Day 1427-Day 1433
Last night, a member of the extended family was put down. She was a 3 year old husky, and she wasn’t my dog, but without my knowing it, she had become a member of not just ‘the’ family but of MY family. I’ve never had a pet – well, not a pet with a personality – do goldfish count? My friend TCBC says that fish have personalities and I told her that it is limited to swimming, turning, surfacing, diving, eating, and the dreaded one: floating.
Growing up, for some reason, we were not allowed to have pets. I guess my mother had enough to manage with 3 children so widely spaced apart in age and with my father spending all of his time in the office. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was little and so I guess feeding and caring for a dog would have cut into the budget as well. I really don’t know why we weren’t allowed to have a pet, but we weren’t. And having known the dog R- that belonged to someone else but became a part of my family, I wish that had not been the case.
When I heard that she had been put down, I was shocked. I can’t believe that I will never see her again. I know it must be a thousand times harder for the one whose pet she was, and for the part time caretaker that took R- during exam times and holidays. But, even though she wasn’t my pet, I loved her. I will miss having her run to the door, her tongue hanging out and pouncing all 200 pounds of her puppy physique onto me. She loved everyone and was the friendliest dog I’ve known. She was an office dog and I’m pretty sure that those who ‘worked’ with her will miss her as well. She had a personality that made you just want to treat her to the world. She exuded joy.
I’m grateful to her for warming me up to the canine world, and for her care when I slipped on the ice, one winter. She stood guard over me until I was safely up and away from danger. And I’m grateful for the friendship she provided to everyone who knew her. If I am feeling the loss, I can’t imagine what those who knew her better than I, will be feeling. I know that they had, at times, a feeling of spiritual connection, a kind of oneness that comes with interspecies communication.
Because she isn’t my dog, I’m surprised at how sad I am today. TCBC texted me this morning, that in some ways, losing an animal is worse than losing a person. It has something to do with the fact that the love between you is unconditional. R- never cared if I was wearing hip shoes or had my hair done. She didn’t care if I weighed more than I should or if I was a slow walker. She was a breed that wanted to run but whenever I was with her, she’d keep looking for me to make sure I was able to keep up with her. She loved with enthusiasm the way that children can love with enthusiasm. She was well treated and so her heart was open wide. There was never judgement or aggression and she never competed with you for air time. She did, however, like to watch you eat, hoping for a little morsel and to sprawl on the sofa, leaving you a little armchair – until she decided that the armchair was cozier.
Her love was unconditional. And that inspired others to love her back.
There are few places in life where one truly experiences unconditional love. Mothers are supposed to have unconditional love for their children but unfortunately, mothers often don’t live up to this. In romance, we often say we will love one another forever, come what may. But all we need to do is look at the divorce rate to see that is not the case. The only unconditional love I can think of at the human level is a kind of agape love – a non specific universal love for all of mankind. That I have experienced and am able to say I can achieve. But personal love, that is unconditional? I’m not sure I have ever experienced it.
She had a short life but she gave us all that experience of being loved completely and without judgement. And she gave everyone who met her the chance to get to know her endearing and playful personality. We all loved her. I sometimes wonder why bad things happen and what is the purpose and meaning in it. She was certainly just out of puppy hood and nobody would have expected her to fall ill. I don’t know what the purpose of this sad event is, but what I can say is that she lived a life of purpose by being a good companion to her owner and to her caretaker and giving them the love that they needed at a particular time in their lives. I lived overseas for half of her life and didn’t spend much time with her except at holidays and for the occasional walk. I probably knew her the least of the whole family. But I have been surprised by how deeply I have felt her passing and how much I wish I could have one more joyous greeting at the door. I’d rub her belly and whisper, in her one floppy ear, that I loved her. I am grateful to R- for bringing that which is unconditional into the lives of all who knew her.