Early in April, my husband and I said goodbye to our 15-year old dog, Gertie. She was a gentle soul, loved by us more than we thought possible. While she could be aloof at times and was fairly independent in her younger years, the older she got the more she wanted to be near us. Mind you, she was not a cuddly dog. It was only in the last six to nine months of her life when movement became more difficult for her that we could steal a hug or a kiss without her walking away, or that we’d feel her head between our shins when she was being needy.
For the most part, she eased into her senior years and kept things simple on us. Watching her age, however, felt hard at times. We weren’t always patient with her changing needs at first. It was easy to feel inconvenienced by her slowdown, which came in many forms including hearing loss, appetite loss, occasional bladder-control loss, and cognitive loss at the very end. During her final year is when so many of the lessons we were meant to learn in a short amount of time came about.
For sure she taught us patience in her final year. We started off as strongminded people with schedules to follow who thought we could rush her into peeing or pooping on our terms (not hers). We became people who cancelled plans because our dog hadn’t yet peed and would eventually need to do so (“No, I’m sorry, I cannot make that meeting today!”). We became people who modified our nighttime routine and gave up sleep in order to listen for the sound of scrambling dog nails on our wood floor, which indicated an immediate need to go outside. And instead of resisting it, we learned to embrace those 2:00am wakeups in her last few weeks alive because standing with her in the pitch-black freezing night air became a precious and unique connection. Basically, everything that felt like an inconvenience in the early days of her aging slowly gave way to our new normal as we all fell in step with Gertie’s evolving needs.
When the fateful day came that it was clear she could no longer function comfortably or coherently in this world, we made the excruciating decision to help her pass. In her final hour alive, she rested quietly on the entryway rug of our home. We sat with her, petting her gently and telling her we loved her, and both commented on how slowly that hour seemed to go by. When the vet arrived, we held Gertie’s head as tears streamed down our faces. We kept a light touch of our hands on her body the entire time (making sure not to disrespect her usual desire not to be touched). And when the vet checked her heartbeat for the last time and whispered, “She’s gone” both of us cried the hardest either of us had up to that point in our relationship. We had just lost a precious member of our family – one who both of us cared for deeply and who we loved far more than either could express.
In the days following her death, we witnessed an outpouring of love and caring from friends, family and neighbors. While I consider myself a smart, thoughtful woman, I learned some valuable lessons from losing our dog.
1. Multiple Reach-Outs Feel Better Than One and Done
Loads of people sent their condolences via text, email and social media. My husband and I were grateful and each message brought a flood of tears to our eyes. The greatest comfort I received, though, was from family and friends who reached out not just once, but multiple times following Gertie’s death to see how we were doing.
Even though I work hard to be thoughtful, until we lost Gertie I was likely among the “one and done” when it came to sharing condolences. Now I know to reach out at least two or three times over the course of a few days to make sure my friends or family are doing okay because grief isn’t something that’s resolved in a day.
2. The Eyes Are the Window to the Soul
Of course I’d heard that phrase dozens of times before Gertie died, and in theory I knew exactly what it meant. It wasn’t until I saw Gertie’s eyes after she died, however, that it took on its truest meaning. Once her spirit left her body Gertie’s eyes didn’t look real. They were blank and appeared like black marbles. Her limp body – despite no difference really except lack of breath or heartbeat – looked more like a wild dog’s rather than our gentle angel’s. Seeing her like that gave me tremendous pause and helped me better understand that we are not our body; we are our soul.
3. Thoughtful Gift for Pet Lovers
One of the neatest gestures sent our way came in the form of a donation made to the local animal shelter in Gertie’s honor. We received a letter letting us know, and it just so happened that Gertie was a shelter puppy when my husband found and fell in-love with her fifteen years prior. Such a great gift idea that I’ll be using in the future when sharing condolences over pets who have passed.
Thank you for reading and may your heart be soothed when needing it most.
