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 “I’M A DOG!” 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.
Although I cried as I share your grief in the minor way someone can, who never met Riley, I share your grief in anticipation, for lack of a better word. My Cheyenne, who has shared my life for 15 years is dying of cancer. I hope when she is gone that I can think of some good that I can do to honor that memory, as you are.
My Cleo died five years ago, and I still get teary eyed now and then. You’ll always miss Riley, but you’ll also remember the good times, and they’ll make you smile… then cry. But the deep sadness will lessen over time.
We know from the beginning that our pets will only be with us for a while, but we let them take a part of our heart, anyway. Even in our grief, we know we would do it all over again in a heartbeat… and eventually, we do. But each fur kid keeps his/her special place in our heart. Riley will always be safely tucked away in a corner yours.
Dear Wil and Anne- my heart aches for your loss. Our Fur-kids are family and we know they won’t be with us forever, but oh how we hope they will. Cry, remember, look at all the pictures you want, laugh and cry some more. Riley will always be there and with you. All my best and prayers for you and your family.
Oh, the space where they were and now are not. A year ago January I lost my Sapphire-cat and coming home to the empty apartment was ghastly. I was at the shelter within a week because a home without a furry friend is just not a home for me. You always miss them, but I met a new friend that day who helped ease the pain so much over time, one who needed a home (and an obedient trained human slave) as much as I needed a feline friend.
I’m sorry Seamus is so unhappy. Poor guy. Give him some pats for me, will you? Because I so would if I were there.
It doesn’t take much for them to worm their way into our hearts. We adopted a kitten – Belenos, meaning “bright, brilliant” – and he was with us for all of eight months before chronic lung problems took him away from us at 14 months old. My brilliant boy shone very brightly for a very short time, and I still miss him dearly two years later. (I still carry his favorite toy in my bag every day.)
Riley was family. Her loss HURTS, and there’s no reason it shouldn’t. Let yourself and your family grieve, in your ways and your time. We’ve got your back. <3
Dear Wil,
It’s only been a couple of days since Riley has gone. It takes a long time to grieve. It’s ok. It’s ok to wait to move Riley’s stuff, or give away the food and meds. Just wait. Your other dog is grieving too. Oh, hugs and prayers for all of you. This is so hard. God bless you all.
Wil, it’s okay to break down and cry. Riley is a member of your family and will never stop being a member even if she’s not physically here. Take solace knowing you and your family gave her the best years of her life. She passed knowing love and care. I’m not going to lie and say it’ll get easier because sometimes it doesn’t. You lost your fur baby so grieve, cry, talk about how much you miss her but know you and your family are not alone. We all grieve with you.
My dog visited in my dreams after he died. It was real. I could feel his warmth, his weight, his smell. The visions of him in my dreams slowly became distant as my grief processed. The last one, he was off in the distance and I called to him. He looked at me and walked away. It took me a year to get another buddy but I’m glad I did. Daisy has literally saved my life. She’s 10 now, diabetic and blind, and cranky as hell. But I love her so.
So sorry for your loss. Loved Riley’s IMADOG face. Lost a senior (13 year old) pup to arthritis-my vet was awesome when I went to donate meds-they pulled me out of the waiting room so did not have to see other dogs. Loss sucks. Within a few hours of my loss realized I needed another dog-y’all are already a step ahead with Marlowe. Hope both she and Seamus adjust quickly and the kids are ok. Hope the virtual outpour of compassion helps you and Anne as well.
I don’t want to say that I know how you feel, because every loss is different, but I’ve had some “last time” and “never again” moments myself lately, and it’s hard. My heart is with you, and Anne, and Marlowe, and Seamus.
After I put down the first dog I had as an adult, it took weeks before I stopped expecting him to be in his usual places. I would walk up the stairs and be shocked not to find him curled up in our home office with my husband, or I would be talking about pets with a coworker and find myself speaking of him in the present tense. Hardest was first thing in the morning when I would reach out to pet him before I even opened my eyes, and find that what I thought was Max was really just a lump of blanket. It took time, and it is still sometimes painful almost four years later, but eventually the smiles started to outnumber the tears when I thought about him. I know it will be the same for you, in time. But for now, the best advice I have is to let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling in any given moment without beating yourself up about it, and be gentle with yourselves and each other.
Somewhere, old heroes shuffle safely down the street… and a white dog with a derpy face is running right alongside.
Look up spirit essences co made by Jackson Galaxy (my cat from hell) they have one for grieving animals, I hear it works really well. And be gentle to yourselves no need to pretend life is back to normal just yet.
I loved both the stories of Riley’s anxieties & her IMADOG photos. She was proof that love can overcome tragedy. When my 9 year old rabbit passed away last year, it was the support of my twitter friends (most of whom I’ve never met offline) that provided much needed comfort. It’s a crazy future we live in, but a wonderful one.
