This blog post was originally planned to be about the bravery needed to feel and express emotions. That post will yet come at a later date, but this post - due to life's unexpected circumstances - is about loving and losing our furry family members.
In September of 2012, we spent a weekend dog sitting a scruffy little guy who had been rescued from a kill shelter in California. He was a wild child! He had lived on the streets in Los Angeles. At best guess, he was about a year and a half old. House training had definitely not been part of his experience to that point in his little life. He thoroughly enjoyed exploring couches, tables, counters, and chairs at high speeds. No plush was safe because his reach seemed limitless.
He was with us for a trial weekend to see if allergies would permit him to stay. The kids were pretty young, so they didn't know he might stay. They just knew he was with us for the weekend. We had no idea on that sunny September weekend what a difference Oli would come to make in our family's life.
Oli arrived at noon on a Friday. By that evening, it had become abundantly clear that he had chosen us. We were on a journey of discovery as a family, recognizing that autism and ADHD played a part in describing our home and how we functioned. I remember the rescue stating that they had been worried no one would adopt Oli because he was just so much. They knew he just needed love, structure, and consistency. Well, our household - filled with wonderfully quirky individuals with a real need for structure and consistency - was a perfect fit. Oli fit for us and we fit for Oli.
We began to see how he connected emotionally with the kids. He started to open up emotional connections that had previously been difficult. He met a need for companionship, snuggles, energy and activity, and physical grounding. He loved our family and as we loved him back. We saw that kids who struggled with physical contact began to value snuggles and hugs. Kids who struggled with emotional regulation found an outlet in running with Oli to help them all regulate.
Oli opened the door to other animals joining our family zoo, as we affectionately began to describe it. Oli was so very social, so less than a year after he joined us, little Miss Eve came to live with us as well. As two terrier mixes, they very quickly became inseparable. Not long after Eve, Rain the cat who had been abandoned in a ditch joined our menagerie. Each animal chose its person.
Seeing the incredible benefit that Oli's presence made in the life of one of our kids in particular, we started exploring the possibility of training a service dog. These early steps were foundational in the development of Sherbert Service Dogs, my daughter's dog training endeavour. She has become a competent, independent, incredibly knowledgeable and thoughtful trainer whose clients absolutely love working with her.
The thing about inviting animals into our lives is that although we know they will likely pass before we do, losing them is never easy. We're not ready to let them go and always wish for more time with them. The grief is real, as is the hole they leave in our hearts. They are irreplaceable. We may adopt another animal and love it fiercely, but each animal, like each person in our lives, fills a different spot in our heart. We are never the same.
Just like grieving for people who have passed, we might experience sadness at seeing their favourite water dish or their favourite spot on the bed. Sometimes the way in which they pass is traumatic and unexpected because they are often good at hiding their pain and discomfort until it becomes unbearable. Sometimes we need to forgive ourselves for the things we didn't get to do and the things we did not know. We may need to allow ourselves to grieve the things we thought they would be a part of - the celebrations we thought they would be there for.
The grief is real. Each of our kids has lost an animal that had a deep and therapeutic relationship with them. As a parent, the grief impacts me on multiple levels. First, I love each of our animals and I feel a deep sense of sadness at their departure. I grieve with my family as I look at the blanket in our office that was Oli and Eve's favourite hangout spot. I feel sad when I realize the pain they had but didn't show us until it became unbearable. And secondly, I grieve deeply for my children. I feel their pain and long to carry it for them, while at the same time knowing that it isn't mine to take away.
Our animals have changed us and I believe they've changed us for the better. The pain is real, but we know it does get easier over time. The hole they leave will never be filled, but in time it will be more filled with beautiful memories than with intense pain.
In memory of the special animals our family has loved, grieved, and continues to remember:
Barron, our first service dog
Rain, the most un-cat-like cat who loved her person like no other
Eve, a sweet, fiery little toy poodle-terrier rescue who despite being the smallest animal in our house was in fact the queen of everything
Oli, a true mutt-mix of a terrier who had boundless energy and love to share
OLI
EVE
RAIN
BARRON
Comments