I have a sign by the ashes of the dogs I've lost as a adult. It says something along the long "everytime I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart, and everytime a new dog enters my life, it gives a piece of its heart to me. Eventually my heart will be made of all dog and I will be as kind as they are". That's not exact, but close. I've had many dogs, during childhood and as an adult. The dog I lost last year, Maia, was my heart dog. She gave me the last piece of heart, and when she died, she took my whole heart with her.
It seems unfair, loving dogs. They don't get much time with us. My Maia was only twelve when cancer got her. I had to go through with putting her down, because I could see she was in agony. I couldn't selfishly keep her alive for myself. I didn't want her to hurt any more.
I don't think I've ever cried as hard as I did that day and held her as the life left her body. Not for another person, not for any other reason. I think about her every day. I reach for her at night. She's not there and it breaks me. And facing every day like this without her is fresh agony.
But I would rather feel like this than just feel better and move on. She deserves more than that. I'll never have another dog again because I can't, not after her.
Before I lost her, I had another dog, Morgan. She was a rescue at six months old from an abusive home. It took nearly a year to house train her. It took years to get her to stop flinching at a quickly moved hand. She loved more than anything to be hugged. I've never had a dog that liked hugging. Maia snuggled on her terms,thank you very much.)
Unfortunately, Morgan started resource guarding. She would attack either of our two other dogs if they got too close to what they thought was hers. And what she thought was hers, was me.
I loved Morgan so much. But Maia was my heart dog, and Molly, the third dog, was my partner's dog. And we had a young grandson. We couldn't take the risk that Morgan might decide he was too close to me and attack him.
So, to make sure she was safe and would end up with good people , I gave Morgan up to a rescue society. It hurt as if I had given up one of my children. I still think of her, too. It tears me up to think that after they took her away she looked for me and wondered why I wasn't there. When I was coming to get her.
I check on her from time to time. She ended up with a great home and a person who loves her. That was three years ago. I can only hope that she is enjoying life (she would be almost eleven now) and is still loved. And I hope that she mostly forgot about me, so there's no more pain if wondering.
Life is grief, the longer you live.
Grief is pain.
Grief is the worst thing I've ever had to bear.
And that's saying a lot.
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