Thirteen years is a long time to spend with any living thing, and losing a companion that loved unconditionally and as enthusiastically as my little white dog did is tearing holes in my heart.
I’m trying so hard to get on with my life, but whenever I think I’m making some progress, and moving through the grief process, I see Riley out of the corner of my eye, and realize her spot on the couch is empty. Last night, when I walked into my dark bedroom to go to sleep, I automatically walked around the spot where she liked to sleep on the floor, and for less than a second, I forgot that she’ll never sleep there again. Today, I drove up our street and nearly broke down sobbing when I looked at the lawn she used to stop and smell at whenever we walked her.
Her dish is in the corner of the dining room, where she left it. Neither one of us as been able to pick it up. Her pills and her food are still in the pantry. We’re going to donate them to the Humane Society, and even though I know that’s a good thing to do, I still feel like I’m going to cry when I think about the finality of taking them out of the pantry for the last time.
Seamus has been going into my bedroom, lying down in Riley’s bed that is extra smooshy to take the pressure off of her arthritic hips, and almost crying. He fusses in a way I’ve never noticed as long as we’ve had him, and Anne thinks he’s grieving, too. He and Riley weren’t very close the last couple of years, because Marlowe was just more fun to play with, but she was part of his pack.
Anne remembered Riley over at her blog:
Riley became known as the āIāM A DOG!ā face with all the pictures we put of her on the internet over the years. The outpouring of love and support from real friends and internet friends has been so overwhelmingly kind. From planting flowers in her honor, to making donations to local shelters in her memory, to even registering a star in her name just so I can look up and think of her every night, is so unexpectedly wonderful. I love that this sweet, oddball of a dog has so many people who cared about her and will miss her goofy face as much as we do.
Goodbye, little girl. We love you.
I’ve gotten tens of thousands of kind thoughts from people who never knew Riley, but seem to have formed their own bond with her in that strange way that’s only possible because of the world we live in right now. That brings me a lot of comfort, and I want you all to know that I deeply appreciate your kindness and your thoughts.
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Everyone grieves differently. You’ll come to a place of peace in time. And yet, even then, every now and again her little tail will wag in your heart and you’ll feel her absence again. I know how much this hurts, and I know no platitudes can actually help.
Sending you and Anne much comfort during this sad time. You gave her the best life a dog could ever have had.
My wife and I are going through this with our Vinny. Our best to you and your family. Including Riley.
We had a cat who, if we didn’t go the extra mile to keep him alive through twice daily stabs with insulin and pills, might just have left this world sooner. Your mention of pills reminded me of this and know that IMADOG is, no doubt greatful for all those extra human and dog years you’ve tagged onto her life. Hugs and scruffles….
So many people can identify with your loss. It’s one of the many good things about social media that people come together in this way. You guys have shared Riley with us, so in turn we share your sorrow now she’s gone to the Rainbow Bridge (the place where many dog people believe dogs wait for their owners).
I had a dog for 11 years; she left us almost 20 years ago. Eventually the memories make you smile instead of cry, but it takes a while. Hugs to you and yours.
It takes time, to get over a loss. For sure!
But the world turns and so should you!
If you bring in the things she doesn’t need anymore to Humane Society, look for another compagnion for Marlow, for she needs a new friend and familymember, too.
Still, my heart is with your loss!!!
Wil, I am sorry for your loss. I have a terminally ill cat who has been in my life for 16 1/2 years so I know exactly how you feel. I hope you feel a little better soon. The pain never goes away but hopefully, it will be replaced by only good thoughts.
I had a yellow lab that I grew up with – after 14 years as a member of our family we had to have him put down thanks to arthritis, Cancer, and blindness. There was a Sunday morning not long after when I was eating breakfast and I had the crust from my toast which I always put in his dish – I stood up from the table, through the crust to the spot where his dish always was and when I realized what I’d done I fell to the floor and sobbed. Thatndog was my best fried for so many years and I hadn’t properly grieved him until that moment.
