Every pet that enters our lives has a special place in our hearts, without a doubt. I can rattle off the list of the menagerie I’ve lived with and tell you stories for hours. But within that hierarchy, there is always that one special one- your heart dog (or cat or horse…), as Dr. Crosby has so aptly described it. The one who really taught you what this whole pet-having-thing is all about.
I can talk about all my departed pets with a smile and a wistful remembrance. But when you ask about my heart dog, there’s a pause first. The pause where I stumble into that little hole that time refuses to entirely fill back up. I pause, let the twinge of grief roll over me, then tell you about Emmett. I speak about him a little more briefly than I do my other pets, if you happen to notice- because I can’t get through everything I want to say about him without tearing up, even now, months later.
I wish I knew exactly what it was that makes a dog a heart dog as opposed to a dog you love a whole lot. Shared experience? Similar personality? A particular understanding that goes deeper than the usual personality descriptors? I don’t know how it happens or why, but I know it when I see it. And I know when so many of you responded in past posts on the topic that many of you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Meet Bailey, beloved heart dog of Lisa and the inspiration for this post:
Beautiful, isn’t she?
Bailey left in July after a brief and intense struggle with a mast cell tumor. Lisa and I have a lot in common. She writes:
“My beautiful girl and I had 12 1/2 years together. We went through so much, both good and bad, during that time. Although her 2-year-old “sister” Sophie is still with us, and we have adopted a new puppy, no one can ease the pain of her loss for me. I asked her to help me pick out the new pup so that we would have a “people dog” like she was, and I think she did a great job. But I still cry for her and there is a hole in my heart that will never be filled.
I hope that time will help to ease the pain of her loss. And I hope that I will see her again some day. The memory of her loving, soulful eyes, her soft chocolate fur, and the absolute and total love that we felt for each other is indeed precious, and I know that those memories will someday take precedence over the sad ones. I write letters to her and talk to her regularly, and will love her forever.”
Hold onto your hankies, guys. Want to see a heart dog connection captured perfectly?
No need for words to get what that picture is saying.
Lisa posed the question, “How do you get over that kind of loss?” and I said I would be happy to address it. Then I realized I don’t have any idea, seeing as I am still kind of coming to terms with my loss myself. I am so glad I had this blog when I was going through my experience with Emmett, because otherwise it would have felt so lonely. There’s only so much your friends can listen to you talk about your dog’s chemo and how you can’t bring yourself to throw away the dog dish before they start changing the topic on you.
For me, sharing, and having other people respond was more helpful than anything else. I know I’ve done it once before, but it’s worth doing again- I’ll open it to the floor. Who was your heart pet? What helped you come to terms with their loss (if they are no longer with you.) I’m not going anywhere, I might as well get to know all of you better, right?
And to start: Lisa, my heart ached for you reading your every word. It’s evident how much Bailey is missed. Thank you for sharing her with us.
Dedicated to Bailey- puppy heart, soul mate, kind soul, sorely missed.
Thank you so much, Dr. V. Interesting that you talked about the food bowl — that was the last thing that I let go of. (I donated her food, meds, toys, etc. to a local rescue group and my vet, who works with the rescue groups and local shelter.) I still have her leash and collar, though, and I imagine I will keep them always. And you’re right, there’s no one like the heart dog….. I miss you, Bailey-Boo!
Beautiful post and such great photos. Thanks to Dr V and to Lisa for sharing this. I am donating $50 dollars in memory of my own beloved heart dog.
Another amazing, tear inducing post. Thank you.
I don’t think holes can ever be filled. Other parts of your heart can open up because everyone has a distinct personality. I know each and every one of them has a special place in my heart – something I certainly took stock of once my own Bailey got sick.
With time, we are able to process what we at first couldn’t. We went from the belief of (perhaps naively) “curable illness” to “terminal”. It was a kick in the gut. That, coupled with the actual loss, made it all the more tough. People said it would get easier. I don’t think that was quite right. I think the best way to describe it is less intense.
I kept telling myself it should not have been as prolonged and painful as it was. Once I stopped being so hard on myself, that in of itself helped ease the pain by releasing a burden and things naturally worked out on their own.
I’ve been reading this blog for a while, but this is my first time coming out of the woodwork to post.
First, Bailey is beautiful. She looks so sweet and I just want to hug her. My heart goes out to you Lisa…there are no words to adequately describe a love like yours. The wedding (I’m assuming that’s what it was) picture had me bawling.
Second, I haven’t met my heart dog yet, but my father had found his. A Brittany by the name of Ranger, who was an incredible dog. He could be aggressive if he needed to, but he had all the patience in the world to let me climb all over him and ride him around the house when I was really little. He was beautiful too…he was show dog quality, but was barely an inch too tall to show. Range was my father’s hunting buddy…my dad never went duck- or pheasant-hunting without him. I remember the day my dad realized that it was time for Ranger to go. He took him to our local Humane Society, but not before stopping at a Burger King to get him a whole Whopper to eat by himself.
He keeps a gorgeous black and white photo of Ranger as a puppy in his workshop and has Ranger’s last collar hiding somewhere in his top dresser drawer. And, whenever he drives by the Humane Society (which has a garden where they spread the ashes of animals who have passed on and is where Ranger rests now, along with his feline friend Sneakers), he tells Range that he misses him and then he cries. My father isn’t a man who shows his emotions, even to my mother and me, and he rarely tears up.
