Gone, but never forgotten...
I may as well state this in advance: this is not going to be a humorous or scathing or satiracle sort of post. I don't feel witty tonight. It's probably rather hard to imagine this is hitting me now. But then, this isn't really hitting me now for the first time; it's an emotion that has been quietly there with me for the past few months and every so often I feel it raise up from no where. I'm referring to having lost the family pet. Rather odd, it hitting me now. Odd because I am getting hit again by a bit of sadness over a loss from nearly 6 months ago.
Probably a few of you noticed or heard about it then. Back on March 5th our family pet, an Airedale by the name of Daisy May, passed away. She'd not suffered a long, debilitating disease, but had developed something that could have hurt her long term. It wasn't really the type of thing that could easily be operated on, and even if they tried, they might have done her more in the way of harm. She was a great dog. She didn't deserve that.
I have a lot of memories of her; more than I do of the previous two family dogs, mostly because I was older when we got her than with the first, and she lived a full life, as compared to the 2nd who didn't even live to her third birthday. We brought her home just a little while before I'd started High School. Given that I am now 27 years old, you can get the idea of how long we had her - nearly 13 years she was a part of our lives and our family. I remember the times my parents came to visit me at school and brought her with them. I jokingly referred to her as my "chick magnet". Women love dogs. At least, most women do. And Daisy was a playful and happy camper so she easily attracted attention. I never actually did meet any women that way, but in the end, it wasn't really about that - it was just nice to see someone who was happy to see me... and if my parents were happy, she was ecstatic.
I remember taking her sometimes for rides with me at night during my summer breaks. That was always enjoyable. If she hadn't gone to bed in mom's room, I'd call her over, put on her leash and drive in mom's Nissan Sentra and go for a ride with her looking out the windows in the back. A lot of the time we ended up driving to Depew to the Amtrak station and watching the trains go by. Friday night's were especially enjoyable the one summer. We would wait for the Lake Shore Limited to come in from New York around 1:30 and the one engineer was always coming off his engine and sometimes had a treat for her. She loved all the engineers she saw, but that one she liked especially.
In fact, she seemed so comfortable with trains that I once took her to Arcade to see how she'd behaving around the steam engine the railroad has. Amazingly, she didn't flinch or act remotely scared of it. She even got to go for a ride. I helped her on board and she road in the coach next to me all the way to Curriers, and then out onto the Gondola (in the rain) to look at the steam engine. It was odd, but she loved it.
After I moved out on my own, I had her over just twice. Once she stayed with me overnight on Easter weekend in 2006. Later that summer, when my sister came to visit, I kept her with me one night so she wouldn't wake up my nephew, who wasn't even 1 year old yet. It was wonderful to have a dog nearby at night. She slept quietly at the foot of my bed the whole night and was wonderful company the next day.
Sadly, I never got to have her stay here again. I wish I could have. On the 4th of March, she was having some problems. Very minor, it seemed. She had occasional blood drops showing up on her paw, and at first mom and dad thought she might be bleeding a bit from her mouth (they found a bit on her tongue) and then after that her paw. During the day, I finally realized it was coming from her mouth. We weren't worried at first. She was older and for all we knew she might just have a cold and have a dried out nose... and sometimes that happens, but it was nothing to get alarmed over. So that night, before I left, I gave her a customary kiss on the head and told her I'd see her next week.
No, it wasn't a cold. It was a tumor somewhere back behind her nose. It wasn't completely inoperable, but the amount of potential pain she could end up going through without a high chance for success didn't seem worth it - and again, we didn't want to risk having her suffer. It wouldn't have been fair, it wouldn't have been right to make her suffer for our selfishness. So I didn't get to see her next week. I got a note from my parents, who had tried to reach me by phone, that Daisy had been taken to an emergency vetrinarians office and the decision was made to put her to sleep. And like that, she was gone.
6 months now, and I'm still not really over it. I still come over to my parents and expect to be greated by Daisy. I still eat dinner with them and expect to have a black nose push up and into my wrist, sniffing for mom's home made spaghetti, or a piece of pizza crust (an all time favorite for her) or something else. I still prepare to ask my parents if they need me to watch her when they go out of town. I still thinking about taking another trip on the A & A with her. And then I remember - I can't. Because she is gone.
I don't know why, though, but I sometimes wonder how gone she really is. I swear I've been over at the house and I've heard her walking around. I am certain I have looked at the garage when I back out of their driveway in the evening and see her putting her paws up on the screen, as if she's trying to say, "Do you have to go?" I still sometimes roll over at night in my apartment and swear that she's here, strange as it seems when she wasn't here often at all. But maybe it's not so strange. Maybe she's still there, watching over my family and watching over me. Maybe she's still here to protect us and comfort us, as only a pet can do.
Most of the time, religion would have us believe that humans have souls, because we're God's chosen race, or because we are sentient, but that no other animal of creation does. I don't believe that. I believe all animals have a soul - I believe Daisy does. And as much as I miss her, every time I feel a bit of comfort, even being alone, I am reminded that Daisy's is still here, and is watching out for and over me.
