So Much More Than Just a Dog

Estrella

Yesterday. A chance conversation about the utter devastation which accompanies the death of a much loved dog. An unexpected jolt resulting from the memory of my beloved Marley's death in 2007. A sudden need to share my thoughts and feelings about how deeply these deaths affect us, with you, my loyal friends and pod blog readers. 

Today. Bev and Warren discovered that young Estrella, one of Alexa's pups, had died. No rhyme, no reason, no explanation for this little girl's passing. Just gone. Her little life snatched away before she had the chance to really begin to live. Today, Bev and Warren are understandably heartbroken. They have been mum and dad to these pups since they were five days old. However many other beautiful podenco souls they have in their care right now, they are human and that makes it's impossible to chalk this little girl's sudden passing up to experience and just get on with it. It just doesn't work like that.

This is something that every single one of us can identify with because every single one of us has been there. Every single one of us has felt that intense and crushing loss that losing a dog brings with it. And every single one of us has wondered why this pain is as acute as the pain we feel when a close relative or friend dies. No-one reading this will question for a single second that our dogs are more than just dogs but I have a theory about why we are so torn apart when we lose a four legged friend. Our dogs are dependent on us. They need us for food and water. They need us for shelter and warmth. They need us for companionship, exercise and stimulation. They need us for love. Our whole lives are taken up with the care and love of our four legged family members. We have routines we go through day in day out, every day the same. Every single morning when I take Nala for her first walk, she licks my face when I bend down to tie my shoes. Every single morning. That's roughly 2400 mornings up to now. Do you suppose that when Nala is no longer with me, that I won't automatically think of her when I put my shoes on in the mornings? Not a chance. Every one of our dogs is different, they have their own personalities and our relationship and habits with each of them differs slightly too. But they are all a part of who we are. To lose them is to have our lives changed, re-arranged, forever altered. They leave a hole in our hearts because of how great our love for them was. They leave a hole in our lives because the habits and routines we shared, are now also gone. Forever. 

Research has demonstrated the strength of the animal-human bond: In 1988, the Journal of Mental Health Counselling asked a group of dog owners to place a symbol for themselves on a sheet of paper, and then symbols for their family and pets around them. The distance between themselves and the other symbols corresponded to the relative, real-life closeness of those relationships. The dog owners tended to put the dog closer than the average family member, and about as close as the closest family member. For 38% of dog owners, the dog was closest of all.

Dogs don't judge, dogs don't betray, dogs don't argue, dogs are just always there, happy to see us, eager to please, always ready to give the same unconditional love. From the very first day. To the very last. No wonder then that we are on our knees when our dog dies. 

And our feeling toward each dog differs slightly. Nala has been with me through the darkest hours of my life and I know that when she's gone, or going, my feeling will be one of gratitude. I already thank her every day for being there. I will write 'thank you' on her headstone, whether that headstone is real or not. Most likely I will write about her. I'm a writer and that's what I will do to grieve. Write. When my beloved Marley died in 2007, my feeling was of remorse. He was old and was diagnosed with late stage cancer and as he died in my arms, I buried my face in his fur and sobbed "I'm sorry" over and over. Could I have done something to save him? My journey with Rico and Leo isn't yet far enough along for me to judge my exact relationship with them. I only know that I love them both unconditionally and for now that's good enough.

I often wonder how we dog owners do grieve effectively. Grieving for the loss of a person is fully accepted by society, even though we all grieve in our own way, but grieving for a dog is less well understood. Most likely, many of those around us will be sympathetic for a while and then tell us, whether directly or via implication, that we need to get over it. It's easy to feel as if we shouldn't be falling apart, as if we should pull ourselves together. Society as a whole just doesn't 'get' this kind of grief.

And so, we turn to our own. To those who do 'get' this kind of grief. To those who know exactly how we feel. To those who are like us. 

Bev, Warren, cry for Estrella. Cry for the life she will never have. But rejoice in the chance you gave her, in the life you gave her. Already Podenco Friends has two beautiful emblems, Blanca and the unforgettable, Angela. Now we have a third, baby Estrella. Unlike Blanca and Angela she knew only love, from Alexa who risked her life to save her babies, and from you. Now she is on the other side of the bridge telling all the podencos who have already gone before her that there are humans who love this wonderful and unique breed and who are fighting every single day to spread the word and to ensure that no podenco dies in vain.

To Estrella, and to all those who have passed, I say run free.

To Bev and Warren and others who loved their four legged children, I say don't be afraid to grieve. Grief is merely a measure of how much you loved.

God Bless you <3