We got him about 5 years ago. He had been abused and we rescued him from a shelter. He was an incredibly loving and playful dog. He would not stop catching the frisbee until he was exhausted. Then he'd take a 1 minute break, and get up again. He was loyal to the end. He was very protective of his family. Once when a stranger entered the yard uninvited when the children were playing...he put a stop to it. (I can't say anymore. :)
We had to have him put to sleep last week. He was the third dog I've lost, but he was the first dog to be mine. Really mine. I'll miss him. He developed some sort of mystery illness that eventually got him.
When my first dog was put to sleep, I was 16. The most difficult part was that I didn't say goodbye. Regret makes grief worse. (A lesson for us to remember when we lose people too!)
I said goodbye to Rascal. I told him what a good dog he was, and I thanked him for protecting my children. He licked me weakly and flopped his tail for me as I left the room. He was loyal to the end.
Why is it that we grown-up manly men keep it to our selves when we mourn the loss of a pet? Are we embarrassed? I'm willing to be vulnerable here and admit my grief. I think God gives us animals and the attachment we develop is a gift too. In them we see a small (and fuzzy) picture of loyalty and love without conditions.
The hardest part this time was explaining death to my three year old. I was honest with him. I didn't tell him that Rascal "went away" or that he went to heaven. I said that Rascal died. Joel said, "OK, can I play on the swingset now?" The next day Joel asked when Rascal was coming home. I explained that he wasn't coming home. And that "died" means that the body stops working. He asked where Rascal was, and remembering that children need concrete answers I said, "in the ground". Then he said he missed Rascal. That's when I redirected. I said we could remember how good Rascal was at catching the frisbee in the air. I also said that Mommy and I had a prize for him. (Melissa had called me at work and told me Joel was crying about Rascal. I drove home and told her to find a picture of Rascal and put it in a frame.) So at the end of our conversation I presented Joel with a framed picture of Rascal and said that whenever he wanted to remember Rascal all he had to do was look at the picture.
It worked! Joel was so excited about putting his picture of Rascal in his room. And every now and then he'll say something about Rascal and look at the picture. Yesterday a neighbor lady, meaning well, asked Joel if Rascal was in heaven. Joel pointed at the picture and said, "He's right there." :)
Things are getting back to normal at our house. We all seem to have gotten past the hard part. But we'll always remember Rascal.
Who do you remember?
- D.A. Carson
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Dang, Shrode. Heartbreaking, but your handling of it is inspiring. Well done!
I'm so sorry. I understand what you're going through. I will always remember my beloved dog Coco, who I had to have put to sleep three days after Christmas last year. (I posted about it on my blog.)
I'm sorry to hear about your pet dying.
Giving your son a picture of Rascal is a very good idea.
I remember Missy, also a border collie. She was very smart, typical of the breed. But instead of tending toward the hyper like they often do, she calmly surveyed her domain with an always patrician air. She overcame her hatred of cats to become the only four-footed creature in the world that my sister's cat ever had any use for. If someone in the house would get sad or upset, she would cry right along with them. I grew up with her and after I went away to college my parents had to put her to sleep when she had a stroke. She was a great dog. Very sorry about Rascal. I know it hurts.
We got Daphne, a miniature dachshund, when I was in the fourth grade. She got old and hard of hearing (and seeing) and eventually died a couple of years ago. My brother actually found her -- she had fallen into the swimming pool and drowned. Not in a million years would I have wished to be in his place.
She was an awesome dog and a faithful friend, funny and playful even in her old age.
My bro has her ashes in an urn in his apartment, I think.
It's very difficult to lose a pet. You've handled it well. Please accept my condolences.
We haven't had to experience that yet. We still have Niki, our 15 1/2 year old West Highland White Terrier. She is totally deaf, losing sight in one eye and is missing a few teeth.
But, if you could see her do the 'happy dance' on her back in the backyard, it's priceless! She can still grab pizza crust out of the air - for that she still jumps around like a puppy.
I dread the day.
The picture is a great idea. But, I am still hoping to find her in heaven.
Noooooo! I'm not too sentimental, but I have had a lot of dogs die, and in various ways. Run over by a car, eaten by coyotes, found dead and stiff in a neighbor's yard (that dog was probably our best, but an incurable roamer who could climb a six foot fence).
I can just see Joel furrowing his brow at your neighbor and pointing to the picture. No, you dummy. He's right there.
But now #3 will enter a world without Rascal.
And there arose a Schroeder who knew not Rascal . . .
Aw, I'm sorry to hear about your loss. Reminds me of my dog--we had to put him to sleep the summer before I came to college because he had cancer...it's hard, man. My condolences.
Shrode, I'm sorry about your loss. This story was great, adn I loved how you handled it with your son. His response to your neighbor was awesome.
I had a cat when my wife and I got married that got sick and we had to put it down. He was less than 3, I think. I cried in the vet's office and then felt stupid about it. We still have the cat that my wife hd when we got married, she's about 13. She's quite healthy, but I know he day is comming when we'll loose her too.
Aw, I'm sorry to hear about your loss.