I lost my first GSD Sam when I was 8. He had Cancer and passed peacefully in his sleep lying on my bed protecting me to the end...
My Grandfather, perhaps the wisest man to ever walk the Earth (in my opinion anyway) explained to me that our animals come into our lives to teach us things, and when we learn their lessons they leave us. I told him that I won't ever learn their lessons then, if it meant I was going to lose my dog. He explained that sometimes the lesson they teach us is how to cope with a loss...
Sam was my very first significant loss, followed a year later by my Grandfather. Losing Sam prepared me for my grandfather's loss- if that makes any sense..
For many of us, our first lesson in loss was the death of a dear family pet. And I am sure that most of us remember what we were told about death- stories about the Rainbow Bridge or Heaven. When confronted with the death of a human family member, those stories give us comfort and make the loss not so scary, and not so final.
The thing that takes care IMO is not the loss of the beloved pet itself-I 100% agree, a life lesson -- but that the parent commissions the death, orders the death.
It takes a bit of age before a child can understand how an ordered death can possibly be justified.
I copied this story from an email that was sent around. I do not know if it was a true story but it does provoke some thought about kids and the loss of a family pet. As parents it is critical how we handle such a situation. My son was 14 when we had to make this decision for his red heeler Daisy. She was 12 and had not been able to get in the gator by herself for some time. He or my husband would pick her up to place her in the gator to go feed cows. She loved to ride and "guard" the feed from the cattle. When a storm came, she would hide in the gator, that was her safe place. The morning that she could no longer get up off her bed in the garage we called the vet. My husband had to leave but my son went and dug a grave for her in the pasture then we brought the gator to the house and placed her in it. That is where the vet put her to sleep while we reminisced about her. My son insisted that he would bury her himself and drove her to the grave he had dug and buried her. I was so proud of him for knowing how to honor her life.
The point is to honor life whether it be a pet or human. Every living creature deserves respect and honor for what they meant in our lives.
Tresa Hendrix Webboard User Reg: 05-08-2008
Posts: 1473
Loc: Alaska
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Kelly, I love your grampa for that! Logan is my 4th dog, each dog before died, too suddenly. My first dog Sport sort of grew up with me, she was very shy, sweet and intelligent. Through her I learned to be more open to others emotionally, she helped me when I was severely depressed, she was very difficult from her fearfulness so I learned to empathize and train her with kindness. Then I got off on a bad road in my life and neglected her (left her at home all the time)...then she got very sick and she died I think from being so sad. All I can say is I will never do that again, I got my crap strait after that too.
I won't go into all of them. Logan is the most PITA dog I have ever met sometimes, (and have met several Dutchies and difficult pets people have and other working dogs)! I love him and work with him every day. I know he's also here to help me, so far he has a lot....and I'm still learning. He's teaching me to be calm, I can't focus him unless *I* am calm. He's also not live-with-able unless I do a lot with him everyday, which forces me to maintain a routine and keeps me healthy.
Its ironic because when I first met Logan, I knew he was supposed to be my dogs, I felt so strongly I tried to bribe the owner to sell him for a lot of money...he said no! So I never forgot him and never 6 months later the owner called me and said I could have him...free, just have him (nothing wrong with him)! Meant to be.
Even weirder, once while not in my right mind I tried to get rid of him...he was going to be a drug/patrol dog but they couldn't find an exp handler and he got too old...a few months later he saved me, meant to be. Now I appreciate him a lot. Sorry I'm rambling now!
A tired dog is a good dog, a trained dog is a better dog.
At our home pets have trees or shrubs planted over their graves. When my kids come home they often look at the trees and comment on how big they are now. It was a nice family tradition.
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