Sunday, November 30, 2014

R.I.P. my hairy friend


My girlfriend called me yesterday while I was in Duluth on a short vacation. She informed me she had to make the decision to put Jackson, the best Golden Retriever I have ever known, down.  She needed to do it, sooner than later.  Just like Annie before him, he was recently riddled with health issues in his old age (over 77 dog years).  For almost two months his health diminished.  He had lost about 20 pounds and over 70% of his hair.  We had been medicating him for a few months already as Shelley took him to the Vet yesterday (the day after Thanksgiving).  He was having trouble breathing and at times, standing.


She was told she could medicate him and maybe receive a few months, but the quality of life was highly questionable.  We’ve been in denial for a few weeks. This is not an easy decision, especially for her as this is the best dog she ever had as a companion. 

Shelley had gained her new friend, Jackson, a very short time after her divorce, 11 years ago.  He was just over six months old when I met Shelley.  Those who know me know I have a tendency to not allow myself to be close to dogs, as I know they should die well before me.  I know from my youth, people and dogs die, so I protect my heart.  I had a dog I loved as a child die and I had six high school friends die between ages 14-19 years old.  Death is inevitable and painful, unless your the one who is dead.

Jackson was no ordinary dog.  He always looked at me with the highest of admiration and always sought my appreciation.  He really wanted to be my friend.  For years, I was reluctant to show my appreciation for him.  Then after 5 years, he was becoming my buddy.  The love and appreciation grew.  Over the past year, I think he was just as much my best pal as he was my girlfriend's pal.  So putting him down hurt, but nowhere as near as much as it is for her.


When it came to attention, love and affection, and a steady flow of dropped food, Jackson knew that sticking by me was a win-win situation.  He greeted me every morning when I woke.  His old eyes just looked at me with affection.  Each night when I came home from work, he met me at the door.  We would go outside for a while then inside to get a treat and a good scratch.   

When I was at my computer, he would lie down next to me and at times, me his wet nose under my arm to seek affection, which I always gave with the highest of appreciation for being a great pal!



He had the unique behavior when we went on a walk, he would put his leash in his mouth so he did not bark.  He always loved to eat grass!  At times, I thought he was more like a cow than a dog.  He was also a protector.  Well kind of as he barked hard at anyone he did not know but then immediately became mush if challenged.

You see, all dogs are different.  I know Jackson was special.  Even the same breed would no doubt have a different personality, quirks, and abilities.  Annie, my girlfriends older Golden Retriever, was not the same.  I never grew attached to Annie, as she did not care if I liked her or not.  But Jackson wanted to be my best friend.  He never gave up, and now I feel the pain for a loss of a dog.  One I never wanted to experience again after my first experience at a young age.  I will get through this, I know.

I worry about my girlfriend.  She is really struck with grief.  I typically minimize the grief from pet loss, although I have read quite a bit as my own father once had more grief from pet loss than I understood.  I once thought if I died, may father would have fewer issues than if the dog dies.

When we returned from Duluth, my son tried to get my girlfriend to smile and he succeeded.  This was a blessing to her.  More than he will know.  He made a snow dog for the front yard as a memorial.

Making the dog

Scratching the ear




In the mid-1980's I never understood the heartfelt pains over a loss of a pet.  In fact, I thought it was a worthless emotion.  My father caused this as he kicked me out of the house when I let the dog out and he ran away.  He cared more for that dog than his children, or his wife.

In 1989 I read a report where grief expert Kenneth Doka wrote pet loss (like perinatal death and induced abortion) is “disenfranchised grief”.  This means a griever’s relationship with the deceased, and therefore, the griever’s grief, is not sufficiently recognized by other people. Pets, unlike people, are not publicly mourned, which means that grievers don’t get the social support they need to recover.

I also read pets are good for people, and good for couples.  A 1995 study of couples’ day-to-day interactions found “…couples with dogs had greater well-being, and those with the highest attachment to their dogs — and who confide in them — fared the best. Interestingly, talking to dogs — in addition to one’s spouse — was related to greater life satisfaction, marital satisfaction, and physical and emotional health. Confiding in pets to ‘discuss’ difficult life situations greatly relieved stress.”

A 2002 study measured cardiovascular changes of 120 married couples while they performed two stressful tasks — one was “5 minutes of rapid serial subtraction by steps of three from a four-digit number,” and the other was a 2-minute hand bath in ice water. Participants had lower heart rates and blood pressure when performing these tasks in front of their pet than when doing them in front of their spouse, the study found.

Pets, the authors suggest, offer unconditional support under duress, with no judgments. “While the idea of a pet as social support may appear to some as a peculiar notion, our participants’ responses to stress combined with their descriptions of the meaning of pets in their lives suggest to us that social support can indeed cross species.”

Digging into this research has helped me understand the value of having a dog, and more fully appreciate the bond I had — and apparently still have — with the one I lost.

One question remains.  How long do you wait after one dog dies before doing it all over again?  Or is it better to not do it again.  We can now leave for days and who cares.  We can leave on a whim and not worry about dog care.  There are benefits, both ways I guess.

I often wonder for other, if you get the same kind of dog, is it comforting to have a similar set of dog traits in your life once again, or instead just incredibly sad?  I do not know, but I do know one thing.  I never wanted to become so attached to a dog as the loss, I know all to well, hurts.  Jackson was special.  Very Very special.  He pulled me in and had affection for me.  He was happy to see me each day.  I will miss him, very very much.






RIP my friend, RIP!  You and Annie have a good ole time!

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