On love, loss, grief and a life’s work
By Liz Palika
April 8, 2009
This morning I read Gina’s recent post about the loss of her Dad and the puppy who died in her hands. She mentioned her puzzlement over the strength of the life force and at the same time, the fragility of life. Her grief for both her Dad and the puppy is very real and both tear at my heart.
Although we each suffer individually and we really cannot know how someone else is suffering, sometimes something wonderful can come from grief.
While my brother and sister and I were growing up, my Mom had toy poodles. I liked the dogs most of the time, but I can vividly remember times when those dogs would sit on Mom’s lap and growl at us kids when we walked anywhere near Mom. I decided when I grew up I would get a real dog; a dog like Lad a Dog, or Rin Tin Tin, or Lassie. (I was a huge reader, even back then.)
So when I left home at 18, got a job, got my own place, I also got a dog. I got a puppy from German Shepherd rescue. A litter had been abandoned along a rural road. Watachie was underweight, full of roundworms, covered with fleas, and sneezing. But after a couple of trips to the veterinarian’s office and some good food, he perked right up. By the time he was a year old, he weighed 100 pounds and was an impressive, regal looking dog.
When Watachie was four months old, I enrolled in a dog training class and he graduated at the top of his class and I was hooked on dog training. Eventually Watachie earned his AKC obedience Utility Dog title (I got an ILP on him since he wasn’t from a breeder) and he had OTCH points. He was a certified search and rescue dog, with finds to his credit. He learned to pull a wagon. He went to the California state final for Frisbee competitions. He and I went camping and took road trips. He had been swimming in the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic, and Gulf of Mexico. Watachie and I did just about everything we could do. If I could figure out how to teach it, he learned how to do it.
However, when he was seven years old (and I was 25), I lost Watachie. He passed away in my arms and I cried and cried and cried. In my short 25 years I had never had a friend like him and had never suffered a loss like that.
In my grief, I turned to words – always my friends – and I wrote about Watachie. I must have touched some heart strings because my words were published in Dog World magazine and the German Shepherd Dog Review; my first published works. And then I got my first fan mail. People told me how much my words meant to them.
So now, 30 years later, I can look back and see what a tremendous impact one well loved but short lived dog made on my life. I am still training dogs and teaching their owners. And I am still writing about dogs. The things that Watachie taught me with his life and his death have stuck with me and will be with me forever.
But perhaps most importantly, I still live with love dogs and I still grieve horribly when I lose one. And although grief is hard, it is a reflection of the love we feel for the one (two legged or four legged) who has passed away. For without love, there would be no grief.
A dog who died at the way-too-early age of seven inspired me to start writing about dogs, too.
Comment by Susan — April 8, 2009 @ 10:13 am
I once had a puppy for four days.
He came into the vet clinic where I work gravely ill, and his owner had no money to even try to treat. He signed the pup over to me so I could at least give the tiny little guy a chance. I renamed him Cash, because that was what it was all about- a mill puppy bred for money and nothing else and an owner who couldn’t afford to even try. He spent three days hospitalized and I finally brought him home. He got worse that evening and I ended up putting him to sleep the next morning. It was horrible. Just gut-wrenching. I cried my eyes out over this pup I didn’t even really know. I will never ever forget him.
Comment by katie — April 8, 2009 @ 10:18 am
Thank you, Liz. This really helps a great deal. We do learn things in life, and in loss. Sometimes we don’t figure them out for a while, but life’s lessons are all important, even the hard ones.
Comment by Gina Spadafori — April 8, 2009 @ 10:27 am
Oh Katie, how sad. But at least you gave him a chance.
I was a vet tech for years, too, and can’t remember how many puppies, kittens, ferrets, and bunnies I brought home to nurse. Some made it and some didn’t. But for those who didn’t make it, their last days or hours were those of being loved, warm, fed, and cared for as best I could. I didn’t have control over anything else but I could do that.
Comment by Liz Palika — April 8, 2009 @ 11:55 am
That was beautiful Liz. I have a once very sick and now on the mend foster puppy here right now on “wait and see.”I sure hope he won’t be teaching my kids about loss. (again)
Comment by Nancy Freedman-Smith CPDT — April 8, 2009 @ 3:22 pm
Beautiful words Liz.
