Keep inflicting this pain upon ourselves.
I swear that having wonderful dogs is going to be the death of me.
Maybe it’s luck, maybe it’s who we are, but for whatever reason, my husband and I have been the proud parents of so many amazing, talented, loving dogs over the past 20 years.
And each time one of them dies, it feels like part of your soul goes with them.
It’s literal agony. Every. Single. Time.
And the craziest part?
We do it to ourselves.
We KNOW our dogs are only with us for the smallest fraction of the time we want.
We KNOW they will die before we do.
We KNOW there are countless awful ways they can leave us — accident, disease, old age.
We know all of this.
Yet we keep signing up for the heartbreak anyway.
We accept the guilt that will come barreling down on us — that we didn’t do enough, didn’t know that something was wrong, didn’t see the signs soon enough, didn’t spend enough time with them.
We accept the sadness of routines suddenly disrupted.
We accept the quiet house full of loud reminders: their favorite chair, their lovey toy, the spot where their bowl used to be.
People mean well when they say they’re sorry.
And even if they’ve lost pets too, it doesn’t feel like they could ever understand exactly how we feel right now. How could they? No one had our dog. No one loved them the way we did. No one could possibly miss them this much.
We don’t want to see anyone.
We don’t want their sympathy.
We don’t want their pity.
Does this seem dramatic? Over the top? Unrealistic?
It does to me too.
And yet here we are… mired in sadness, stunned that it has happened again, all while knowing it always would. Always too soon.
So, I ask again:
Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?
Because life without our special family members is gray, boring, and substantially less loving.
Because the joy they bring makes every ounce of heartbreak worth it.
Because a life without dogs is almost not worth considering.
And yes — we will do it again.
And again.
And again.
