I can barely define the shape of this moment in time

Last night, our dog, Riley, died. Today would have been her thirteenth birthday.

Riley had a long and wonderful life. She lived much longer than the person who locked her in a closet at a motel that was being torn down thought she would, and though she could be a huge pain in the ass, she was an important part of our family.

Riley was anxious and nervous to the point of being neurotic. She was terrified of the garden hose, had terrible arthritis in all of her joints, and was almost completely deaf. Still, she was happy these last few months, getting to sleep on a the couch whenever she wanted, or sleeping at my feet while I worked in my office. She didn’t want to play very much, but when she did I’d swear she was ten years younger. She still liked to take walks, but she was slow and stayed so close to Anne and me, she hadn’t needed a leash for almost a year.

She wasn’t crazy about Marlowe, and I think Marlowe knew it. Marlowe has so much energy, I think she sort of scared Riley, who was brittle and nervous as a result of it. But Marlowe always tried to help calm Riley down. She would lick her face and nuzzle her all the time, and she stayed out of Riley’s way the rest of the time.

Riley was the last direct connection we had to Ryan and Nolan’s childhoods. She has been part of their lives for so long, through so much and so many things, they lost a member of their family even more intensely than I did, and I have a huge IMADOG hole in my heart right now.

I want to take a second and share a moment Riley and I had several years ago, right after our dog Ferris had died. I was alone in our house because Anne was out of town, Ryan was in college, and Nolan was busy being a teenager. Ferris had died the day before, practically in my arms, in the lobby of the vet:

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.

Riley was a pain in the ass sometimes. She was  complicated, damaged, and difficult, but she was ultimately a sweet and loving member of our family.

I really miss her, and her terrible breath, and that wonderfully derpy look on her face that always said “IMADOG!”

IMADOG

Bye bye, piles. I love you.

A small request: if you choose to comment, please don’t post that Rainbow Bridge thing. I know you mean well, but it has always made me uncomfortable.

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474 thoughts on “I can barely define the shape of this moment in time”

  1. At last count, I have had and lost 18 pets in my lifetime. With that, I can state as fact: No matter how many times you go through it, it never sucks less. The only consolation that we have is the time spent in-between, and our lives are so much the better for it. In time, the pain will fade, but that canine-shaped hole in your heart never goes away. Getting another does not fill it, it only makes our hearts grow larger, until we amass a gigantic heart with a lot of little dog-sized holes. I’m truly sorry for your loss.

    1. The way I think of it, the price of great love is the pain we must feel when it is gone. It is a price I gladly pay over and over again. And my heart breaks for the Wheatons, even as I know they and Riley had 13 wonderful, would-not-trade-a-moment-for-anything years.
      As Carly Simon sang, don’t mind if I fall apart / There’s more room in a broken heart.

  2. My heart hurts for you and your family (animal and human). Wishing you all strength and solace to get through the next few days.

  3. I have always found solace in the honesty of “My heart has joined the thousand; because today my friend stopped running.”.

  4. This kind of loss is difficult and I am sorry you had to experience it. It took me two years before I could talk about my beloved Nakai, a black lab cross, without tearing up. Time will help you heal, we all heal eventually.

  6. Tons of sympathy, currently grieving death of a pet myself. Wish I could hug you guys, although, Wil wouldn’t really want me to hug him because I’m a stranger; wish I had the perfect comforting words, but if I knew any I’d be using them on myself, too. This just sucks. Fare well, Riley. Good girl.

  8. I lost my cat Romeo after 18 wonderful years and it still hurts, but it’s getting better. It’s been a year and I might just get down to the Burbank Animal Shelter and find a new sweet kitty soon, it takes time. I am so sorry for your loss Anne and Wil and kids, I know what you are feeling.

  9. Pictures of Riley always put a smile on my face! Thanks you, Wheaton family, for sharing that with the world.

  10. I love my dogs more than anything. They are my solace and joy. Sending love and dog kisses your way.

  11. I am so very sorry. I am a veterinary technician, and unfortunately, this is a daily part of my world. It never gets easy, especially when its your own dog. I had to euthanize my little dachshund Tucker about a year and a half ago. He was only 5. He had ruptured a disc in his back the year before, which I had surgically repaired, but his MRI showed he had multiple other unstable discs and he was just a ticking time bomb. It happened again about a year after the first time and financially I just couldnt do it again. I still feel guilty that I had to put a price on his head and even moreso because its my job to save peoples pets, but I couldnt do it for him. For the first little while afterward, I’d hold his collar while out walking my other dog just to hear the tags jingle. He always had his nose to the ground, as dachshunds do, and would make snuffling noises and I swear I heard those noises more than once afterward. I swear I heard him bark at the door one day when I came home like he always did. It took me a good 6-8 months to put his stuff away. His crate in my living room where it always was, with his bed and his food bowl, with kibble still in it. The water eventually evaporated out of his water bowl. When I finally decided I was strong enough to put it away, I cried hysterically the entire time.His bowl is in the kitchen cupboard. I still think about him every day, cry about him often, most recently last night. His older sister is turning 11 in July, which is very old for a boxer, I’ve had her since I was 18. I will be a complete wreck when its her time. Its amazing the hold they get on us, and how much it destroys us when we have to let them go, and yet I could not picture my life without a dog in it. I hope you take solace in knowing that you gave her an amazing home, and she will always be thankful for that. While we would love them all to live forever, they just don’t think like that. Dogs don’t understand longevity of life the way we do. But they do understand quality of life, her life was filled with happiness once you guys came along and wherever she is right now, shes looking down at you guys with that derpy dog look you love so much and I’m sure Ferris is there with her <3

  12. Sorry to hear this Wil, the IMADOG posts were my favourite part of twitter and I only just discovered the news today when I investigated why one hadn’t followed the other two. Hope it doesn’t hurt for too long.

  16. I’m sorry for your loss. I know that sounds trite, but it was not so long ago that my dog passed, and I know how you feel. It gets better, but she’ll always be with you, in a way.

  17. I just found out about Riley. So sorry to hear about her passing. Dogs may not be around us for long but they sure do leave a lasting impression.

  19. You gave her the Best Possible Life she could have had. That’s something to be proud of and carry with you, always.

  20. Pingback: Wil Wheaton and #FoothillsIPAdog | Foothills Brewing

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