The death of a pet: One year later

On By somegeektoldme@gmail.comIn Animals

I’ve known this blog post was coming up, but I still wasn’t prepared for it. That sounds quite ridiculous, considering that, apart from the endless staff who work for me, I plan and write the awkward content that goes on here.

Even with the title, I’m going to give you some spoilers about this blog post. Today’s lecture will not be filled with rainbows, ponies and ice creams. I’m sorry, but it really won’t. So, I won’t be offended if it’s not for you, because it’s not even for me.

Over the weekend, it marked the first anniversary of the death of our dog, Indy. See, I told you this was not going to be fun. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to navigate my feelings and thoughts around this, so I need to turn back the clock first.

It’s important to note that Indy was my future wife’s dog before I met him. He was the runt of his litter, and my wife was present when he was born. A friend of hers owned Indy’s parents and planned to sell the puppies later on. My wife initially had no intention of adopting a puppy because her living situation wasn’t ideal for one.

However, fate had other ideas, because as the weeks passed, nobody wanted him because of his small stature. If nobody adopted him, then he might have been given to an animal charity centre. My wife didn’t want that to happen to him, so they chose each other.

Indy looking fabulous at a Christmas party.

My wife and Indy became an inseparable pair, and six months later, they met me. And after many dates, the two of them asked me to join their team. Sometime later, it became official with a wedding. The interesting thing about me before I met Indy and my future wife was that I was mourning our family dog, Jack.

I was living in another city when Jack got very ill and died. I felt disconnected from that event, and I took his death really hard. During this grieving period, I purposely avoided petting or playing with dogs. It didn’t even matter that they were my friends’ dogs; I just didn’t want to touch them. It felt wrong to do that, so I avoided being around them.

As I mentioned previously, fate had other ideas. When I met my future wife for our first date, she brought Indy to keep her company. She later said that Indy was her measuring stick for her dates: if Indy didn’t like the date, or if the date didn’t like him, there would be no second date.

I knew she had brought her dog with her, but I had not fully processed what that would mean. As I sat down and tried to act like a normal single male with a beautiful woman, I needed to come to terms with the fact that there was a dog, who was begging for some pats and belly rubs. I discovered that I couldn’t say no to him.

It was weeks later that my future wife informed me that the reason we had a second date, was because I was kind to Indy and that he liked me. I had no idea that the course of my life was going to depend on whether a dog liked me or not.

The more time I spent around Indy, the more it revealed a few things about myself that were a surprise. The obvious point was that I had to acknowledge that I missed having a dog in my life.

What I didn’t realise at the time was that Indy was helping me heal the hole in my heart left by Jack’s death. He also helped me understand that being part of a team with a beautiful woman wasn’t a daunting idea. I wasn’t as frightened as I thought I would be. This little dog saved me in ways I didn’t realise I needed saving.

Indy claiming his spot in our bed.

So, let’s get back to the title of the blog. It’s been one year since Indy died, so what has life been like? I guess it depends on how honest I want to be. I would be lying if I said that it has been easy, with the first two months being pretty rough.

I know people grieve in different ways, because we are all different. But how does someone grieve and mourn for a pet? What’s the best way to do this? Having said that, I’m not sure how to explain things, but I’ll give it a go.

We have encouraged UMC1 and UMC2 to discuss Indy when they wanted to, whether to talk about his misadventures or just to state the fact that they miss him. UMC2 talks about him more than UMC1, but I know they both miss and love him.

For myself, I’m content to talk about him, but it heavily relies on the context of the discussion. Sometimes I can joke about him and retell stories, but other times, I still have to leave the room after talking about him.

I suppose the grief is always sitting there, just under the skin, and all it takes is a small scratch to reveal it. I’m left thinking, “Wow, where did that reaction come from?” I also know that he’s been gone for a year, but I still catch myself doing things, mainly out of habit.

  • When my wife picks me up from work, I have to stop myself from asking how Indy’s day has been.
  • When calling my wife from work, I have to stop myself from asking how Indy’s day has been.
  • I find myself wanting to check the bed before sitting on it, so I don’t hurt Indy.

We miss and love Indy, and he loved us. So what do you do with the leftover love? UMC1 and UMC2 would like to get another dog soon; however, my wife and I are not ready for that. We want to be, just not yet.

I remember reading somewhere that not loving another pet after a pet’s death is a sin. There are so many pets out there that need loving families to take care of them, and we will do that again, just not yet. My wife is worried she would compare the new dog to Indy, and that wouldn’t be fair to the new dog. As for me, I guess I have more healing to be done.

Indy catching up on some well deserved rest.

It was awkward going to Indy’s favourite places around town, but this has been getting better. We were at the beach the other day, when UMC2 pointed to a dog and stated that the dog looked like Indy’s clone. That caught me by surprise, but he wasn’t angry or sad about it; it was just an observation.

Something that has shocked me has been my ability to talk to and hug other dogs. After Jack died, I isolated my heart from dogs and avoided being around them. After Indy’s death, I didn’t want to make the same mistake, so I decided that when I would meet a dog, I would give it lots of pats and hugs. It’s not their fault, they want to get some attention from a faulty human.

This has been great because it’s allowed me to discuss the dog with the owner. Sometimes Indy comes up in conversations, and sometimes he doesn’t. It’s been helpful.

We have photos of Indy around the house, and I have photos of Indy and Jack, next to each other, on my desk. The dogs never met in life, but part of me hopes they have met in the afterlife.

This blog post is ultimately not as good as I had hoped it would be, as I have stopped several times to think about him and let the experience wash over me. The more I think about Indy, the more I have to write. But the more I write about him, the more I have to stop and compose myself.

Indy was a fucking good dog, not just to me, the boys and my wife, but to everybody. He changed my life, and as long as we continue to talk about his misadventures, our memories and love for him will never be gone.

I’m done now. Thank you for continuing to read, follow, and subscribe to Some Geek Told Me. If you have a pet, please do me a favour and hug them. I’ll see you next week for the return of We Didn’t Start the Fire.