If you took the time to read this, rest assured, I do have more humorous or ranting things to say, but I really needed to get this off my chest, and I thank you for reading it over.
Probably a few of you noticed or heard about it then. Back on March 5th our family pet, an Airedale by the name of Daisy May, passed away. She'd not suffered a long, debilitating disease, but had developed something that could have hurt her long term. It wasn't really the type of thing that could easily be operated on, and even if they tried, they might have done her more in the way of harm. She was a great dog. She didn't deserve that.
I have a lot of memories of her; more than I do of the previous two family dogs, mostly because I was older when we got her than with the first, and she lived a full life, as compared to the 2nd who didn't even live to her third birthday. We brought her home just a little while before I'd started High School. Given that I am now 27 years old, you can get the idea of how long we had her - nearly 13 years she was a part of our lives and our family. I remember the times my parents came to visit me at school and brought her with them. I jokingly referred to her as my "chick magnet". Women love dogs. At least, most women do. And Daisy was a playful and happy camper so she easily attracted attention. I never actually did meet any women that way, but in the end, it wasn't really about that - it was just nice to see someone who was happy to see me... and if my parents were happy, she was ecstatic.
I remember taking her sometimes for rides with me at night during my summer breaks. That was always enjoyable. If she hadn't gone to bed in mom's room, I'd call her over, put on her leash and drive in mom's Nissan Sentra and go for a ride with her looking out the windows in the back. A lot of the time we ended up driving to Depew to the Amtrak station and watching the trains go by. Friday night's were especially enjoyable the one summer. We would wait for the Lake Shore Limited to come in from New York around 1:30 and the one engineer was always coming off his engine and sometimes had a treat for her. She loved all the engineers she saw, but that one she liked especially.
In fact, she seemed so comfortable with trains that I once took her to Arcade to see how she'd behaving around the steam engine the railroad has. Amazingly, she didn't flinch or act remotely scared of it. She even got to go for a ride. I helped her on board and she road in the coach next to me all the way to Curriers, and then out onto the Gondola (in the rain) to look at the steam engine. It was odd, but she loved it.
After I moved out on my own, I had her over just twice. Once she stayed with me overnight on Easter weekend in 2006. Later that summer, when my sister came to visit, I kept her with me one night so she wouldn't wake up my nephew, who wasn't even 1 year old yet. It was wonderful to have a dog nearby at night. She slept quietly at the foot of my bed the whole night and was wonderful company the next day.
Sadly, I never got to have her stay here again. I wish I could have. On the 4th of March, she was having some problems. Very minor, it seemed. She had occasional blood drops showing up on her paw, and at first mom and dad thought she might be bleeding a bit from her mouth (they found a bit on her tongue) and then after that her paw. During the day, I finally realized it was coming from her mouth. We weren't worried at first. She was older and for all we knew she might just have a cold and have a dried out nose... and sometimes that happens, but it was nothing to get alarmed over. So that night, before I left, I gave her a customary kiss on the head and told her I'd see her next week.
No, it wasn't a cold. It was a tumor somewhere back behind her nose. It wasn't completely inoperable, but the amount of potential pain she could end up going through without a high chance for success didn't seem worth it - and again, we didn't want to risk having her suffer. It wouldn't have been fair, it wouldn't have been right to make her suffer for our selfishness. So I didn't get to see her next week. I got a note from my parents, who had tried to reach me by phone, that Daisy had been taken to an emergency vetrinarians office and the decision was made to put her to sleep. And like that, she was gone.
6 months now, and I'm still not really over it. I still come over to my parents and expect to be greated by Daisy. I still eat dinner with them and expect to have a black nose push up and into my wrist, sniffing for mom's home made spaghetti, or a piece of pizza crust (an all time favorite for her) or something else. I still prepare to ask my parents if they need me to watch her when they go out of town. I still thinking about taking another trip on the A & A with her. And then I remember - I can't. Because she is gone.
I don't know why, though, but I sometimes wonder how gone she really is. I swear I've been over at the house and I've heard her walking around. I am certain I have looked at the garage when I back out of their driveway in the evening and see her putting her paws up on the screen, as if she's trying to say, "Do you have to go?" I still sometimes roll over at night in my apartment and swear that she's here, strange as it seems when she wasn't here often at all. But maybe it's not so strange. Maybe she's still there, watching over my family and watching over me. Maybe she's still here to protect us and comfort us, as only a pet can do.
Most of the time, religion would have us believe that humans have souls, because we're God's chosen race, or because we are sentient, but that no other animal of creation does. I don't believe that. I believe all animals have a soul - I believe Daisy does. And as much as I miss her, every time I feel a bit of comfort, even being alone, I am reminded that Daisy's is still here, and is watching out for and over me.
If you took the time to read this, rest assured, I do have more humorous or ranting things to say, but I really needed to get this off my chest, and I thank you for reading it over.