I keep crying every time I read your blog. I have an older dog whose owner died and he ended up in the pound with 24 hours to live. I fostered him and he never left. I have no clue of his age but old dog. I know my heart will break when his time comes because he is such a part of my pack and a loving spirit. He had so many behavioral tells about what has happened to him. He is so forgiving. Hugs to you and your family
Rosemary Wilson
It’s only been a couple of days. You can’t expect to just “get over it” like that. I’ve seen people get truly weird over people who they knew less time than this dog was a part of your family. I shed a couple tears when I heard the news and I’ve only known Riley through your posts. Your house is the one affected, more than affected any other. Anyone else goes home to a normal routine. Yours and Anne ‘ s have to change around the loss, so it takes a while. This dog was in your life for 13 years. That’s a long time! There are marriages that haven’t lasted that long! For me, I lost my Joey-bird last year. I’d had him for 10 years nearly and I was broken for days (i found out at work, out of town, after being gone all week…it was horrible). I got some funny looks over my red, puffy eyes while I tried to work. When I mentioned what had happened, though, there wasn’t a soul in that place that didn’t sympathise. A few cried with me. It is OK to mourn. There are a lot of people grieving with you, if only in spirit. Whatever your beliefs on the afterlife, Riley had a great life with you. Riley was loved. That’s the most important thing in the world.
Hold on to the dream…
We’re going through this too. A couple of months ago, we had to put down my husbands cat of 15 years. Last month, my cat of 16 years. A week later, we learned that the cat that was born on our wedding day (10 years in May) has cancer and only has about a month left. In less than 6 months, we’re going from having 4 cats to 1. It sucks.
So sorry for your loss, Wil. She had an AMAZING life with you guys. <3
Hi Wil,
About a month ago my dog Mac died. I know how painful it is. I am in the process of locating another rescue dog to adopt. I was reluctant at first, not really wanting to experience pain like that again. My niece sent me this about a dog’s last will and testament. It helped me, maybe it will make you feel better as well.
Given your family’s advocacy for rescue animals, you may have seen this already. But I thought it worth sharing.
Slainte
Kathleen
A Dog’s Last Will and Testament
Before humans die, they write their last will and testament, giving their home and all they have to those they leave behind. If, with my paws, I could do the same, this is what I’d ask…
To a poor and lonely stray, I’d give my happy home; my bowl and cozy bed, soft pillow and all my toys; the lap, which I loved so much; the hand that stroked my fur; and the sweet voice that spoke my name.
I’d will to the sad, scared, shelter dog the place I had in my human’s loving heart, of which there seemed no bounds.
So, when I die, please do not say, “I will never have a pet again, for the loss and the pain is more than I can stand.”
Instead, go find an unloved dog, one whose life has held no joy or hope, and give my place to him.
This is the only thing I can give…
The love I left behind.
– Author Unknown
Seamus is undoubtedly grieving. He has lost a member of his pack, too. When my old goldie, Ginnie, died, her cat, Maggie, climbed up on a tall bookshelf and stayed there for two weeks, only coming down to use the litter box, and presumably to eat, although I never saw her eat during that time. Bit by bit, Maggie recovered, just as I did. You will always miss Riley, but over time you will recover, and all the sadness will be replaced by sweet memories. And, like I am now, you will cry whenever you read about people losing their beloved friends.
Mr. and Mrs. Wheaton,
Several years ago I had two male dogs, Max and Buddy. We adopted Max first. He was destructive and wild. I love him. Two years later, a chronic runaway sheltie happened into our yard during a fence repair and the two made fast friends. I realized Max needed a Buddy and he was adopted two months later. They hated each other. No fights, but absolutely no bonding either. They eventually became tolerable of each other as they aged but never really became “housemates” … until Max got old. Max deteriorated first but mildly. He went blind and deaf so Bud became his eyes and ears. Max was terrified of thunderstorms and over the years Bud learned the behavior. Max got scared and escaped during a particularity bad storm one year, and the high pitched bark from Bud out the car window is the only thing that let me get my Max home. Later, Bud’s arthritis and bowel control was so bad we had to say goodbye. This is the part I want to impart, the house sibling must “say” goodbye as well. They need to know what’s happened. We didn’t know any better so we took Bud to the vet alone. For over a month afterwards, poor Max would come to the door when we got home wagging and sniffing looking for his guide. It never occurred to us. We had to say goodbye to Max less than 6 months later. I hope Seamus and Marlowe got to say “goodbye” and are taking care of each other. I hope they’re taking care of you too. Puppy kisses from our “new” girls Lulu and Mimi.
Thanks for sharing Riley with us all. I’MADOG is now a regular exclamation in our household. You, Anne, Seamus and Marlowe will get through this together (along with all of us). Hugs.
