Dogs Are Our Constant Companions

by Jean Norfolk

There is so much pleasure and happiness in owning a dog, but when a dog's life comes to an end there is so much pain and anguish.
When I lost my dog, William, I was totally devastated. I know it may sound callous and harsh, but the grief I felt when he died was far worse than anything I had felt when close members of my family passed away. Perhaps it was because all my children now had homes and families of their own and 'Bill' had been my only companion.
When my dog died I felt such a dreadful sense of pain and loss. For the first time in my life I found myself in such deep despair. I wanted to die too. He had been my life for so long that I couldn't contemplate a future without him. Every single corner of my home had a reminder of Bill. His favourite rug where he would curl up and sleep, or the rug on the floor at the bottom of my bed which he claimed as his. I was filled with such a powerful longing to see him once more and would stand by the window and look out at the spot by the gate where he sat for hours waiting for visitors to arrive. I began to think that if I concentrated hard enough I might actually see him!
Now, when I'm out walking on my own, I feel that a part of me is missing, because for the best part of 14 years he was my constant companion. I walked, ran, played games, fed him and talked to him right through from our first tentative attempts to get to know each other, to the rich, beautiful years that followed when we had formed a relationship that was beyond compare. He was my joy and my true friend, and I simply adored him.
Having him put to sleep was the most traumatic experience of my life and I honestly didn't believe I could cope with my loss. It was catastrophic. The heartache I felt was dreadful. Now I have come to realise that when a beloved pet dies the most important thing to do is to talk about them. I desperately wanted to talk about Bill, but as I lived alone there was no one there to listen. If my family visited it seemed that they purposely avoided mentioning him for fear of upsetting me, whilst I was longing to let out my grief and talk about this lovely old dog who had such a colossal impact on my life.
I firmly believe that grieving alone simply extends the grieving process and makes it far more painful. You need to talk about your loss with someone over and over again if necessary. Pouring out your thoughts, feelings and memories means that you pour out your grief too, and even after one such conversation your spirits are a little lighter. Now almost two years later, I still grieve for Bill and deep inside I always will, but time (and talking about him!) has eased the burden that I carried around for so long. I now accept his passing as one of life's lessons.
A dog's lifespan is shorter than ours, so we have to acknowledge that their journey through life will cover fewer miles than ours. Somewhere along the route we will have to part company. Now I can look at his photographs without weeping, although my heart secretly still aches for him. Going outside to do a spot of gardening is a thankless, lonesome task now. It was somehow comforting then to work hard and glance across occasionally to see him lying on the lawn watching me (no doubt thinking, "Wish she'd hurry up and take me for a walk!")
Sometimes I experience an almost physical ache to pet and stroke a dog once more, and if I see a dog that resembles Bill, I feel a lump in my throat. How can anyone say they don't like dogs?
Bill was just a crossbred mutt that nobody wanted, except me, and I count myself as the luckiest person alive to have shared my life with him. He gave me so much joy and pleasure.
Thankfully, I have at last come to realise that after grief there comes a time for giving thanks and for celebrating the life of a creature that gave me so much pleasure. Writing about my experiences with William has helped me to come to terms with my loss. I am so grateful for the rich, yet sadly all too short years when I was blessed with the greatest gift of all. The love and trust of a beautiful dog.
( by Jean Norfolk )