It is so hard losing a member of the famy like that…I am so sorry for your’s and Anne’s loss. I’ll miss seeing that sweet little face gracing my favorite social media outlets…
I grieve with thee.
Wil, I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m a veterinarian and deal with this everyday but it is never easy for me: many of my patients have been coming to see me since they were puppies and it is hard to be there at the end. I lost my Cocker three weeks ago from cancer and still find myself looking for him first thing in the morning.
I’m very sorry for your loss. Riley certainly looks like a sweet and happy dog.
I understand everything you wrote. We lost our dog Morgan over 10 years ago, and I still miss her. It’s an old pain, and thus duller than it was, but it still hurts. We have 3 dogs and a cat at this point in our lives, and they are awesome. But… Morgan was my first dog, and she was the best dog in the whole world (to me).
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I truly do understand what you are going through. Dogs are absolutely the only unconditional love we can find in this world, and they deserve to be grieved over and missed when they pass. They give us so much, it’s only right that we offer them the tribute of our tears.
Internet hugs to you and your family.
She was your fur kid and you are good and caring people and it makes you sad that she isn’t there anymore. One day it won’t make you so sad. Our 13yo spaniel died 4 years ago. It was heartbreaking when she left, especially for our kids who’d been with her since they were teeny. Now we just remember all her amusing habits – her horrendously loud snoring, her front paws leaving the ground when she barked, her constant hoovering of the floors etc.
Soon, thinking of Riley will make you smile, too.
As I tweeted to Anne on Twitter, the way you talk for your pets there makes it feel like they are part of our family, too. My girlfriend has saved pictures you have posted of all of them and they are all part of her rotating wallpaper on her desktop at work along with our dogs and cat (all rescues). So, yeah, we grieve for Riley because she was one of our Internet pets…not to mention so many of us know personally what it’s like to lose a long-time friend. It’s been many years and I still see my dogs Althea and Janis out of the corner of my eye just as you are seeing Riley now. It doesn’t hurt so much after time but it never goes away…nor should it as its how we remember them and then want to do it all over again so yet another dog or cat has a great forever home. Just remember, no matter whatever other heights you might hit in your life, aside from your close human family, nothing will top giving Riley the home and life she deserved. That’s why we like you, Wil Wheaton. We come because you’re famous but we stay because you honestly give of yourself…and that’s why you’re sad because you truly loved that dog. We are all sad with you. Hug your wife and hug your pets and keep doing it. You will feel better as time goes on.
Yes, you said this better than I could: they are our Internet pets. I still miss Ferris, and now Riley, and yet, their stories have become part of my life’s background. You, Wil and all of us give love to pets, but it can hurt too. The love is worth it.
Grief is such a huge, terrible, and (unfortunately) necessary jerk-beast. I’m sending all of you all of my love and hugs and good vibes.
Wil, I’m so sorry. I won’t say I know how you and Anne feel – everyone’s grief is different – but I am going through the same thing myself right now. I lost my 13-year-old furry child on Monday. I know the sensation of dodging the places he liked to snooze in, how it feels to see that empty doggie bed, the pain of knowing I’ll never get another of his sloppy kissies. And I know that I’ll never get over him. I’ll just get used to being gone.
I’ll get better at carrying the burden – and so will you and Anne. Best regards to you both, and my sincere condolences.
Its great to find nice members of humanity. 13 years is a long time for a dog to own us. The loss of their unconditional love is a terrible thing. The healing will come. We are here to support you in our own way!
It’s been about three and a half years since I had to say goodbye to my 21 year old cat. I had adopted him as a kitten when I was still a teenager, and he saw me through college, endless moves, marriage, my child’s birth, divorce, and so much more. Not having him here just hurts, and I understand your pain and your grief. Much love to you and your family as you seek peace.
So many of us understand your grief, and unfirtunately it will likely be with you for a while. Several years ago, I learned that my 10 year old cat had terminal cancer, and I only had one more week with him. That week was torture – I held him all night and cried, then went to work and cried, only to come home and cry some more. After he was gone, it was almost unbearable to be in the house without him.
