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Faira
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Right: Faira in training at Hewlett Packard.
But, she got released from advanced training (only 30% of them make it through and become service dogs) and I adopted her back as my very own canine companion.
So this moment, one day after Faira left behind her beautiful blond fury body that grayed gracefully as she aged, I feel the pain of her suffering and our mutual loss.
Her suffering was unintended. I had tentatively arranged to have my vet or a mobile vet come to the house when it was time. This was after contemplating what is more humane: letting nature run its course as we do with people, or putting her down as most pet owners do. I decided I don’t understand why we let, no why we “make” people suffer so long, even against their will, by law. They are often drugged in their suffering, but I think they still suffer. So I decided when the time was right, and people told me I would know when that was, I would have her put to sleep.
Well laid plans gone awry:
– Thanksgiving weekend, Saturday night,
– My bad shoulder, sick roommate, small car, bad timing
– Camped in living room, by her side, soothing her, feeling her pain
– Endless panting, unable to catch her breath, hour after hour
– Bodily functions rebelling
– A long storm
– A little quiet
– A dramatic crescendo
– Her life in this world is gone
– Her body still here, sweet and soft
– Regret
– Hindsight
– If only I had
– I could have
– Sorrow
– How bittersweet our life and love
On my altar for Faira there are pictures from puppy-hood up until not so long ago, backlit by candles, flowers, and a card from my neighbor.
The card reads:
On the other side
of the bridge to forever,
our animal friends
wait for us.
Goodbye hurts so much.
But some day you’ll think of
your animal friend with smiles instead of tears.
And it will feel as if this little soul,
left a rainbow in your heart.
Why do we love our animal friends so much? Already I am remembering and that empty ache where my heart used to be is beginning to get the first glimmer of a rainbow:
– Her distinct personality: present, affirming, responsive, happy, gentle, her “foodie”-ness
– Mutual interdependence
– A shared language
– Letting me know what she needed
– – Teaching me about unconditional love and re-learning to play
– Our good morning and good night routines
– Her smiles, that always reminded me of a dolphin’s
– Her endless enthusiasm and joy
– Her love of swimming, collecting rocks, and diving for logs and rocks in the water--disappearing to the bottom of the lake or pool
– Walks and roller-blading together
– Walks through the neighborhood with all 3 of us, kitty Timba included, by Faira’s side
– Being greeted so happily
– Doggie baths and rubdowns
– Frolicking in the grass
– Her checking in on me; making me take a break
– How happy doggie cookies made her, or any food for that matter
– Kinder-puppy school
– Her training cape and going out in the community
– The joy and smiles she brought to those who saw or met her, in unexpected places--the store, the workplace, the hospital…
– Doggie therapy for myself, anytime I wanted it"
– The 9 lives she had, always bouncing back, until the very end
Remaining: Miss Faira and Mr. Timba hanging out.
Sometimes I think I hear her breathing near me, or the doggie door noise, or her toenails clicking on oak flooring. Is it just my imagination? I round the corner and expect to see her. No one greets me when I arrive home. No one is checking in on me and making me take a break. I miss her.
I have been anticipating this. But how do I go forward? I have been wondering if I should get another dog. Why do we choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own? Unless your pet is an elephant or a dolphin, you are bound to outlive them a few times over. It is a setup for heartbreak. But after this reflection, I can’t imagine why, if it brings me so much joy, shouldn’t I, or more accurately, wouldn’t I? More than that I feel that if I don’t, I will be consciously depriving myself of something I dearly love and cherish. Mr. Timba needs another companion too. He was comforted by Faira’s presence; he would rub up on her, walk under her, and stroll by her side down the street on our walks.
From this moment forward I shall continue to build a rainbow in my heart made of sweet memories of Miss Faira’s essence and body, especially her sweet smiling face. And I will begin to plan getting another dog. There are so many choices and considerations. Should I be a volunteer puppy raiser for Canine Companions again and raise another golden retriever that isn’t mine, secretly hoping to be able to adopt it if it doesn’t make it through advanced training? Like Miss Faira. Or get a miniature dog and take it with me in my purse wherever I go?
One thing is clear – I want a dog I can take everywhere – to be at my side and bring unexpected joy to unsuspecting shoppers, workers, and well, everybody.
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A week has gone by now and I got Faira’s ashes back today. It kind of broke my heart all over again I had to re-flect and re-member on what had happened and how I will move forward. The whole process has been a profound experience:
– Witnessing suffering and the process of death
– Losing my companion
– Realizing how much joy Faira brought into my life
– Being reminded what’s important in life – our loving relationships
– Being grateful for the love I’ve had
– And longing for such love again
I have been saying since my Dad’s death in 1984 that I need to get better at dealing with death. Not that it will ever be easy, but stuffing my emotions for 7 years before processing it was not healthy. This may look overboard doing such a eulogy for a dog. But two things. One is that “pets are people too, they’re even better than people” as one of my sisters (who shall remain unnamed) recently told me, and they are part of our families. For a single person with no kids living two states away from her family, Faira has been my main family. And two, this process with Faira the way that it turned out, and the reflection I’ve done on it right away, has been a blessing. While I still cry returning unused food to the pet store, or seeing someone with a golden retriever puppy who also lost their golden retriever not long ago, I know now that I can make it through the whole process, with my eyes and heart open, and it will be okay, and I will be okay.
From this moment forward I know the pain I still feel will fade and a rainbow will take its place, and the tears will fade to smiles. From this moment forward I know I will risk loving and being loved again, unconditionally, by a sweet canine companion (and maybe a man some day again too, although that I’m sure, won’t be unconditional).
December, 2007
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