Two days ago I found our 12-year-old, Cairn Terrier, dead. It didn't come as a complete shock. She had been slowing down recently, having trouble on long walks, breathing rapidly and suffering a recurring problem with tooth decay. But... it was still a shock. Luring her downstairs in the mornings to go outside was getting harder and harder. I usually had to resort to treats. Clancy loved two things more than anything in the world (including us), food and walks. When she didn't come at the shake of the treat bag, I went up. She'd pooped on the carpet and was lying just inside one of our spare bedrooms. Instantly, I knew she was gone but called her name several times.
What is it about death that causes fear? I felt fearful to touch her, fearful to look into her eyes, to get too close. However, I did need to confirm her death and so poked a toe at her still body. Then came the panicked call to my husband, calls to inform our kids and finally a blanket to cover her body.
My husband left work to come and dispose of her and one of our daughters left work to come too. I was surprised by this, telling her it wasn't necessary. She insisted and told me later that her boss was an animal lover and told her to "take all the time she needed." I had to laugh at that. While I appreciate animal lovers and consider myself one, I don't rate my animals anywhere close to my people. I've seen friends and family go to extreme and costly measures to save a dying pet and pretty much know I wouldn't do that. Well, I say that...
Yet, we are pet people. Always have been. At the time of Clancy's death, we had four- two cats and two dogs. We got our first dog two weeks after we married and have had at least two pets ever since. I can't imagine a house without them, yet I truly get why people don't have them. They vomit, poop, chew, whine, bark, get sick, cost money, shed, tear things up, and the list goes on. Some days after dealing with an in and out meowing cat, pee in an upstairs bedroom, hair everywhere and cat vomit on my new sofa; I don't even understand why I have them. Yet, I can't imagine not having a pet in my home. I love to see a cat curled up in a pool of sunshine and I love the affection only a dog can show you. I laugh at their antics and appreciate the opportunity to care for them, to provide them a home and food and touch.
To make matters even more fuzzy, we have a favored pet. Her name is Bella. She's a three-year-old rescue dog and we adore her. She is the first among all our pets that we've been this nuts about. I think it's partly because Bella came to us at a time of stress in our lives and she helped us through it. But mostly I think it's because Bella is almost human-like with her affection. She literally tries to wrap her arms around you in a hug, she smiles, she loves you with such devotion it brings a lump to your throat. Bella is timid and afraid of men. It's endearing the way she clings close to us like a five-year-old not wanting to leave their mommy's side, when a stranger comes too close. We're her protectors and she trusts us completely. Bella is simply the sweetest, most enchanting dog we've ever had.
On the other hand, Clancy was always quirky, not terribly affectionate and in her later years, very, very stinky. She had recurring tooth decay and her breath could fill a room. I cared for her gladly with the obligation that comes from committing to a pet but I completely admit to not feeling the level of affection for her that I do for Bella. So it came as a surprise how emotional I felt when she died.
There was the actual physical shock of finding her dead, the tears and the feelings of regret that maybe we should have taken her to our vet. And later, the three of us petting her still body, saying goodbye, and telling her she was a "good doggie." We took her collar off and I hung it in the garage with another collar from a long ago pet. My husband and daughter took her to be cremated while I stayed home. I wandered from room to room seeing her in all her favorite spots and, several times, found myself looking at the spot where she last lay. She's my screen saver now; looking up at the camera with a ring of snow around her mouth and nose, dark eyes shining brightly. I'm not sure how I feel two days later. I know I'm not grieving for her in a deep and despairing way. Yet, I do find myself thinking of her and her life and what she brought to our family.
So... another pet gone. And like all of them, Clancy was part of our family history. She came to us as a tiny, little puppy when all our kids were still at home. Specially chosen and longed for by our middle child. Over the 30 years of our marriage, other pets have come and gone and I realize how they have been such an integral part of our family and tracing them traces our history. Like the Brittany Spaniel we got at four months old, at a time when I had three small children and no patience for an exuberant, peeing, chewing puppy. I think I called her "stupid dog" the first couple years of her life. And, our first dog... Just two weeks married I wanted a dog despite the fact we lived in a tiny apartment. Years later, Bruno was lost one Christmas while visiting my parents. He never came home. We had an ice storm that night and felt despairing that he was out in it. There was Max, known best for the world's smelliest farts. We had to give him away when our first daughter was born and he got aggressive around her. Fortunately, we found a loving family. We wondered how long until the farting would begin and if they would bring him back. Then, there are the cats. I won't go into their histories. Suffice it to say that I am the cat lover in the family and if not for me, I doubt there would be any.
Yes, we are definitely pet people. I know we will always have an animal in our home and will remember every one of them.
VSL
I love you :-)
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