To quote Andrew Garfield, "I hope this grief stays with me... This is all the unexpressed love, the grief that will remain with us until we pass because we never get enough time with each other....”
I lost my dog yesterday. Charlie Brown, also known as Mr. Seal, Little Man, and the Hand Whore, passed at home surrounded by his brother, sister, me and Mr. Evie.
It was sudden and unexpected. One minute he was a rambunctious pupper, dancing around the yard, the next we had to make a tough decision.
He came into our lives during COVID, at a time when life seemed hard and dark. Uncertainty still lingered, and we were just emerging. He and his brother arrived on our doorstep in a surprisingly abrupt manner, but quickly settled into our home and our hearts.
We'll miss finding him stealing the strawberries, nibbling at the tomatoes, and scoffing his siblings breakfast when he thinks we aren't looking.
I'll
miss his excitement to go walking, and even miss his determination to sniff every drain we pass.
We'll miss him playing turtle under beds and blankets, and the way he mucks around with Lucy and Wally. We'll even miss his cement feet and determination to get constant pats - you little hand whore.
When I think about heaven and the afterlife, I often hope that it is a place where I'll be reunited with every dog I've ever loved. That it's a place where they're all gathered in front of a fire, or curled on a huge couch. There'll be toys and snacks, and the cold press of a snuffling nose as we all snuggle together in contentment.
Nothing prepares you for saying goodbye to a loved one. Nothing hurts quite so much as being the one to make that decision.
It is an honour to have loved you, Charlie.
Dear Charlie,
We love you.
Say hi to Hendrix for us, little man.
Keep the couch warm until I get there.
Goodbye, Mr. Seal.
