On Thanksgiving night in 2007, I shared a bite of pumpkin pie and whipped cream with my Brittany Spaniel, Speckles. Soon, he had trouble breathing, and I rushed him to an emergency veterinary clinic 40 miles away.
I know that he has a paralyzed larynx and slightly collapsed lungs. I knew the difficulty of breathing would be a sign that he would face death. All this happened very soon after the diagnosis.
That night at the emergency clinic, I kissed his cheek, my tears soaked his fur while he was under sedation. When he was euthanized, I told him that I loved him and that I would see him again one day. That night I left without him, driving home alone.
The next day I was faced with cleaning my car of his vomit and fur. I wept hopelessly over the remains of 12 years of marriage. He is not just a dog. He is my son, my joy – an inspiration.
Anyone who has suffered the loss of a beloved pet knows the pain that follows. You are slowly getting better and remembering the good times. You can also have a pet keepsake. I have Speckles’ ashes on a bookshelf in my living room, along with a picture of him and a clay mold of his foot. I also wrote and published a book of stories about our relationship over the years.
The truth is, I still cry at times when I miss him — tears that ignite in strange situations. The No. 1 trigger sees another Brittany. I’m always on my knees when I meet one, showering them with hugs and kisses.
For two or three years I couldn’t walk down a toy dog aisle in a store without crying. Speckles had two wicker baskets full of stuffed toys, which I donated to a local animal shelter after his passing.
A surprise trigger came the spring after Speckles died. I was raking leaves from the ornamental grasses in my backyard when I saw a bunch of her soft orange fur. I held it between my fingers and cried. I combed her long ear hair and hairy thighs many times. I would let the feather blow in the wind for the birds to use as nesting material. This particular tuft took a while, and when I picked it up, I felt the Speckles again.
A friend recently posted on Facebook how she opened a box of things that belonged to her dog that passed by. The scent of his dog wafted from a collar and made him cry.
My mom found some fur of her cat Spike after he died of cancer. She put it in a frame with one of her pictures, and that picture rests on her sewing table, where she often “talks” to him. He also refuses to remove an old shoebox from the headboard of his bed, where Spike sleeps at night.
My cat, Desdemona, loves small mice, picking them up after I throw them, carrying them around the house in her mouth while talking to them and knocking them over the kitchen floor. After he died, I put his ashes on my bookshelf with his three little mice. I couldn’t separate myself from the rats, just as I rarely could separate him from them.
Speckles loved a big stuffed moose from the time I brought him home at three months old until his death. I still have that moose, 18 years after he came into my life. The toy is missing its lower lip, horns, tail, ears, and one eye, and has been repaired countless times. But I can’t throw it away. Speckles slept with that moose and it brought comfort to my current dog, Trucker, and my cat, Jack, who loved Speckles like a brother. The moose rests in a wicker basket with Trucker toys.
I believe these triggers, although they bring pain and peace, are our pets’ angelic ways of letting us know they are okay and waiting to see us again. They send cards to say, “I love you.”
Do you keep pets’ toys or favorite things that pass by? Tell us your stories in the comments.
Read more about the bond between humans and dogs at Dogster:
Featured Image Credit: Catherine Murray, Shutterstock
