Grief for a Friend
A good friend of mine just suffered a horrible loss -- her beloved dog was hit by a car and killed. I can give you the link, but it's tough stuff to read. I cried through the entire thing. To boot, she had to put one of her cats to sleep just recently. Truthfully, other crappy stuff has happened this past year as well. My heart goes out to you, Airyn!
I think the worst thing for me about Airyn's post is the guilt she feels about it. I don't think she should feel that. Bad shit happens sometimes and we just have no control over it.
I've had two dogs run over by cars before. The first, when I was seven, was actually the dog my Dad grew up with. Teddy was old, and in recent times just hadn't been himself. He was no longer scared of thunder -- most likely because he was losing his hearing -- and his mobility was down. It was the last day of second grade, and mom had, for some strange reason, taken this happy day and scheduled a dentist appointment! Teddy liked to lie under our van in the shade. We got in the car, Mom beeped and Teddy left his spot. Then, as she began to pull away, Teddy ran under the car, and was run over. It was awful. Teddy was dead, and Mom felt awful, and Pat, who was 5 at the time, didn't seem to care because he didn't realize what had happened.
I think to this day I still believe that Teddy did it on purpose to end his life and whatever suffering he had, but that is most likely a delusion I made up to make myself feel better. That's okay, though. I think we're allowed to do that when loved ones die.
The second dog was Beau. Pat and I had bought him for my parents to keep them company -- when I was in college. We got him at a shelter, and he was a great dog! Black lab mix. He loved to fetch balls and run in our woods. My parents tried to keep him on a leash, but he would find a way out and would then run around without a collar on. So, he got to explore and run around. Occasionally this would get him into trouble. One day he trotted home with a neighbor's chicken in his mouth (not dead yet). Another time he got shot at for going after someone's sheep (I grew up in the country, huh?). About 10 years after we got Beau, he didn't come home one night, which had never happened. Mom searched and searched, but didn't find him until a couple of days later. He was lying on the side of the road, curled up, like he was sleeping. Very peaceful looking, actually. Probably the spot he crawled to after he got hit and the f-head who hit him kept driving. I think Beau had a pretty great doggy life -- and given the kind of dog he was, he would have been miserable cooped up. He died because of it, but he truly lived because of it too.
RIP, Zephyr, and Teddy and Beau.
I do not want to face the die when I have to write about the death of one of my own dogs. I know it will be a heartbreak.