I saw Ferris' empty dish last night when I fed Riley, and it unleashed an agonizing wave of sadness so overwhelming, I dropped to the floor in our living room and cried as hard and as long as I ever have in my life.
After she was finished eating, Riley came over to me and sniffed at my face. Through my tears and gasping sobs, I told her it was okay, I just missed Ferris a lot and I was sad.
She rubbed her face against my cheek and trotted into the family room. A moment later, she returned with her soggy tennis ball, which she gently put into my lap. She looked up at me, and then walked into the corner of the family room, where she picked up her rope – her favorite toy, which she brings with her to the front door whenever we come home – and brought it over to me. She set it on the ground next to me, and then laid down and put her head in my lap. I cried for a good long time, but I was comforted by Riley's actions, even if I'm projecting my own feelings onto her. I felt like she could tell I was grieving, so she brought me the things that make her happy, before letting me cry on her until the fur on her neck was soaked with my tears. When I finally stopped, mostly because I was physically and emotionally exhausted, I felt a tiny bit better.
Anne is out of town and Ryan went back to school last week. This is Nolan's first major loss, and I haven't wanted to burden him with my own grief, so other than emails from friends and comments on my blog, I've been essentially alone with my pain the last three days. It's been incredibly difficult, and I'm glad Anne is coming home this afternoon, so I'll have someone to cry with.
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Wil –
Things get easier when you have someone you can talk to, and understands those feelings. Some of us out here do, but we don’t know you like Anne – or your friends. Take some time, go do things with them. It will distract you, and the distractions help you to process it. Eventually, you’ll be able to go whole days without sobbing – though you’ll probably still tear up. I know I do, and I lost Daisy six months ago…
Hang in there. It does get easier…
Aww, losing pets is the hardest thing. I don’t think you’re projecting. Dogs are socially complex and I’m sure Riley was trying to comfort you. That personal attention to your emotions is what makes dogs such good companions. I love my cats to death, but whenever I cry they get all uncomfortable looking and leave the room.
You will all get through this. At least you have family and Riley to comfort you.
Best,
Hannah -iloveyossarian@yahoo-
I am happy you are so open with this – most people think others will look down on them or think differently about them if they grieve for an animal. “its just a dog” sort of speak.
TBH – I think we can be just as attached to a pet as we can a person, and while I think you can move on a bit faster from the pet, it still hurts just the same at first.
Your other puppy soudns like a freakin’ sweety though. You’re right, they can sense what you’re feeling and she’s bringing you things that make her happy to make you happy. It’s adorable.
My partner lost his mom last year, and even though our puppy is still relatively new, whenever he is upset about it, she stops being a pest and becomes the best snuggle partner.
I hope you guys get another dog after a few weeks, they really are the best thing.
How is your son taking it?
I just want to send you a BIG HUG. I know your pain.
I lost my cat George on his 15th birthday. We rushed him to the ER because he was having trouble breathing. He passed away while they tried to drain their lungs and I feel horrible that I was not with him.
I know this might not help you but you were there and I am sure he knows it. I am glad Anne will be home with you tonight and they you will all be together.
My thoughts are with you all of you and Riley.
HUGS
You have to let it out and every time you do it helps. At least Riley was there with you to help you through it. I believe animals can feel with you. They know when to hide when you are mad and when to commiserate with you when you are sad.
When your wife gets home you both can have a few good cries and maybe have a few good laughs soon remembering your “awesome” dog too. It all helps the healing and we have all been there but as stated by David above “we don’t know you like Anne – or your friends” so they can help you the most.
We are with you and your family and will keep you all in our thoughts and hearts.
Oh wow I am so sorry Wil. I remember reading how you first found Ferris… that saddens me deeply. I’ve lost several animals in my life but I doubt any of them were as good as Ferris. Good luck on feeling better…
The toughest thing about adopting a dog is that you’ll outlive them. It’s often helpful to live in the moment, much as your dogs do, when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Luckily, if you need time off to grieve, you don’t have to justify it to your boss.
Just do what you can to take care of yourself and your family.
I’m glad that Anne with be with you soon, it’s such a hard thing to go through alone. Take comfort in Riley, that’s what she is offering.
Sympathy, warm wishes and big hugs to all of you. You are in my thoughts.
Oh, Wil. This just breaks my heart for you. What a good dog Riley is!! She knows you’re upset and wanted to be there for you, and she probably misses her pal, too. Grieve all you want. It takes time. 🙁
PS: I think we need a picture of this Riley!
