Yesterday I lost my Daisy, she was a little English Cockerspaniel and I had her for 11years. She was 16yrs old and lived a long life in dog years. She got sick while I've been away on vacation and they only way to save would be an unaffordable surgery and at her age there's no guarantee she would recover. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her we had to put her down yesterday. I miss her terribly already and I'm beyond sad I'm absolutely heartbroken. It'll really hit me hard when I return home and she's not there. Never did I ever think I loose her like this and feel so awfully heartbroken. She was such a good dog and a great companion animal. I can't stop the tears for her.
And why stop the tears? Jesus
wept upon hearing that Lazarus had died, did he not? And if anyone here has seen
The Passion, it still hits home that scene where a single drop of water is seen falling from the heavens. The amount of
restraint Jehovah God exercised
that day is something we will
never be able to fully appreciate or
fathom.
But death
is an enemy. No question there.
I'll speak candidly here: I connect with animals far better than I can connect with other people, for reasons that aren't necessary here. I've grieved more at the loss of one of my fur children than I have at the loss of a relative. But it doesn't give me a pass on experiencing that deep, sudden loss.
Deb and I have had fur-babies our entire marriage-- we're birds of a feather, in that respect, of course-- all strays... abandons. Each just looking for a place to hang out for a while, maybe get some room and board in exchange for the only thing one of these fur-babies can offer in exchange: devotion.
It's a beautiful thing.
Good on Daisy for getting in 11 years with you, and you being able to appreciate the devotion she had for you!
The tears, though... that's just love leaking out is all. Gardens of memories don't just happen: you have to water them.
The most difficult part for Deb and me is knowing when it's time to give them rest from their labors. I wish I could say we'd become pragmatic over the years, hardened up a little.
Nope.
There
will be tears.
All of our fur children were unique in their personalities, too. Sarah, our adopted Australian Shepherd would drag herself around like a seal when she was happy, head up, tongue hanging out. On her belly and pull herself around using her front legs. Hilarious, but heartwarming. I miss her and all the others that Jehovah has brought into the lives of Deb and me. Our present family of cats are seniors, save for an abandon that was dropped off on our property around a year ago. Our dog, Bo, is a senior as well, and not in the best of health by any stretch of the imagination.
If you already mentioned it in a post here in the thread, my apologies, because there's been responses aplenty and I'm still needing to work my way through them all... but what was one of Daisy's things she'd do. And how did you two meet?
--Timothy