Moving on, moving forward

There are so few physical reminders left.

I have his tags, that used to hang on a leather Texas A&M collar on his neck. Sometimes, I jingle them in my hand and it sounds like his sprinting and meandering and settling. It sounds like he is here. They sit in a windowsill in the kitchen where I can see them, but Claire can't. I like to look at them. They make me smile.

There are nose prints on the back window of my car, on the passenger side, where he used to ride. Stressy and uncomfortable with the entire concept of riding in an automobile, Jake was constantly in motion back there, constantly looking out the window and smushing his wet nose on it. I see the marks every so often, when I really pay attention to what's back there when I'm buckling Claire in. I'm not sure when we'll get around to washing them off. I kind of don't want to, even though it's kind of yucky. Smeary dog nose prints on the window and all.

His bowls and medications are still on a shelf above the washing machine, where I put them that day, tucked out of view behind a cabinet door.

We gave his bed to Goodwill. Chris threw away his collar (admittedly, it was kind of grody). The remainder of the big bag of dog food is long gone. I know that he would have loved this change in weather to something colder. 

The other day we were coming home from a friend's house, a friend that has dogs. After months of not mentioning him at all, and not really noticing that he was gone in the first place, Claire said,

"Mommy, I want Jake. I want our doggie."

I was really surprised that she brought him up. I had to tell her, once again, but in more specific terms this time, that he's not here any more.

"Where he go, Mommy?"

"Well, Jake died. He's in heaven now."

"With his friends?"

"Yes, with his friends."

"He can bark there? And not get in trouble?"

"Yes, he can bark and run all he wants."

I have so far resisted reading Dog Heaven to her, that sweet Natalie sent us. In fact, the book is hidden in my desk drawer where Claire can't ask any questions about it and I don't have to look at it and be reminded. But, maybe we are ready to read it now, four months later.

Maybe. We'll see.

Sometimes I think I want another dog. Like, now, not in a couple of years or months but NOW. Maybe not a puppy, but probably an older, rescued dog. Someone fluffy and happy and ready to play or sit or just be with us after the kids go to bed. Someone to take on walks with us. Someone to throw things for in the yard. It doesn't make much sense on paper since we travel so much and a dog can't go in the airplane (hell, we have trouble fitting a STROLLER in the airplane) and we're pretty busy just keeping up with the two children and ourselves. I keep trying to shake the idea, to talk myself out of it. After all, long before Jake actually died we talked about how we would want to not have another pet for several years. It makes sense for us to wait.

But, man. I miss him.

Comments

[melissa]

Awww I feel your pain. We lost our dog in March, she was 12. It was the worst day for me in a long time (well until Friday when I had to check the toddler into the hospital for dehydration..parenting fail). We still miss her terribly, but we do now have two new puppies. We only lasted two months without a dog. We only went to look at the puppies, I was not going to BUY anything. But crap, they're soooo cute, and I couldn't separate sisters, and dammit. Now we have two dogs. So beware of the "let's just go look" trips :)

[TUWABVB]

Wow - I so relate to this...my husband and I had SUCH a hard time deciding to adopt a new dog after we lost both of ours. It was over a year and a half before I could even think about it, and even then, I just did it because it was my Valentine's Day gift. My heart wasn't in it. And despite what people told me, I was sure - SURE - that I could never love another dog the way I adored Riley and Murphy.

Imagine my shock when I realized I was wrong. The part of my heart that wasn't done healing yet? Jack healed it immediately with his sunny disposition and wet kisses. I couldn't believe it. I seriously thought I would resent him! Anyway, we went from having two older dogs to have a pup (he was a year when we got him) and the transition has been great for our souls. I still my miss besties...but I have a funny feeling they led us to the fuzzy burst of happiness that's now in our home. I'm not pressuring you either way - I'm just telling you I understand and now know that loving a dog is something special, but thankfully somewhat transferable. :)

[Elsha]

We also decided we would not have dogs for a while (a long while) but I still miss our other dogs.

[Wendy Watkins]

I still have my dog's tags and his collar. He died 15 years ago. My dad didn't wash the window Pepper had slobbered all over for at least a year. I have yet to get another dog, but that's because random cats keep "finding" me. Two months ago, my beloved cat died in the hallway. My 3 year old got to kiss him goodbye. Ava still asks about Jordan now and then. I tear up every time. I tell her he's dead and we will never see him again. I think sometimes the meaning of "never again" hits her, but most of the time it doesn't. It sucks, and hurts.

[Holly]

I have a fleecy sweatshirt that I don't wear very often, but when I did, my cat (the one I had growing up, from age 5-21) loved to sit on me and snuggle a lot. Once after wearing it, I folded it up, and put it away in the drawer, not washing it because I hadn't worn it much. Later, after she died, I was digging through my drawer and found it - cat hair and all. I folded it back up and put it away. I couldn't wash it for another 5 years.

[HereWeGoAJen]

I'm sorry, it really sucks to lose a pet.

[Meghan]

I'm really sorry. Losing a pet is so hard. It's like losing a family member but the rest of the world doesn't always see it that way. Hugs to you