You have all my sypathy over the loss of Ferris. I lost my 3 girls within a 6 month span over 2 years ago. It does get a bit easier but it takes a while. I hope Riley is there every time you need her.
I was most sad yesterday when I read you had lost your Ferris. Its been 9.5 years since I lost my Ferris, my sheltie puppers. He just got sick one day, and 10 weeks later, I had to put him to rest, as he just got worse and worse. I remember feeling cheated, as I only had him with me for 3 1/2 years…we should have had more time. I still have moments where I miss him dreadfully. For me, he was my everything, as it was just him and I living in our apartment, so it was horrible to have to come home and be alone. I’m glad Anne will be home soon so you will have someone there to get you, and Riley, through this rough time. Hugs to you and your family!!
Wil, dogs (as well as other animals) are sentient beings and I’m a firm believer that Riley is quite aware that something is wrong and feels your sadness. She’s clearly communicating that with you by bringing her toys over to comfort you.
It’s refreshing to read your openness although I’m sure you’d prefer different circumstances. All of us who’ve had a pet thoroughly understand the grief of losing them and you’re never alone even if you feel so right now. Promise!
Wil said, “I cried for a good long time, but I was comforted by Riley’s actions, even if I’m projecting my own feelings onto her.”
Wil, you’re NOT projecting your feelings onto Riley. Are those actions that she normally performs? I don’t think so, as you’ve never mentioned them before. She knows what you’re feeling, and feels the same way you do, I’m sure of it. She misses her friend, and is taking comfort from you the same way you’re taking comfort from her.
-Alicia
You have a good dog. Playtime makes her happy; she figures it will do the same for you.
Wil,
My heart goes out to you. and thank you for grieving with us publicly. Ferris was special, I’ve always enjoyed your posts about her and Riley being a part of your family.
Go grieve with Nolan. It will not burden him. He may want to comfort you, and in doing so, be comforted.
“Wil, you’re NOT projecting your feelings onto Riley.”
I absolutely agree with Alicia. Riley knows, and she’s grieving with you in the best way she knows how. I’m glad you’ll have Anne home. Grief is easier together.
*sincere internet hug*
Riley knows; I don’t think you’re projecting on her at all. What a sweetheart of a dog.
We’re all pulling for y’all and keeping you all in our thoughts.
Be well.
I didn’t realize you didn’t have Anne with you. That’s heartbreaking.
A while back, my cat Cole died of a heart attack while undergoing an operation to free a blocked urinary tract. His death was so sudden, and for days afterward I was wracked with sorrow, as well as guilt. I felt that it was somehow my fault that he died.
I have been moving my things to my girlfriend’s house recently, and the other day I pulled his ashes down from the shelf where he had been resting, along with a photo of him. The old feelings came back, but it was no longer sorrow and guilt–just a sadness and longing that will probably never fully go away. I miss him terribly. I remember all of the good things about him (such as his love of playing fetch with bread twistie ties), and smile.
Losing our pets is just like losing a beloved family member. It is never easy, and you will grieve for some time. It is obvious that Ferris was loved as much as he possibly could have been. You are not projecting — Riley obviously knows that you are sad, and he is doing what he can to comfort you, in the way he knows how — by being there for you to cry on.
I know you know this, but it’s always good to hear: all of us “Rileys” out here feel your pain, and we welcome your tears. It will get better, but for now, it’s good to cry. We’re all very happy to know that you are a decent, caring human being. Not that we didn’t know that already 🙂
This is going to sound funny, but it’s actually serious. My wife and I recently lost both of our beloved cats to cancer, and we found that eating Good and Plenty helped, at least temporarily. Sugar + licorice helps with mood, I guess.
Wil –
I read your blog regularly, follow you on Twitter and have been a fan since TNG. I have never met you and obviously do not know you, or Ferris. But I cannot tell you how sad I feel right now after reading your last three posts. I know what it is like to consider your dog family, and I’ve found that losing dogs is often harder than losing human friends or family. I know things will eventually get better for you, but that doesn’t really help now, so just know that yet another person is thinking of you and your family and wishing you the best. I’ll be sure to give my dog a big hug when I get home later and I’ll be thinking of you and Ferris when I do. Take care.
Oh honey I’m so sorry. And I know exactly how you’re feeling. I don’t think you were projecting with Riley…I think she just knew you were sad and trying her best to help you feel better. One of my kitties died unexpectedly 10 months ago and it still hurts…damn it…now I’m crying…so it will take time, I’m sure you know.