It takes time, Wil. But I know you know that.
And it never goes away entirely. Nor should it. The pain is the price we pay, and it sucks, but it means that our friends are never forgotten. It means that they do live on.
About two weeks ago, I started crying as my husband and I pulled into a restaurant to have dinner. I’m not a big crier, and my husband was concerned and, frankly, perplexed. I told him, in all honesty, that I missed my dog. We had passed something that reminded me of her (a Cajun restaurant), and I remembered a regret I have over not doing something with her once (we were invited to march with the Mystic Krewe of Barkus, and I couldn’t make it happen), and I broke down.
It happens.
I lost Trinity after fifteen years with her last June 27.
It still hurts, and I still miss her. Most days, I’m okay, but sometimes, I’m not. And that’s okay.
foregoes the Iron Guard salute for once and give you a big, old internet hug, because this time you need it – I’m so sorry, WIl
They’re so wonderful. In a world where every word seems to have at least two meanings and every action has implied responsibilities and commitments and assorted BS up the wazoo – dogs are the proverbial breath of fresh air that balances our comically overly complex and self-important little human lives. If dogs like something, they lick it. If they don’t like something, they growl at it. It’s that simple. You always know where they stand on an issue, and If they’re happy, their whole being radiates it in a way that is infectiously joy-inducing. But even on their darkest day, they never forget family. They understand the value of unconditional love down to the core of their being, and they have zero agenda… other than trying to get part of your sandwich… 😉 but hey, that’s not really an agenda because they make no attempt to hide it – and as a pack member – let’s face it, you owe them a nibble.
Suffice it to say, they are quite simply the finest friends ever conceived.
I’m sorry that you lost your wonderful friend.
Oh Wil, everyone moves through the grief in their own way, you take your journey and we’ll be right here. When my beloved cat, Linus, died in 2013, I couldn’t bring myself to move/remove his toys until I moved out of that apartment. I completely understand not being able to move Riley’s stuff yet. She’s family and always will be.
I understand the pain of losing a furry family member. Last year at this time Eric and I lost our cat, Sugar, to kidney disease. She had been with us 20 years, and we will always feel her absence.
It’s very tempting to try and minimize the grief of losing a friend and family member who also happens to be an animal. I encourage you not to.When I lost my cat of 17 years it took a lot of time to process it, he been through every step of my adult life, as I got him as a tiny kitten in my very first apartment, he had seen it all. The relationship, this witness, is no longer there.
I lost my cat last September on the 25th. Just a little after midnight. My Dad didn’t want her inside the house with the dog’s He’s full of shit and knows it too. She was with Caitlin and her fiancée. The “city” told me I had to move into the house, they said I was “camping”) HAHA! The was the last time I seen her too I hugged her really tight and told her I love you. You will always be my special girl. (She was a rescue cat). Something told me to tell her that. Not knowing I would the last time I’d see her. And it was. Seeing her laying in her cat carrier I just started crying my eyes out. She was all I had left, I lost everything that day. And the pain just gets worse everyday, 13 years is pretty good age for her. My cat was 12 1/2 year old. She’s buried on the 5 acres where all the dogs are, 1 sheep and 1 cat (her). Would you like to know how much that property is out there? They’re pretty rich dogs. The census had it at 1/4 million. Al the crap they’re building out there, I do believe it’s Zone a C. For commercial. How I wish I had money. I’d be able to get the things I want at Abaxion.com. They have great stuff. Wish to get rid of any negativity, burn a small black candle. It helped me greatly. The pain will always be there, we just have to learn how to live with it. I am truly sorry for losing Riley. 🙁
I’m so sorry for your loss, Wil.
It’s been years since I lost my Didi and Salem, but I still miss them. And of course Seamus is going to miss Riley, as they were packmates. Marlowe too. It’s only been a few days, so don’t be so hard on yourself. I didn’t even know Riley and the news of her passing had me in tears. Give yourself permission to grieve, as it’s a legitimate loss.
As painful as it can be to lose a pet, my wife and I remind ourselves of all of the joy we experienced with them over the years. Grief is a terrible, but necessary price to pay. To shield yourself from that grief is to deny yourself that joy. We often reminisce about our cats who have left us as we lay down to sleep.
I’m sitting here with tears streaming down my face. Grieve however you need to. I have a bathroom that needs to be painted, but I won’t because then I would have to wash off the dirt mark my Rags left when he laid against the wall. And he died in 2011. The love of the two dogs I have now doesn’t erase the loss of that dog..
It’s only been a few days. I don’t think there is any rush to get over this. Give yourself a break – there’s nothing wrong with feeling how you feel.