Although I fortunately moved shortly afterwards, I still miss him heaps. Hang in there and cry it out when you can.
A few years ago, I had to make a similar decision with my sweet little old lady dog. She was sixteen years old, and had been there through every major event in my life. She tried to get in my suitcase when I moved to Europe for four months. She protected my daughter when she was a baby. She cuddled me when I lost both of my parents to cancer. She was simply the best friend I’d ever had. When she passed on, I was messed up for months. I still miss her every single day.
You guys (including sweet Seamus) are in my thoughts. Much love from Texas.
Every time I saw the IMADOG pictures I always thought “She must be a puppy, her eyes are so full of life.” Just goes to show how well loved she was if she was that bright eyed, I couldn’t tell she was older. You did good giving her a good home. That karma will come back. š
Hi Wil. You don’t know me. Probably never will, and that’s cool because you probably know way more people than you need to and there’s a limit to what I think makes me, you know worth being knowable. But I had to reply here, because I know what you feel, and I’m hoping sharing some of that grief can make things better for you, and for me. I’ve had pets for so very long, and the end of life thing… well, it’s not my first rodeo. I had one baby (oriental shorthair and siamese cats, btw) go too soon because she’d developed cancer and we didn’t know it until too late. The second died at a ripe old man age, even though he’d had chronic renal failure the last three years of his life (I gave him fluids, he stayed a happy sassy asshole right up to the end. When he wasn’t able to be happy anymore, I let him go with dignity). Both of those times tore my heart to pieces, but nothing… nothing prepared me for what happened last month. I lost my third baby. He was only nine years old. He went to the vet, and never came home. It was only supposed to be a tooth extraction, but he arrested coming out of the anesthesia. There was no fault from my vet, it turns out the boy had an extremely rare form of pneumonia. Losing him tore my world apart. I was supposed to go pick him up that afternoon… but I had to wait a week to go pick up his urn. Some people don’t know what it’s like to feel this way about an animal, but I felt like… feel like the world could just stop, and I wouldn’t care. My little fur babies have always been so much more than just pets… they’ve been my lifeline as I’ve dealt with chronic clinical depression and Very Bad Thoughts ™.
Anway… the point I’m trying to make is that, despite the fact I don’t know you, my heart is breaking for you. I am so very sorry, in a way that only someone who loves animals can understand. It’s a very real grief, and the fact that they have four legs and fur does not make that grief hurt any less than if they were people. Time, they say, heals all wounds… so, I guess we just have to roll with it, hoping every day the pain is a little less and less. Until you reach that point, know that you’ve got a lot of people out here that understand, and are willing to share that grief with you. You and your family are in my thoughts, for whatever that may be worth.
You talk about Riley and you cry about him; that’s one of the ways i think helps. my heart cries out to u ..
A few years ago I had a doggie duo that grew up together, just six months apart. They were the best of friends. My Cody and my Phoebe. Their bond was amazing. When Phoebe died, unexpectedly, it broke my heart. But I had to push that aside because the grief that Cody experienced was so deep I didn’t know if he’d go on. I wish that were hyperbole. Dogs absolutely grieve and I’m sure Seamus is feeling the loss as well. I just took Cody on extra walks and took him to the Dairy Queen for a pup cups (something I never do but hard times call for special measures) and over time he adjusted to life without his friend.
You guys give each other and all the fuzzies in your life hugs and love and over time it will get easier for each of you, on your own timeline.
Now I’m gonna go hug my new doggie duo and tell them to stay young longer than I know is possible.
Ok….. just had a good cry after reading your post. This triggers those familiar feelings to any of us who have experienced the loss of our four-legged friends, and we grieve with you. You just broke off a little piece of my heart and named it Riley. Comforting hugs…..
“The Gunner’s Dream” is always the first song that pops into my mind when I hear sad news of a loved one passing. I was very sorry to hear of your loss, Wil. It’s good that you have two dogs to help you grieve. I am going to miss photos of I’M A DOG on your Twitter feed. I set the needle down on the record and dedicate this one to Riley:
Floating down, through the clouds….