In losing pets before, I have said “I don’t want another pet because losing them is too hard.” However, I always get another pet.
My husband was very reluctant to have pets also because of the fear of losing them. He now knows that losing them will be very difficult, no doubt, but having them for the time we do makes the loss worth it.
Comment by Tammy — April 8, 2009 @ 3:35 pm
I am sitting here with tears streaming down my face after reading this. In our house, it is cats that have taken over our hearts. We lost one very special girl in January. I brought her home at 4 weeks old, after the mama cat abandoned the litter, and spoon fed her with wet food and kitten formula. It was touch and go for about a week as to whether she would susrvive or not. But survive, and thrive, she did on lots of love and attention. After almost 17 years with us, it was her time to go and our time to say a very hard good-bye. Liz, you have most certainly helped me. I now understand that our grief is the last expression of our love for her. Thanks for such a touching story.
Comment by Theresa Murphy — April 8, 2009 @ 5:14 pm
My Batman was an abandoned stray that I took into my home and loved for almost 16 yrs until he died about l 1/2 mos. ago. It has been breaking my heart just to think about him.
I also have tears in my eyes thinking about Brandy that died less than a year ago. Both cats that I miss so much.
I told the vet several times that I would not get any more, that they were the last.
I couldn’t stand any more losses.
Well, 5 days after Brandy passed away, I got Inca and a couple of weeks after that I got Sophie. I cannot get anymore right now, so I shall just have to sob when I think of Batman.
I talk to all cats I meet and I am glad to meet as many as I can, ‘cause I just love those furry felines.
Comment by Colorado Transplant — April 9, 2009 @ 4:52 am
This difficult, yet beautiful discussion about our loved ones is exactly why death and the grief process are so puzzling. We celebrate the fact that the loved one was in our life, but we also hurt tremendously in knowing we must move forward without that loved one.
In my many years as a pet loss grief counselor, I’ve heard many people ask, “Why can’t I enjoy the love without enduring the pain of the grief?” Why indeed, for that’s the crux of the issue. It seems that love and loss are a package deal and there’s no way around it.
I personally feel that our society is getting better about supporting grievers. We’ve come a long way and are letting people honor their grief much more openly. This is key if we are to truly accept our losses and find ways to move forward.
Comment by Dana Durrance — April 9, 2009 @ 8:37 am
My dog died an hour ago…I’d had her for ten years….When I became divorced..I didn’t ask for the house, or the cars, or any money….I just took what clothes I had, a computer, and my dog, Cleo.I can’t even begin to imagine what life will be without her..my baby girl.
Comment by Jeanne Jasperse — May 5, 2009 @ 1:48 pm
I’m so sorry Jeanne. Please know you are in my thoughts.
Comment by The OTHER Pat — May 5, 2009 @ 3:43 pm
Jeanne, I’m so sorry. Did you know that PetHobbyist.com has a chat room open at 9 p.m. ET 365 days a year for pet loss support?
They’re not affiliated with us, other than that Christie works for them, too. (And I know lots of the staff there … great people.)
Comment by Gina Spadafori — May 5, 2009 @ 3:56 pm
Oh Jeanne, I am so very, very sorry! You are in my thoughts and prayers. I am struggling with a much loved cat who has Feline Chronic Renal Failure, and the the sands through the hourglass are running down. So I sincerely sympathize, and wish I could stop your hurting and make your grief turn to loved remembrance of all the days, weeks, years you and your dog shared together.
Comment by Anne T — May 5, 2009 @ 4:10 pm
Jeanne—
So sorry for your loss. When the Queen of the Universe passed (a Persian, what else? ;-)) at 17, I’d had her my entire adult life. I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without her — she had always been there, always with me wherever I was in the house and I don’t think there has been anyone else in my entire life who loved me so much (while I have my share of nutty family, I actually have a few good ones, too, but even they didn’t care about me as much as she did). For awhile, even with the support of others, I was completely lost.
All I can say is that feeling lost is completely normal. I’m so sorry it hurts.
Comment by Dorene — May 5, 2009 @ 6:39 pm