Ding died this past Tuesday. Ding was my first ever dog. She was the one living being I wanted more than anything else in the world. My earliest memory is of wanting a dog. I got Ding in April of 2001. She was about 10 months old, maybe older, who knows she was a rescue and there wasn’t a lot of info about her. And yes I did have a lot of years with her, I know that, she was a dog and they just don’t live all that long (certainly not long enough).
I’ve gone through a lot of emotions this week (obviously). We have two other dogs that still needed to be fed and cared for so as attractive as it seemed to curl up in a fetal position with Ding’s collar and cry until there was nothing left; that wasn’t an option.
I asked myself why we have pets if we know we have to face this in the end. I mean there was a moment when I looked at the other two and thought, “I’ll RE-HOME THEM! I’ll never have to see them sick or dying, they’ll just go away…” That’s ridiculous. There’s no chance that could happen.
The many, many horrible animal abuse stories we see every damn day on Facebook and in the news ran through my head. Now that my husband and I had held my beloved Ding as she left this world it really made me wonder what kind of creature could abuse an animal when we stood there together as our hearts broke with our loss. It made abuse so much worse to me because it de-humanized the abusers for me; completely and totally removed their humanity in my eyes.
And then I knew that dogs (and cats), our pets make us more human. They bring out all our emotions and still stand by us. They make us feel things to the core of our beings in ways that other humans just can’t.
Ding made me laugh and cry, she made me angry sometimes and sometimes she just listened as I poured out my anger after a frustrating day. She never complained. She was beautiful, she had the softest ears. She caught Frisbees, I loved that.
Interestingly though, I don’t know anyone that can say anything different about THEIR pet(s). Each animal has their own distinct personality but they also all share what they give back to us; the ability to stretch fully into being human.
I never wanted to see the day come when Ding would leave me. Never; and now that she’s gone the past several days have seemed fuzzy, surreal, I don’t have many clear memories of each day. My brain is playing tricks on me to try to protect my shattered heart but the fact remains that she most certainly has left this world.
My husband has said that he thought a few times he’s heard her bark in the night and thought he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, so have I, she’s there you know, she’s just at the fringe of “being”.
I’ve done breed specific rescue since 2008 or 2009, I don’t even remember anymore, it’s just that thing I do. It’s that place where I’ve made a whole “other” set of friends who “get” me in a new and different way. It’s that place where we can celebrate our successes and mourn our losses together. Ding even brought me this area of my life. She got me to this group, to this place, to these fine and wonderful people. And doing rescue makes me more human. Doing rescue has helped me define my own boundaries while also pushing a little at my comfort zone. I’ve learned how not to over promise and how to honestly deliver what I do promise. Funny that all my years in the corporate world never taught me these simple truths I learned doing rescue. We can’t save them all no matter how much we want to; and we definitely want to.
Since Ding’s loss I’ve been treated so warmly by so many people. My co-workers have been amazing, my boss sat with me on my first day back in the office and shared my grief, my friends far and wide have said kind, wonderful things, hell, the folks I know only through the bar where I hang out, literally my neighborhood watering hole, all sat around last night sharing their own stories, people I normally only argue politics with or debate the jukebox choices were now telling me about their pets and the losses and the joys they experienced. Wow. Strangers were even eager to share and as my heart broke more and more it also soared with the value of what dogs, pets, bring to our lives. There is just no comparison.
It’s truly astonishing that so many have been so willing to give a hug and share their own stories, it’s made them more human to me. What an amazing gift a 40-pound dog has given me. How does anyone ever re-pay something like that?
My house feels empty with just the two blue dogs here. They don’t bark as much, they barely bark at all which is so strange, so QUIET but they are who they are, they each have their own personalities and also their own grief, a grief they can’t even tell me about so where I get to see friends and share hugs and tell the story of my sadness these two other dogs have each other to communicate with and us to stand by them unquestioningly. And stand by them we will, as they too grow old, as they change into old dogs, we’ll be right here with them and we’ll be more human for having them in our lives.
My friends have told me that I’ll never stop missing Ding but that the hurt will change over time. It’s amazing to know that all these people in my life who have lost pets still feel that loss years later, if that isn’t humanizing then what is? And here we are, caring for them, walking them, playing with them, and loving them. Mostly loving them.