Hopefully you and Anne will find comfort in something…each other, finding a perfect memorial, maybe eventually a new whiskered face.
*giggle* I just thought of Riley’s inner commentary…”I know what will cheer him up…my tennis ball! No? I know!! My rope!!!” 🙂
May you all find peace.
Holding such heavy emotion in without someone to talk to is really, really hard. Hang in there. That’s all I can say. Just hang in there.
One of the things we fans love about you is your willingness to share with us some of your deepest emotions. Over the years, we have shared in your joys of childhood, fears about growing up and about potential failure as a father, anger at various kids that won’t get off your lawn. Thank you for sharing your pain and sorrow with us as well. I sincerely hope that it will help to bring you some comfort to allow us to share your suffering with you.
Thanks for sharing that, Wil. I definitely like Riley, and wish she could travel with you to some events so I might get to meet her someday.
I’m so sorry. Hugs to you. And please give Riley a big hug for me, too.
You’re not projecting human traits onto Riley – there is scientific evidence that shows that animals grieve and can exhibit a tremendous ability to comfort and console. Riley seems to have those natural instincts and would be a great therapy dog if you wanted to spend some time training her. She is trying her best to comfort you. You are doing well to explain to her why you are sad – best to tell her you know she’s sad, too. You’re all in it together.
I was away from home when I lost Bandit, the cat I’d grown up with. He was 17 and in incredible shape for such an old cat (except for the whole kidney failure thing that was killing him). My parents had to put him down, and when they called me, I was–of all places–at a bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere, away on a wine weekend with some friends. There was a dog at the b&b, a middle-aged golden. After my parents called to tell me about Bandit, the dog started following me around and being, well, cat-like. Nuzzly. Sweet. She knew that I needed comfort, even if she didn’t know exactly why. But I like to think that she _did_ know.
Animals…they know. That’s why we miss them so much when they go away: who else will ever understand us like that? I have a cat in my life again. Sometimes I notice how Spoon is like Bandit, and how they differ. Sometimes that makes me sad, but more often than not it makes me notice that my life, and now Spoon’s life, are richer for my knowing and loving Bandit–just as your life and the lives of your current and future pets are richer for your loving Ferris.
Many hugs!
When my husband and I moved 3 years ago, our apartment wasn’t pet friendly and our wonderful gray cat went to live with his parents. Yesterday I found out that she has been missing now for over a week. She’s very old and has diabetes so the chances that she’s survived on her own are very slim. I sat in my office and cried and cried, even though she hadn’t lived with me in years. The animals in our life our a huge part of who we are – and losing them feels like losing that part of ourselves. I’m sorry that you don’t have someone to share this painful time with – I hope Anne returns soon so you are not alone.
Wil, the only time I have ever seen my father cry is when his beloved cat Big Guy passed away from old age. My father had received this cat as a wedding gift. That cat meant a lot to him and Big Guy’s remains now reside at my father’s favorite fishing spot. It was tough for the whole family and while Big Guy passed away several years ago, my father makes a point to visit the grave site every year. It’s going to be tough and the pain may not ever go away, but I think it’s important to keep in mind that you saved him. You saved Ferris from dying alone and scared at that bus stop and gave him an incredible life.
I don’t think he could have had a better friend.
Oh Gosh; didn’t realize you didn’t have the whole crew home. Ouch, that hurts doubly; having to be the only adult around while going through this.
I don’t think you’re projecting on Riley. I think animals, particularly those strongly bonded to their humans, do have rudimentary emotional empathy. Even as a kitten, our cat Pangur (at a time in her life when she was an energetic tornado) would sense when my wife had a migraine and would curl up behind her knees in bed and purr like a turbine.
The cats did that for me too, one time when I was sick and my wife was out of town. Curled up on the bed with me while I slept.
We’ll all pulling for you. You’ll feel better evetually, but maybe never quite the same, and that’s Ok. Take care, dude.
Wil,
As Flaubert said, human speech is a cracked kettle on which we tap out rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will move the stars to pity. I want to say something that will give you comfort, make you feel better, and ease the burden just a little bit, but the best I can tap out is this: I’m truly sorry for your loss.
But you’re never alone. I know we’re a bunch of faceless names with some text attached, and it’s not at all the same as having someone there to give you a hug and a shoulder to cry on, but I think a lot of us truly care about you. You’ve touched our lives with your books, your blog, your acting… hell, your stories about Ferris! We know how much Ferris meant to you, and even if we don’t grok exactly how much it hurts, we know it’s a hell of a lot.