I don’t know you, only from what I’ve seen on tv. I don’t even follow your blog – I only happened to stumble across this one today by accident. However, my heart is breaking for you. A real pet owner takes that animal in and loves them as part of their family… and LOSING a member of your family is something that hurts to the core.
Yes, It may get a little easier with time, but that loss will always be with you – and that is not necessarily a bad thing. It means this precious animal was loved – truly loved – in the way she deserved… in the way that not all pets get to experience. The fact that you are hurting so badly is a testament to how much she meant to you, and there is no doubt that she knew and felt it in her time with you.
Thank you for sharing your story – your feelings – your pain. If nothing else, may it serve as a good reminder to the rest of us out here to not take our pets and loved ones for granted. Now, please excuse me while I go hug my dog.
For me it rips part of the heart away, a hole can be filled, but
a rip forever gone is never replaced.
All animals dream, but only dogs dream about us.
Wil;
We’ve lost a few dogs over the years, and it’s never easy, and it’s never the same. I still get teary thinking about a dog we only had for four years that we lost 15 years ago, but rarely about a dog we had for 11 years that we lost just four years ago. Everyone grieves differently, and everything you’re feeling is okay. Sending lots of positive energy to you and Anne as you work through this.
-Kirsten
We just lost our 10 year old Dachshund mix Zoe last month to heart failure. I wholeheartedly understand what you’re going through right now. This is the second loss of a beloved pet for me in the last four years (our 13 year old Beagle/Heeler mix Rowdy passed away in 2011). And yet…we keep loving them.
Oh no 🙁 I’m so sorry for your loss. Hugs to you and your family.
Wil – I know how hard this is. Best wishes for peace and healing in time for you and your family. Hang in there.
I wish I could say that I don’t know what you’re feeling, but it’s all too familiar. I lost my Bruno at the end of December. I wish I could tell you that it will get easier, but I haven’t reached that point yet myself so I just have to hope that all the people who tell me it gets easier are correct. Thank you for being so open about your grief for Riley. Even though it hits so close to home and brings me to tears, there’s comfort in knowing that someone else feels and understands this deep loss. It’s a subtle and unintentional (for me at least) tendency to retreat and isolate during such pain. So I thank you for sharing, because even though we haven’t met, it helps me and no doubt others not feel so alone in this grief process. Wishing you comfort and healing.
There are no words to ease any of what you are going through. You are not alone and those who have had loss in their life of any sort understand and grieve with you. Grief is real and it is confusing, but it evolves and changes and becomes different. Be gentle with yourselves and each other castle Wheaton. Much love. Be well.
My heart and thoughts continue to go out to you and the rest of the Wheatons. It’s true what they say that those we love never truly leave us. This world is a better place for having had Riley in it, and her life was treasured knowing that she had an amazing family.
I know it’s too soon to consider these words, but someone said this a long time ago when a dear friend of mine passed away.
Don’t cry because her life is over. Smile because it happened.
They will not go quietly,
the dogs that shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survives.
Old habits still make us think
we hear a barking at the door.
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
And sometimes, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them…
and always will.
~ Linda Barnes
Oh man… I do remember well when our family dog died aged 15 two years ago. I still occassionally expect her to greet me at the door when I’m visiting my parents.
I’ve found this at the time, it’s one of the lesser known poems by Kipling:
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
Man, I feel you. My aunt and Uncle just lost their other cat Koko and he was part of our whole family. He entertained us on Thanksgivings. We are all missing him.
Sending prayers your way as you all grieve for a very lovable dog!
When I lost my first dog, Boo, just shy of 16, I was teaching in a city school. The kids knew the dog was failing, and I took off a day to put her down and get my head together. Came back the next day and one of the students asked me if I’d had to put her down. I said yes and started to choke up. One boy said, “Why she so upset, is’ jest a dog….” and another girl immediately turned around and shouted, “Shut up, stupid, dog like a member ‘yo FAM’ly!” Then she turned back around and told me to “go ahead ‘n cry” if I needed to, but she got me smiling instead.
It’s universal, the love of a pet. Let yourself grieve–you did lose a family member. So hug your other doggies and give yourself time. And when you’re ready to add to the pack, Riley will understand.
I’m sorry to hear of your loss. It’s never easy to lose a pet. It feels different each time because every animal is unique and special. I send my prayers and well wishes to you and your family (both human and non-human).
All Dogs Go To Space.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=LmkxSxk0ah8
Somewhere, out there, all dogs past are chilling on Dog Planet.
Back in November, I said goodbye to my pup. She was 9, and it was totally unexpected. I don’t think I’m even remotely over it. I ate an apple the other day and missed sharing a small bite or two with her. I still think of my chair in the living room as hers. And her cat, who is of the same age, is just beginning to recover from his grief over losing her (really.)
I’m so sorry, Wil and Anne. You rock for giving Riley such a great life.