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Cradle to grave: Pets, children and a lifetime of love
By Dr. Marty Becker
March 5, 2010
Last Friday afternoon I got back to my pickup in a parking lot in Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho, where we’d been scouting locations for a possible TV show.
I turned on my cell phone and got the news that our precious 16-week-old granddaughter, Reagan, had been hospitalized in Twin Falls with a serious respiratory problem called RSV.
I tried to talk with daughter Mikkel and wife Teresa about this logically (as a father and grandfather) and clinically (as a doctor), but could only mutter a few words each attempt before crying — can’t catch your breath, blow your nose crying. For over an hour I sat in my truck, engine running but not moving, paralyzed with fears and overcome with tears.
I’m not a guy who’s afraid to cry. I tear up when I see members of the armed forces greeting their families after returning from deployment. I cried when Reagan was born, and when we had to say goodbye to my best friend, Teresa’s dad Jim Burkholder.
I get tears in my eyes when the “Star Spangled Banner” plays, and on seeing images of suffering in Haiti or a single dog shaking with fear at the back of a shelter cage.
But none of those are anything like the tears that flowed when Reagan was at risk.
What is very much like the tears I shed for Reagan are those I cried six years ago when our Wirehaired Fox Terrier Scooter (our daughter Mikkel’s first dog) was euthanized at the age of 13, suffering from terminal cancer. My colleague and friend Dr. Rolan Hall at Bonners Ferry Veterinary Hospital pushed the plunger as I held our special Scootie.
I kept it together in the veterinary hospital, but as I held her lifeless body in my lap — wrapped in her favorite blanket with her favorite toy — and began the drive home to bury her in the dog cemetery we have in our orchard, the geyser started. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and had to pull off the road for almost 30 minutes.
Yesterday I read Kim Campbell Thornton’s wonderful post about the possibility of saying goodbye to her beloved 14-year old Bella, and decided to go out and visit Scooter. I told her how much she’d meant to Mikkel during a difficult part of her childhood and reflected on the pure joy and love we’d shared. I told her about Reagan’s illness, and shared with her the good news that she’d been released from the hospital and was on the mend.
With the loss of a pet like Scooter, or Bella one day all too soon, your heart breaks. But luckily for many of us pet lovers it expands to allow other four-legged family members into our life — like Teresa’s beloved canine cocktail, 7-year-old Quixote, pictured above by Scooter and Lucky’s graves.
Some might say it’s wrong to compare the tears shed for a dog to those that flowed when my granddaughter was ill, but they’re missing the heart of the matter. Love is love, and there’s enough to go around for the dogs that cuddle little Reagan and for Reagan herself, too.
The same is true of tears.
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Hysteria—that is the name applied to my behavior over the loss of a loved one.
Then a dead feeling ensues—whether it is a pet or a person.
I come to life again, usually in Springtime, when the grass renews itself, the weather is warmer, and all the new life appears—baby squirrels, kittens, puppies, etc.
I do believe in the Spirit World—but I am uncertain about the exact details. I want to meet all my loved ones there—human and animal!
Comment by Evelyn — March 5, 2010 @ 8:30 am
Having said goodbye to a beloved dog recently, and a mom two years ago, I have to agree. Tears are tears, regardless of whom they’re shed for.
Comment by KathyF — March 5, 2010 @ 8:33 am
What a beautiful post. I think it’s so important that we let people know that it’s not only okay to grieve, but that the loss of a pet can be devastating, and as such, deserves the only appropriate response - and that’s to grieve, cry and mourn. You said it perfectly - love is love. And there is no such thing as inappropriate love.
Comment by Ingrid King — March 5, 2010 @ 9:23 am
Our family is fond of saying that tears are just Liquid Love…sometimes shared in grief, sometimes shared in joy.
But the love behind those tears is the constant heartbeat of our emotional lives.
Comment by Melinda — March 5, 2010 @ 9:41 am
Amen!
Comment by Liz Palika — March 5, 2010 @ 10:13 am
I’ve been told I should “get over it” or “don’t make such a fuss” when a pet dies or has to be euthanised. Some friends and family members can’t understand how wrenching it can be to lose an animal friend. (“It’s only a dog/cat/bird etc.”) How many of us have had to keep our grief private to prevent hearing insensitive remarks while our hearts are breaking?
Comment by perkysmom — March 5, 2010 @ 11:06 am
How many of us have had to keep our grief private to prevent hearing insensitive remarks while our hearts are breaking?
Comment by perkysmom — March 5, 2010 @ 11:06 am
Far too many..
Comment by Alison — March 5, 2010 @ 11:07 am
I was 26 when I lost my grandmother and my 13 year old dog within two weeks of each other. My dog died of kidney failure, my grandmother of heart failure. My grandmother had a big part in raising me. My dog had been a constant companion during my “coming of age” years. I grieved deeply for both. I would never criticize someone for bitterly grieving the loss of a pet. Just as the people we love see us at our best and our worst, so do our pets. And they love us unconditionally. That’s worth so much and it’s so hard to lose.
Comment by C.L.H. — March 5, 2010 @ 11:55 am
There is a place to talk it out, be supported by others who have been through similar losses. All are welcome to PetHobbyist’s Pet Loss and Illness Support chats… 365 nights a year. The losses are hard, but it is just as hard to help support those who face the prospect of losing a loved one, they just don’t know when it will be yet.
Comment by Moira — March 5, 2010 @ 2:15 pm
With you all the way - I have howled when my pets have died. BTW, hope Reagan is now recovered from RSV and back at home.
Comment by Piper — March 6, 2010 @ 12:51 am
A few years ago, I read this on the site of a dog trainer:
“If I had one piece of advice to give you before that miserable day when you lose your best friend it would be to take as many pictures of him now as you can.”
http://mros.biz/grieving.htm
I am so glad I listened to him. When I lost my best girl last year, looking at the photos brought me SO much comfort. It was a reminder of what a good, good life we had together.
Comment by Mary Mary — March 6, 2010 @ 8:41 am