Absence of Feeling

We had our chocolate lab, Sadie, put down today. She had been losing weight for some time–her appetite and energy seemed to be dimming to the point that she was having difficulty getting up and using her legs. It seemed that the inevitable was just around the corner and when she finally lost her ability to control her bowel movement, we knew that there were no other options.

Jud announced his intent last night. It was disheartening to see my Annika heartbroken over the whole thing. She was so attached to that dog that she would spend her money on treats and toys for the ole' girl. On the other hand, I really couldn't summon any real deep emotion. I was sad, of course, but it wasn't that gut-wrenching loss that I have seen and heard about.

Today, I saw our family pet for the last time. She was so weak that I had to assume she was in pain even though she didn't show it. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see but pragmatic resignation in her eyes was not one of them. People would have been more expressive exhibiting clearly features of pain, sadness. fear or even joy.

With Sadie, I felt no great sense of tragedy. She looked at me as I looked at her, in that final moment when I left the house this afternoon, and I simply said goodbye–giving her one last pat on her head before standing up and walking away. With my back to her, I don't really know what she had done but I don't doubt that she likely gave me a cursory glance before she turned her head to rest it on her paws once again.

There was no barking. No mewling. A person would have done so much more in the throes of their death hoping for one more chance to take the stage. Sadie, as she had been for so long, the easy-going dog who rarely barked or made a fuss, left our home for the vet's office with the quiet dignity and aplomb of one who knew her time had come.

And I was not there to see it because I was on my way home from errands and a workout at the club as if it were another day except that I knew it was to be Sadie's last day with us. But I think of her now, sleeping peacefully, protected from the hard winter soil around her wrapped in one of Anni's fleece blankets that they often share.

I don't mourn you the way others do for their pets but you are still a part of our family. You have been faithful and generous even when we sometimes have not. You have given us the best of what you could offer. You shared your love and affection. I shall miss you, my Sadie-girl.