An Update From a Lonely Dog Mom


My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com

It’s been a while between updates these past few months and I apologize for that.

December was hard.

Our boy would have been 16 on Christmas day and while we spent the day with family, I couldn’t stop myself from reminiscing.

My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com

He so loved Christmas and it just wasn’t the same without my Jetster tugging at the wrapping paper of everyone else’s gifts.

The day passed with a few episodes of tears and a lot of sharing our memories of Jet’s wonderful life. It wasn’t the same…but things won’t be the same.

One of my favorite quotes that I clung to when my brother passed was from Maggie Smith: “People say it gets better but it doesn’t. It just gets different, that’s all.”
 
It’s been 8 months since my boy went to the bridge. 8 months without him after 15 1/2 years of constant companionship. I’m still trying to work with this “different” life, still trying to find a rhythm.
 
I’ve lost many dogs throughout my lifetime, my bicycle-herding border collie, my kangaroo jumping whippet mix, my great Dane pit bull alpha dog, my discriminatory chocolate lab who was prejudiced against anything with spots, my yellow lab counter surfer with an appetite for…well, anything…but Jet…Jet was different…
From the day Jet came home to us, he plopped his pink naked belly on my chest and cemented his position in my heart like no other dog had before him.  
If you’ve ever had a “heart dog” then you understand exactly what I  mean, if you haven’t, I hope that someday you might.
Jet very quickly became my shadow.
My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com
If I took a bath, he would lie on the bathmat until I got out, dripping wet, and then he’d hurriedly lick the water droplets off my legs.
If I ran an errand, he would whine at his daddy and walk to the front door where he would watch hopefully for me to come home.
If I worked a late night, he never failed to sit beside me, his head firmly rested on my lap and his gentle snoring reminding me that I was never alone.
My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com
These are the “little things” that I miss the most.
These days I work late nights in the silence of my office, a glaringly obvious absence of that rhythmic snoring and occasional kicking marathon as he chases his dreams. Occasionally I will turn the TV to his favorite programs. We watched the same shows over and over again and by now I know them by heart…
“Where are you going to, little brown mouse…”
Only he isn’t there looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to narrate the mouse’s eventual meeting with the Gruffalo.
I find myself narrating the story anyway hoping that wherever he is now, he can hear me.
My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com
I miss those “little” things too. That look of sheer contentedness, the chance to be a mom even if my kid had four legs instead of two.
I know that sometime in the near future I will look down into another pair of deep brown eyes and if I’m lucky, I’ll see that same glint of admiration. I’ll see that same incredible expression of “Mom, you’re a genius!” even when I’m not really anything special to the rest of the world.
If I’m really lucky, though, if I am given the gift of such undoubting, unconditional companionship for a second time…well, I’d consider myself the luckiest person on the face of this Earth.
My Happy Boy, Copyright Philosophyofdog.com
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1 Comment

  1. January 23, 2018
    Reply

    I’m so sorry for your loss. I completely understand how much you dog meant & means to you! This post almost had me in tears!

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