Now go let Nolan give you a hug.
— Jason
The hardest part of losing my cat Mira was dealing with Sputnik’s grief. He couldn’t find her anywhere, and looked and looked and called and called for her.
Probably the most painful moment was when I was reviewing a video I’d made of them. This was maybe a year after Mira died. In the video my voice was audible, calling her name and talking to her like I used to do.
Sputnik heard the recorded voice and his ears perked up, and he looked all around for her, waiting for her to come walking into the room.
That memory — of his sweet, forlorn hope — still makes me cry.
It will get less painful, less acute and immediate, but it will never completely stop hurting. That’s how you know it’s love.
I’m sorry that your pet is no longer with you, Wil. I know how hard it is to part with one, having been a pet lover all of my life.
For the past 15 years, my gray-and-white tabby cat, Thumper, has been my best buddy. He tucks me in every night and wakes me up every morning, then generally ignores me. In the evenings, he cuddles up on an old afghan my mother made years ago under a big teddy bear that I placed on the love seat in our living room. We watch TV together.
Your blog reminds me that you are a good guy, Wil, and not the creep you played on “Criminal Minds” not long ago. I know, I know — you were only acting! But you sure scared the crap out of me!
George Spink
Los Angeles
Oh, Wil. I’m so sorry. I usually just lurk around here, but this breaks my heart. I understand this pain all too well, and am offering lots of love.
It will definitely get… easier when Anne comes home. How you’re managing by yourself is beyond me. Hang in there.
Karen
(My favourite poem for grief, sadness and tough times: http://tinyurl.com/nuw7lq)
Once she comes in, you’ll have an easier time dealing with your grief. That’s in a way good that this is your son’s first loss. I still remember that time I came out of practice one Saturday six years ago to find my mom waiting by the car. She told me my cousin had died unexpectedly. That was such a punch to the gut. Or that one road race where I saw a young kid my age die 10 feet in front of me. Young people should not die before their parents- this fact made both situations that much harder. But if you’ve got family to help you share the grief, it does make it seem more bearable.
Dude, I read but don’t think I’ve ever commented. I’ve been wanting to say something, but it’s hard — I lost my cat of a decade a couple of months ago (farewell post is here: http://www.danbailey.net/689/saying-goodbye-to-my-best-friend ) and reading this is dredging up the emotions again.
What’s gotten me through the last two months is knowing that I gave my friend the best home she could possibly have, that I loved her without question, and that both our lives were richer for having known each other. The same, without question can be said of you and Ferris.
You doubtless had a rich, wonderful and fun eight years together. If you’re anything like me, you may go through the phase of guilt or wonder why you couldn’t have realized something was wrong earlier, but ultimately, you’ll get to the point where you realize that you did the most important thing in the world — you took in a stray animal and made it part of your family.
My heart goes out to you and your family.
Wil, each of your posts about Ferris’ death has made me cry. I don’t even know you, but you let me and all your other readers into your heart so deeply we can all feel your pain. And it hurts. I hope in this way we can share the tears with you as well and that our comments give you some comfort.
Hang in there and talk to us whenever you need to. We’ll be here.
I feel lame and inadequate, but I AM so sorry for your loss. I hate that there’s nothing any of us can say or do to help because losing a family member like Ferris is like an open sucking gut wound, with what little triage there is in-the-moment to make it heal, just to maybe slightly stem the bleeding. All I can offer is that, eventually, you’ll come to a place where you’ll reflect that Ferris — and Riley — lived well, love you and were/are loved (projection of human emotions or not, love is love), and it will help. Until then, know that we wish you and your family peace.
Riley, what a sweet girl! I cried for Ferris last night, and my puppy took time out from being crazy and hyper to come over and let me hug her. So I truly believe that Riley knows something’s going on is doing whatever she can to make you feel better.
Hugs to all of you.
I’ve had to bury pets before, and even a best friend. The best two pieces of advice I can give you are these:
NEVER hold back emotions related to them, and keep vigil for them the day before, the day of, and the day after every year.
May the Goddess watch over you and yours, good sir.
I don’t think you’re projecting, Wil. Riley knows something’s wrong. His buddy Ferris has been gone for several days and one of his humans is very, very sad. I’ve no doubt that he’s connected the two events. I also know that you’re right – he brought you the things that bring him happiness, hoping it might help. Even if animals don’t possess the complicated thought processes that humans have, they know emotions.