Their story gets to me, even now. I’ve been crying my eyes out while typing this, hoping that my fiancé doesn’t glance over and feel the need to comfort me excessively. =)
Thank you Kayti. And yes, she was the flower dog at our wedding almost 3 1/2 years ago. That’s one of my favorite memories…
And thank you for sharing the story of your dad and Ranger.
It always gets me the most when the men cry- I see it so rarely.
ahh my heart dog, her name was Barlee and she was a beautiful yellow labrador and I shared my life with her for 14 yrs. She was a birthday gift from my soon to be husband. We shared everthing. When I let her go I vowed no more dogs in my life, loosing her was one of the hardest things I ever went through It took me 4 yrs to even think about bringing another dog into my life. 6 months later I brought a black labrador pup home, 18 months later a 10 month old yellow labrador. They filled a huge void in my life but it I did not have the same feeling with them as much as I loved them dearly. There was another young labrador living close by ( he was owned by a neighbour and terribly neglected ).. Something made me look out for him during his first yr even though I kept telling myself I wasn’t having anything to do with him. I fed him and made sure he had water and called Animal Control to report his neglect.
I am sure you can see what’s coming here. I ended up with Raider, but told myself I would find him a good home.. but deep down I knew this boy was mine and had from the first time I saw him.. Shortly after his first birthday and 4 months after he became mine officially he was diagnosed with Addison’s. I lost one heart dog but Barlee guided me to Raider, and he is also my heart dog which I would not have believed was possible ever again.
When I think of Barlee now I still catch my breath and have to pause, but I look at Raider and know Barlee approves…
You had 2 heart dogs- I love that. I always wonder if it will happen to me again. How is Raider doing? I love that Barlee chose him.
Neither did I but when it happens you know it deep down inside. Raider is doing amazing, he was diagnosed just over three years ago and he doesn’t know he is supposed to have a serious disease and we don’t tell him. Helives life to the fullest doing everything and anything his heart desires.
Is it silly to say my heart-dog was Missy, who I had when I was 9? For most of my life I didn’t want another dog. I just couldn’t imagine loving one as much as I loved her. Now, I have two heart-kitties, and they are more precious to me than anything in the world. I think it’s true what Kim said… no pet can ever replace another, but another part of your heart can open up to them.
This is a beautiful tribute to Bailey. I hope, Lisa, that your pain eases in intensity but that Bailey always holds her special place with you. I’m sure she will 🙂
I do believe you can have more than one Heart Dog. I think our heart can hold an unlimited amount of love, like dogs do. My husband cried over losing our GD Willow, Feb 2009. 3 days later we were offered a GD puppy, Xander. You know we have it (love) bad when we rather be home with him than our friends. Xander has brought so much joy to our lives. The blogging & tweeting community has really helped us with our loss. We buried Willow on our property, under a redbud tree & hung her collar on a branch above her.
This post made me cry.
All my pets have been incredibly close to me, and very important, but my little girl Pandora (I have only cats now) is my heart pet for sure. She was the runt of the litter of kittens, and I chose her because she was the smallest, and also the loudest, squalling after the food. It was very cute. 🙂 She just turned 11 today.
Heart Dog = Baxter
Heart Cat = Herman Roosevelt Quinn
miss them…
Late to post on this one, but my heart dog was Shaq. He was a black Lab who was with me for 12 years, then I lost him to the evilness of bone cancer. The 6 weeks we had together after his diagnosis was a time I will never forget. I poured everything my soul had into being with that dog. I lived and breathed Shaq. When I was near him, I could practically feel love radiating from him. It’s been almost 3 years since Shaq left us, but I can still cry like it was 3 days ago. I did rescue another Lab a couple of months after losing Shaq, and I do love him, but love does not = a heart dog. That’s beyond love. I would hope to have another one in my life, but I don’t really expect to.
Thanks for sharing Bailey with us, Lisa. What a beautiful story and a beautiful pup.
My heart cat was Miles, who we lost a little over a year ago. I still haven’t found a way to get over him, so I can’t answer the question. 🙁
My heart dog was named Clover. She was an irish setter-lab-airdale mix with beautiful red fur and infinite patience. I was 7 when my parents brought her home as a puppy; she passed away under mysterious, but probably old age related, circumstances when I was a sophomore away at college. She endured my lavishing attention on her, putting her in hats and costumes, and taking hundreds of pictures and videos of her over the years. She adored our swimming pool and until her hips started bothering her would even jump off of the low diving board for toys. (Somewhere in my parents’ house there is a really awesome video of her as “AquaDog” the aquatic canine superhero.) I still mist up sometimes when I think about her now, even though its been over 6 years.
My parents adopted a shelter dog 2 years after we lost Clover, and the new girl is a sweetheart (if a bit of a troublemaker) but she’s not my dog really since I don’t live with my folks. I’m waiting impatiently until I find my own place with a dog-friendly yard to seek out my own furry companion.
I’ve come to think that a heart dog is you…only in canine form. Blade was me in every essence: his attitude, his energy, his stubborness, his love. He was me in dog form, I was him in human form and we fit together perfectly.
I think I will only have one heart dog. I will have dogs that mean the world to me though but none will ever fill that hole that Blade left. Cookie…she’s my rescuer.