There’s a sticky spot on my kitchen floor that grabs at my socks every time I walk over it. I think I spilled pineapple juice there last night, and though I tried to clean it up, it’s obvious I didn’t do a very good job. I haven’t had to clean up many spills like that for the past six years. Precious was always on the job.
I always had a fair amount of hair and dirt and mud tracked in from the back yard, though. Friday, when I came home sobbing and began gathering things and cleaning up, I swept a large pile of black hair with gratitude. It’s been five days, and my floors are still mostly clean. Except for the pineapple juice.
My house is also eerily quiet. No longer is there a sweet face to say good morning or good night to. The barks which always alerted me to someone in the driveway or someone at the door are replaced by silence, then surprise. There is no metal on metal from her tag and collar colliding as she shakes. No disgusting sounds of licking as she cleans herself, or sweet sounds of snoring as she sleeps next to me.
When I came home yesterday, my eyes went directly to the front window, where normally I would see a black nose poking out through the blinds. I put my knee out when I opened the door to the house to keep her from escaping, but she wasn’t there. My morning and evening routines which involved food and water and walks and bathroom trips outside for Precious are suddenly different. Even awkward. I make circles around the house not knowing what to do next, or even first.
My dad told me last night that he never thought I would be the type to get emotionally attached to a dog. Apparently as a child, my appreciation for dogs was more limited, more accurately described as, “Eewww, gross.” And I can’t exactly remember when fur, wet noses, and slopply licks became appealing to me.
But they did. And now, I see how a dog can come into a life with such innocence and trust, and just being herself could help me see myself in a whole new way. I am a dog person who is grieving the loss of a very special friend.
And part of that process will most likely lead me to another dog. Not because Precious didn’t mean much to me. But because she meant so very, very much that she has left me with something missing in my life.
Renae – Thank you.
Glynn – Your pain and loss is palpable. Hard to believe how entwined our lives become with out furry friends.
Soap Sister – yes, I expect I will find black hair in the crevasses for years. I think that will make me happy.
Thanks, Doug.
KJ – Good advice. Tonight I played with my friends’ Golden and it was healing.
We lost our dog in May {2010} after 10 years. We got her from a shelter when she was 4. I had NO idea how hard it was ..and is…to lose a pet!!! She was my first.
We also purchased another…this time a 3 mo. old from a shelter…honestly, regretting getting a puppy…I had no idea how hard!!! She is 8 months now and s…l..o…w…l…y getting better.
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Take your time.
Blessings!
Having too many kids to have time for a Dog your post has reminded me how fun and wonderful dogs can be. Sorry for your loss.
I knew this post would make me cry, but here I am pedaling through tears. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Every once in a while, usually at Christmas time, unpacking things rarely used, I come across a golden hair (amidst the sea of black ones that “decorate” our house these days) and I still get misty…and I think that’s o.k., to miss an old and dear friend.
I hope, in time, when you’re ready, you find a new friend. He won’t be the same, of course, except for the unconditional love part. They do leave a void that only a dog can fill!
p.s. LOVE the photo! What a honey!
I go into the kitchen each morning and reach for his pills, and then remember he’s gone.
I’m in the laundry room and look next to the dryer to see if he’s still sleeping in his crate, but the crate’s gone.
I come home from church and immediately go to the crate for his mid-day walk, but he’s not there.
I’m unlearning 14 years of training, and not doing too good a job at it.
I didn’t know about Precious. I am so sad for you. Thanks for posting about your journey.