I agree with zenfishing. Go to Nolan. Being there for your grief may also help him with his. You need each other now.
I’m glad for you that Anne will be back today.
*hugs*
I follow you on Twitter and although I don’t normally respond to blogs, I felt in my heart what you are going through. I have lost a number of pets over the years, some of which have been my children rather than pets. I can remember so clearly what happened to each of them, having to take them one last time to the vets and not bringing them home. It does not matter what it is a person or pet that we lost, they are part of us and when they die, a part of us dies too. I know the pain is hard and it feels like it will never ease. In time the tears will stop and you will be able to smile again, but some of the pain never goes away. I take comfort in knowing I will see my pets again when it is my time, and that their energies surround me always. I can imagine that you gave Ferris lots of love and care, and that kind of unconditional love is a wonderful thing. I know words may not be much help at the moment, so I just wanted to wish you peace and blessings.
Wil, first of all, I’m very sorry for your loss. I lost my two dogs (geez, 13 years ago now) exactly two weeks apart, and it tore me up. I had just gotten a kitten, and she really helped me through the pain. (I’m not suggesting you get a replacement pet, but I do know that pets can sense when things are wrong, and they do try to comfort their moms and dads. I’d only had Dot a few weeks when Charlie and Nilla died, and yet she still knew when I was feeling the loss of my pals and she did her best to cheer me up.)
Talking to Nolan won’t be a burden for him. He’ll learn that grief is perfectly acceptable, natural, and nothing to be ashamed of. You’ll feel better, too. Knowing someone feels EXACTLY the same way you do is sometimes the catharsis one needs. Group therapy, except this time it’s with someone you know and love, who knew and loved the one you lost. If Nolan’s as awesome you make us all think he is, he’ll get it.
Losing a pet is one of the most painful things to happen to someone. We love our pets so much, and so effortlessly, that it can be devastating when they die.
I know exactly how you feel. I’m sorry, Wil.
I am so, so sad with you. Losing a family member is just so hard, and so sad. It just freaking sucks, and there’s no way around it.
I can’t encourage you enough to share some of that with Nolan. Seeing how you feel and how you deal with this loss might help him do the same thing. I can appreciate the urge to hide your deepest woe– like your upsetness is gonna be another weight on him on top of his own sadness. But that’s not usually how it works. Think of times when people you love have been upset, and have needed you. Getting to be there for and with someone else is pretty incredible. So weep openly and largely and let him know you need him as much as he needs you!
like humans, dogs are pack animals. and part of being a pack animal is taking care of other members of the pack.
GOOD RILEY.
i’m sorry your’ve been mostly alone with your grief.
Wil, hon, you’re not projecting. It’s been proven that dogs grieve when a member of their “pack” dies. And like the others have said, she was just trying to comfort you in her own way.
And as a proud doggie mom and sister to 3 others over the years, I know how hard it is to loose on these precious friends and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. So you grieve and cry and anything else you need to do. We’ll be here for you whenever you feel like talking.
Hi Wil.
I’m so sorry you guys are going through this. I hope you start to feel better soon.
Your descriptions of Ferris are beautiful. I’m put in mind of a sweet little Peter O’Toole film I saw recently called ‘Dean Spanley’, in which it was posited that at any one time, there are only seven truly great dogs in the world. It sounds like Ferris was one of them.
Sending you healing thoughts from across the Atlantic.
Rx
Wil, we lost our 8 year old Bichon, Max this past February. One minute he was out in the backyard barking at a cat up in a tree, the next, he was down. He gave one last sigh in my arms in the house, which I like to think was his way of telling me it was okay, and then he was gone. The vets think it was a blood clot. The worst part of having a dog is that more often than not, we are doomed to outlive them. I am still trying to come to grips with that. The best thing I can tell you is that time will help fill the hole in your heart, and make the grief less raw. It will never completely go away, and it shouldn’t. Your dog is a huge part of your life, and there is a void left behind when they are gone. One of the things I agonized over, especially at the beginning, was whether I’d ever see him again. I’ve read books (and some poems) that provide comfort on the subject, but I do still have a sad moment from time to time. But in the end, I believe Max and Ferris left this world without any regrets. They did exactly what they were supposed to do while they were here. It doesn’t really make it any easier for those they leave behind, but in time, it will get better. We’re finally in a place where we are ready to think about getting another one. I’m sure that will help too. My sincere condolences to you and your family. Hang in there. You are not alone.