I know I said I wouldn’t write any personal posts until the kids went back to school but this past weekend we lost a family member and when I am grieving, writing is my biggest form of therapy.
My parents’ dog, Tink, went to Heaven early in the morning of July 29th. It was unexpected but not really as she had been sick for a few weeks before her leaving us. But I say unexpected because when our pets leave us, it is always a shock, always too soon and never something you plan for.
Losing a pet is the hardest part of having a pet because they are never here long enough.
I have written about Tinky here and there over the past seven years and even though I never lived with her, she is the dog in my life that I have been the closest to (besides Buddy) for many reasons but mostly because she was the most loving dog that they ever owned. Not to say the dogs I grew up with weren’t loving, they were in their own ways, but Tinky, she just loved my little family like we were a part of her life every day.
And that is a special dog.
She was blessed to have my parents as her parents; they put her needs ahead of theirs, treated her like she was truly family and loved her unconditionally.
She in return was the best companion to my parents for 11 years. Helping them get through the death of my grandma, my mom’s cancer, and two big moves.
Thank you, sister dog, for taking such good care of my mom and dad for so many years. I am eternally grateful for you and I will always love you. Rest easy, sweet puppy.
A Dog’s Purpose According to a Six-Year-Old
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ‘I know why.’
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation. He said, ‘People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?’
The six-year-old continued, ‘Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.’