When My Dog Dies

Often, I think of my first Bichon Frise dog, Wolfgang, a Canary Island favorite.

Bichon's disposition and temperament is distinguished, and, memorable.

After 13 years of joy as my family pet, this pure-white beauty died after kidney problems, among others ailments.

Finally, I needed to recognize that his dying was about him more than about me.

And, I had to euthanize him, although it was a most difficult task.

Grief is a process.

It took time for me to come to terms with the loss of this faithful, unconditional companion.

Wolfgang greeted me at the door as I came home each night. 

With exuberance, he jumped and licked, and delighted me each time.

Pets are part of one's family.  He was always there.

Loyal, and more.

Too watch him struggle those final days was wrenching.

And, when they die, a part of their family passes also.

Yet, I relish the time I had with him at home, the jogs we ran, the routine of eating together, and playing often.

How one gets through the loss of a pet who dies, I'll never know.

Human grief is as grueling a process of wondering if I did all I could to keep Wolfgang well, and more.

When I finally had to put Wolfgang down, we had our exit time, and the doctor injected the medicine.

Dear God,
I'm grateful for the time
with Wolfgang.
You gave us pets like guardians to be companions.

Like all life, however, that moment of breathlessness
takes my breath away.
It did.

Such an unconditional love manifest in Wolfgang is unmatched.

No one dies until I die, however.  Memory and more lives on in me to savor long and forever.

Amen.