My Novels

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Getting Clarity--From My Dog



Two days ago, on what was otherwise a beautiful Sunday morning, I had to say good-bye to my beloved dog, Bailey. Not a pleasant way to start a blog post, but stay with me—it does get better. This is the fourth time I have lost a pet, but due to unfortunate circumstances with my other puppies (and yes, no matter their age, to me they are always pups), this was the first time I was able to be with my girl when she passed. She had cancer, and it had gotten very difficult for her to breathe. When she was sedated and fell asleep, for the first time in many, many days, she was breathing perfectly normally.  It was so wonderful to see that.  Then, in maybe about a half minute later, her breathing stopped, and we said are final good-byes.

Yeah, I know. You are probably thinking, where is the gets better part? It happened when I got home, and it has to do with my grandmother, one of the main characters in my next novel, A Life Well Loved. You see, when I got home, the first thing I wanted to do, needed to do, is put all traces of Bailey away.  I put away her food and water bowls, her bed. Threw out the rest of her dog food. There weren’t any toys to put away. Bailey was a recliner, meaning she wasn’t  one to play with toys or even play that much. She enjoyed being lazy other than a game of chase, a walk, or exploring the back yard.  But I didn’t want to see a bowl full of water that would never be splashed again from her being such a sloppy drinker or the box of Frosty Paws in the freezer that would never get eaten.  With all of those things put away, now all I see are the memories.  Now, the quiet in this house is not quite as sad. 

My Bailey

On the day my grandfather died back in 1968, my grandmother came home from the hospital and immediately started to pack up his things.  She would ask us if there was something we wanted of his to keep. Otherwise, it went into the donation box or was thrown away.  For years I would wonder why she did that or how she could just be rid of what was grandpa’s life so easily and quickly. There were times I even felt anger towards her because of her actions. I never told her that, and I never asked her why. I simply believed it was her way to grieve, because that is something so personal to everyone, and there is no right or wrong way to get through the loss of a loved one.

Now, after almost 47 years, I got it. I actually got it! She did that, not to forget the love of her life. She did that because she didn’t want to see the clothes he would never wear again, the tools from his workshop that would forever remain quiet, never to build another shelf or toy for a grandchild, the pipes he would never smoke again. She didn’t need to see those things laying around unused. As she emptied her home of the physical being that made up Harry Limric, she now had all those memories of over 59 years of marriage. Now she could hear those workshop tools whenever she wanted or smell the tobacco from his pipe.  When I removed all the things that were a part of my Bailey, I understood. I completely understood. No, it doesn’t take away the pain, but it makes it so much easier to hold those memories. And it does make the break in my heart a little smaller. Who would have thought that a 3-month-old puppy rescued from a shelter and who gave us 12 years of pure joy and laughter would have brought such clarity to something I could never understand before.  Right now, my house is too quiet. I think I’ll go out to the back yard and remember the fun Bailey had chasing after the tiny lizards she could never catch or reassuring me she wasn’t  going to fall in the fountain.

As always, thanks for reading, and if you have a pet in your household, give them a little extra hug from me. Enjoy your day!

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