Wil – I just wanted to say how sorry I am about Riley. I’ve been reading your blog since 2002 and I feel like I’ve gotten to know your pets. I will miss her. I know how hard it is to lose a pet.
I’m sorry about Riley. Thirteen years is a long time. She’s seen a lot of changes.
Wil, my dear, it’s only been a couple days since her death. Of COURSE you’re still having difficulty with her absence. I’d worry about you if you WEREN’T upset.
Those habits of walking around her usual resting spot or expecting to see her in her usual spots were gained over many years. They aren’t going to vanish for weeks or even months.
I remember clearly when I lost my beloved cat Tommy nearly 10 years ago now. I couldn’t understand why the sun came up the next morning – not when my world had ended the evening before when he had died. I kept seeing him in his resting places and catching myself nearly calling for him when I’d come home. And then the realization that he was gone would set in a few seconds later, and the grief would crash down upon me all over again.
When you are ready, you’ll be able to donate Riley’s things. Please don’t force yourself to do it before you’re truly ready. There’s no rush, and the grief process moves at a different pace for all of us. You’ll know when it’s time.
PLEASE be gentle with yourself as you process your feelings. Don’t think, “I should be over this” or “I shouldn’t be crying right now” or “I shouldn’t be feeling this way.” Allow the emotions to wash over you like a soft wave. Tears are very cleansing. Let them fall when they come.
Sending you virtual hugs and light as you go through this dark time. I hope it helps to know that so many of us care and are grieving Riley’s loss right along with you.
Seconding the “be gentle with yourself” paragraph.
Give yourselves the permission to grieve fully. Riley was your companion and furkid, and it will take a while for the shape of her in your lives to transition into happy memories. It’s been several months since I lost my most recent dog, and the pain has mostly faded, leaving the good stuff behind. Your posts have made me remember how much it can hurt, but I still can smile fondly when I remember my Corva dog. Riley was well and truly loved, as are all your dogs. Give Seamus and Marlowe some extra treats and pets for a while, and it will help all of you to grieve. I wish all of you love and light and healing.
The hole in your heart will always be there. Just a little smaller and less noticeble as time passes. Hope these sad days pass quickly and the good memories remain strong.
Lost the older dog we adopted from PAWS last month, a year after we brought him home. Deepest empathies for your loss.
I lost my beloved border collie Curzon to cancer almost two years ago (May 6, 2013), and it’s only been very recently that I’ve not wanted to hide and cry at the thought of him. My husband and I associate a song with him, and last week it came on the radio and that’s the first time I haven’t bawled my eyes out while it played. That’s not to say I haven’t remembered him with joy and love all this time, but that the pain was just overwhelming for a good long while. It’s still hard – I’m a little sniffly typing this short comment now – but it will eventually get better.
And everyone grieves differently, based on their own self, their relation with the lost one, and their own experiences. My husband’s not had such a hard time since his nature is different and he’s lost beloved pets before, but that doesn’t make our experiences any less valid to the other, just different.
… My heart responds your loss… The hole will remain but the pain will fade so it’s not a gut wrenching shock each time you think of that IMADOG face.
Thank you so much for sharing this with everyone. I just lost my cat and with not being as popular as you, I don’t have many people in my life who understand my grief. When you said you walked around the spot where she used to lay, that was the part that really got to me. I wish the rest of my brain could send a message to the autopilot part, that it needs to delete those kind of things. I know for me that’s the worst, when it seems like I’m forgetting. Your Riley will be remembered now by so many. I hope that gives you the same comfort you have given me.
Our dog used to sleep by my side of the bed and I had to dodge him in the dark every morning when the alarm went off. After he died I bet it was a good month before I was able to stop “dodging” him when I got up in the morning. It’s damn tough. Peace to you and your family.
Those of us who have followed your and Anne’s affection and trials with Ripley who’s essence was so simply distilled as “I’M A DOG!” perhaps see a little of her in not only our furbabies but in our loved ones in general. Although we cannot feel your pain we do empathize and sincerely offer our sympathy. The world would be a better place if there were a little more “I’m a dog!” in all of us. Much love to you, Anne and your family during this difficult time.
