(Note to the Reader: Don’t worry. I promise this will end on a happy note.)
Bloggers share the sad stuff.
It’s a way of processing hard news. Of releasing tension.
But it’s also our responsibility. After all, we’re part of a community.
And as a part of that community, I respond to the sad stuff bloggers share about their dogs.
Crying Over Dogs
When a friend writes about her elderly dog having a bad night, I understand the dread that comes from wondering if this is just a rough patch or the start of a major decline.
I too have worried about a case of vomiting or a lame leg. Is it just one of those things that will clear up on its own? Or is it a major worry?
Like everyone who loves dogs, I feel the pain of other people worrying about their dogs. I’ve been through it before. And I know I’ll go through it again.
Now if I could only think of a way to actually help my friends care for their ailing pups.
Our Friend Brooks
Peggy, of Peggy’s Pet Place, shared on Facebook last night that their recently adopted dog, Brooks, has cancer in multiple sites.
My heart goes out to Peggy and her family on dealing with this tough news. And my thoughts continually return to Brooks.
He was even the subject of my 3 a.m. worryfest.
Why am I so affected by the illness of a dog I’ve never met?
- Maybe it’s because Peggy shared Brook’s story from the day he joined the family through her relief that first dog, Kelly, might actually accept him.
- Or perhaps it’s because Brooks is a Golden Retriever and my Honey is a Golden Retriever.
- Or just maybe it’s because it was April when our vet told us that Shadow, who we had adopted only a few months earlier, had bone cancer in her jaw and that she only had a few months with us.
Wounds heal in time. But they always leave scars.
Finding the Blessing
Because I keep hearing bad news from my blogging friends, I went looking for the blessing of caring for a sick dog. And I found it.
Knowing that our friends are ill causes us to focus. We pay attention. And we rearrange our time to care for and make memories with our beloved animals.
One of my happiest memories of Shadow came when my husband brought her down to pick me up from work one night.
Shadow was a very solemn dog. She didn’t play.
It was almost like living with a nun—a pre-Vatican II nun in a heavy black habit.
But on this particular night, Shadow got a case of the zoomies. And we were lucky enough to record it.
It’s not a pretty video. And it’s not nicely edited. But it’s how I like to remember Shadow, the furry nose with a long black tail.
Make a memory with your dog today. I promise you’ll never regret it.
Your Turn: What are the memories that will always remain with you about your dog? Is it a look? A place you went together? Something surprising he did?