dog does communicate. He senses sadness, and happiness. Yes she expected to get fed regularly, but the most important thing to my pups was the chance to be close to me. They sleep in my room, sometimes in my bed (depending on the size of the dog).
Rooney was the yellow lab we said good bye to this week. When she was young she was athletic and energetic and hilariously kooky and endlessly entertaining. As she got older, she got slower. She required more care, special foods, but still went on walks every day and expected it. She had been there for me for 13 years and she deserved the extra attention and care that she got right up to the end. She brought us joy and she deserved extra care at the end.
I was with her, touching her and telling her I loved her, until her heart stopped, on the floor of the vet’s office. I once made the mistake years ago of not being there at the very end, thinking I couldn’t bear it….and now that I look back on it, I think I was selfish. My dog deserves to see me as the last thing she sees, and know that I loved her, always will, and miss her now.
I went on the walk yesterday without her for the first time. I came across the section of mud that she insisted on padding through instead of the path…and saw her paw print. I think she left it for me.
I will get over this, and our other dogs still bring me joy and companionship, but I am sad right now. Good bye, Rooney. I love you.
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