I have a 12-year-old pitbull who is the love of my life. We rescued her 8 years ago from City Dogs, and since we have had her, she has been my almost constant companion. She supervises me when I’m working, she snores–sometimes gently–in my ear when I sleep, and she snuggles beside me on the couch.
Like every dog owner, I knew when I adopted her that the day would come when I would have to say goodbye, and despite knowing the pain that would come when she left, I still said yes. I had said goodbye to Luke a year before bringing Wendy home, but despite that soul-sucking pain, I still brought her home. In fact, we had adopted Clark just a few months after Luke died, so I knew that I was facing a double dose of pain in my future.
As she has gotten older, the anticipatory grief has reared its painful head more frequently. I’ve looked at her, and my heart has ached a little knowing that someday all I will have are photos. However, I also know that despite the pain of losing Luke, I would never have traded the years we had with him.
Although I find turning away from older pets and loved ones horrendous, there is an ugly little part of my soul that can understand pushing them away to protect your heart. However, I could never look into her sweet brown eyes and turn away. So I choose to accept that one day she will no longer be by my side and to live like she is dying.
Tim McGraw advises in his song “Live Like You Are Dying” to say yes to skydiving and going 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu. And while I’m not signing up to ride a bull or jump out of a plane, I am loving deeper and speaking sweeter as I live like she is dying.
I say yes to chicken nuggets for dinner instead of boring kibble. I say yes to letting her sit in the sun and sit with her when I can. I say yes to snuggles on the couch. I am not as mobile as I once was, so it is hard for me to take her for walks, but her human brother and sister take her and Clark.
I know my heart will break when she is gone. However, from losing Luke in 2017, that pain and love sit side by side, and that one day the love and memories will bring more sweetness than the pain I will feel the day she goes. It has been nine years since Luke left, and now we remember him with stories such as the roast beef he stole from the counter, his love of butter, and how much he loved us. One day, Wendy will also live on as good memories, and I know that the love I feel now is worth every pain that day will bring.