Ding girlie, I’ll miss you every single day and I’m grateful for the person you’ve helped me to be; the imperfect human I am was made just a bit better because you were with me for all those years. I’ll never say good-bye because you’ll always be a part of me.
I’ve gone through a lot of emotions this week (obviously). We have two other dogs that still needed to be fed and cared for so as attractive as it seemed to curl up in a fetal position with Ding’s collar and cry until there was nothing left; that wasn’t an option.
I asked myself why we have pets if we know we have to face this in the end. I mean there was a moment when I looked at the other two and thought, “I’ll RE-HOME THEM! I’ll never have to see them sick or dying, they’ll just go away…” That’s ridiculous. There’s no chance that could happen.
The many, many horrible animal abuse stories we see every damn day on Facebook and in the news ran through my head. Now that my husband and I had held my beloved Ding as she left this world it really made me wonder what kind of creature could abuse an animal when we stood there together as our hearts broke with our loss. It made abuse so much worse to me because it de-humanized the abusers for me; completely and totally removed their humanity in my eyes.
And then I knew that dogs (and cats), our pets make us more human. They bring out all our emotions and still stand by us. They make us feel things to the core of our beings in ways that other humans just can’t.
Ding made me laugh and cry, she made me angry sometimes and sometimes she just listened as I poured out my anger after a frustrating day. She never complained. She was beautiful, she had the softest ears. She caught Frisbees, I loved that.
Interestingly though, I don’t know anyone that can say anything different about THEIR pet(s). Each animal has their own distinct personality but they also all share what they give back to us; the ability to stretch fully into being human.
I never wanted to see the day come when Ding would leave me. Never; and now that she’s gone the past several days have seemed fuzzy, surreal, I don’t have many clear memories of each day. My brain is playing tricks on me to try to protect my shattered heart but the fact remains that she most certainly has left this world.
My husband has said that he thought a few times he’s heard her bark in the night and thought he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, so have I, she’s there you know, she’s just at the fringe of “being”.
I’ve done breed specific rescue since 2008 or 2009, I don’t even remember anymore, it’s just that thing I do. It’s that place where I’ve made a whole “other” set of friends who “get” me in a new and different way. It’s that place where we can celebrate our successes and mourn our losses together. Ding even brought me this area of my life. She got me to this group, to this place, to these fine and wonderful people. And doing rescue makes me more human. Doing rescue has helped me define my own boundaries while also pushing a little at my comfort zone. I’ve learned how not to over promise and how to honestly deliver what I do promise. Funny that all my years in the corporate world never taught me these simple truths I learned doing rescue. We can’t save them all no matter how much we want to; and we definitely want to.
Since Ding’s loss I’ve been treated so warmly by so many people. My co-workers have been amazing, my boss sat with me on my first day back in the office and shared my grief, my friends far and wide have said kind, wonderful things, hell, the folks I know only through the bar where I hang out, literally my neighborhood watering hole, all sat around last night sharing their own stories, people I normally only argue politics with or debate the jukebox choices were now telling me about their pets and the losses and the joys they experienced. Wow. Strangers were even eager to share and as my heart broke more and more it also soared with the value of what dogs, pets, bring to our lives. There is just no comparison.
It’s truly astonishing that so many have been so willing to give a hug and share their own stories, it’s made them more human to me. What an amazing gift a 40-pound dog has given me. How does anyone ever re-pay something like that?
My house feels empty with just the two blue dogs here. They don’t bark as much, they barely bark at all which is so strange, so QUIET but they are who they are, they each have their own personalities and also their own grief, a grief they can’t even tell me about so where I get to see friends and share hugs and tell the story of my sadness these two other dogs have each other to communicate with and us to stand by them unquestioningly. And stand by them we will, as they too grow old, as they change into old dogs, we’ll be right here with them and we’ll be more human for having them in our lives.
My friends have told me that I’ll never stop missing Ding but that the hurt will change over time. It’s amazing to know that all these people in my life who have lost pets still feel that loss years later, if that isn’t humanizing then what is? And here we are, caring for them, walking them, playing with them, and loving them. Mostly loving them.
Ding girlie, I’ll miss you every single day and I’m grateful for the person you’ve helped me to be; the imperfect human I am was made just a bit better because you were with me for all those years. I’ll never say good-bye because you’ll always be a part of me.
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