Wil, I’m so sorry for you and your family’s loss. It hurts so much to lose our fur babies. We cry with you because we feel like we got to know Riley through your blog and twitter… and also because anyone who has lost a dog knows how terribly it hurts. I know it’s difficult, but in time it will get better.
Of course your heart is broken. All decent people are sad when something they love has died. Doesn’t matter if it’s a dog or a person. You grieve for your precious Riley because she was a living thing that lived for you. Her passing is a terrible loss. I am so sorry. Peace to you and your family. Please give Seamus and Marlowe a scratch on the head from me….a total stranger who is sad that their pack mate has died.
It will take time and some days will be worse than others, but there will come a day that you’ll remember something she used to do and smile and know that it’s going to be all right.
Wishing you well. The loss of a beloved animal companion is terrible.
My Jenny is 9. I had to go out of town (don’t worry, no sad endings here) for a week, so I decided to have her teeth cleaned while she was at the vet. As I was checking her in, the nurse told me about the blood test required before cleaning. She said it was normally procedure “for dogs her age.” I felt insulted. Was she calling my dog old?? But I guess the really reason I was taken aback, was because she instantly shattered the illusion I had of Jenny living forever. My sisters & I had ‘family’ dogs when we grew up. But Jenny is my first dog as an adult. My sister got her for me one Christmas. She paid the fees & took me to the shelter, & choose Jenny. At the time I had was just toying with the idea of getting a dog, & was still unsure. Looking at all of them, I really had no idea what I was looking for. I’m a shy guy. I kind hang out at the back of the crowd. So I choose the one dog that was hiding in the back of the pack like I’d be doing. Best decision I’ve ever made! Jenny’s the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet. She’s always calm & mindful. I love how she can sit outside on cool day, when the wind blows, she’ll close her eye’s & grin while she’s sniffing the air. She is the only dog I’ve ever heard chuckle. And it is a undeniable chuckle. She get’s her own room. Hugs & kiss’s when I get her up in the morning, before I go to work, when I get back, & before she goes to bed. When I stay up late, goes to her room with out being told. If I don’t follow her soon after, she comes out & annoys me until I do. She’s really all I’ve got. The idea of her no longer being there when I wake up in the morning, or of her departing sometime while I’m away, haunts me since that nurse reminded me that she’s getting older. Jenny’s in good health. I hope that we have many more years left. But I know I’ll have to face the fact that, one day, she not going to be there. I can imagine the pain your feel. I’m sorry for your lose.
I think you will always see that image out of the corner of your eye and feel the presence of the beloved. Let it comfort you that the spirit will always remain close. Star
I’m so sorry for your loss. Since our dog died last spring at 15, when it hurts the most, I listen to Dwight Yoakam’s “It’s never alright” and it helps because it acknowledges the hurt:
Its never alright.
It comes and it goes.
Oh its always around,
Even when it don’t show.
They say it gets better.
Well I guess that it might.
But even when its better,
Its never alright.
Sending good vibes your way! Losing a beloved dog is tough, but you have all those great memories, and you gave her a wonderful life full of love and comfort. And no matter how it ended, she knew that.
I picked my dog Tiger up from a shelter a year ago and I already can’t think of life without him. I haven’t been through what you are going through yet but reading your pain makes me want to rush home from work and hug Tiger super tight as he tries to headbutt me and bite my ears and jump on my back (he weighs 50lb so pats are a full contact sport). My heart breaks for you and your family. Every time I see you share your grief I feel compelled to write something as I feel a lump in my throat and my eyes start to sting. I want to fly across the world and hug you and Anne while you call the police because some strange woman is molesting you, but I’ll have to settle for words of condolences and converting kilograms to pounds for you so you wouldn’t get confused. Much love to you and yours. xxx
A lovely poem that I think you will appreciate from pablo neruda “A dog has died” http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/29680
Hugs.
Ow my leaking face! I have been so sad this week. Maybe Riley and Cubby are out there somewhere sniffing butts and laughing.