Tuesday, March 23, 2010
It doesn't get any easier
Yesterday, we lost our beloved family dog to a brain tumor. A better companion, friend, sweetheart, and protector you'll never find. This morning is the first one since she fell ill and had to be hospitalized on Saturday that I definitely knew I would never let her out in the backyard again when I awoke, our daily, matutinal ritual.
She lived with me for over 13.5 years, although she was 15 years, 9 months old when she died. Her first two years were spent with my brother and ex-sister-in-law. I first met her when she was eight weeks old; I knew right away that there was something special about her. I told my brother that if they ever wanted to get rid of her, I'd take her. Two years later, she came to live with me, a bachelor at the time.
When I met my wife and she came to live with me, Princess barked at her and ran away. Soon, however, they became fast friends and soul mates, and it was that way for over 13 years. A dog will often bond especially close with one family member, and my wife was that person in our home. As you can imagine, she is devastated.
When I was a boy, a dog came to live with us who bonded with me. A number of years later, she became old and infirm and had to be put to sleep. Because I had this terrible experience under my belt, I thought I'd be somewhat inured to losing another animal, but I was wrong. It doesn't get any easier as I age, it gets harder. I am not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby for the old girl.
Goodbye, Princess. You will not only be missed, but grieved for too.