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!”
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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I’m so sorry for your loss. When my Ardaladog died nearly two years ago, half-paralyzed from a cluster of congenital back problems, I decided I was going to believe in Heaven – or at least Doggie Heaven – because how else would I be able to see her again, running free like the derpy corgi-gsd mix she was, herding all the malti-poos and eating all the salmon treats in the afterlife? I can only hope I live a good enough life to deserve to go to Doggie Heaven. I hope Cubby and Riley are chilling with her now.
Based on all of your posts, she was a wonderful dog who was given a wonderful and full second chance at life! I’m very sorry for your family’s loss.
I’m so sorry. I think the “pain in the ass” dogs are the ones we miss the most.
I’m sorry for your loss.
Wil, our pets are just as close to us as our human families. Riley & Ferris were here for a reason. You didn’t just save them THEY SAVED YOU. So grieve…then smile with memories of good days & bad. She’s still with you ya know. They BOTH are. Man you were blessed Friend. Arf!
Yeah, its a tough thing to have to deal with. Many of us know what its like to loose a good animal friend, and yet everyone of us needs to deal with it in their own way. I hope you find peace and I am sorry for your loss.
Aren’t they amazing? They teach us to be vulnerable, be in the moment and change us forever. Hugs for your family.
Our pets are family. It hurts when they leave us, but it is soooo worth it for the love they bring.
Oh Wil, I’m so sorry. I have truly enjoyed hearing about your dogs over the years, especially in your podcast. I love that you have taken the time to invite these beings into your life. Thank you for sharing this with us. It made me sad, but in a good way.
Our dog, Balto, passed away unexpectedly in February. We had him with us for almost 13 years. He was with us through every house my wife and I lived in and with every other dog we’d ever had. The day we lost him was the worst day of my life. Our newest puppy has some big shoes to fill.
I really feel for you and, having been through it, can tell you that someday it will be ok. There will be ups and downs, and the memories will lead you more ups than downs. Take care and hug your dog. It will help…
I’m so sorry for your loss, Wil.
I’m sorry for your loss. Dogs (and cats, for that matter) have such short, but meaningful lives.
I remember a night on the floor like that. I didn’t have a Riley at the time. How very special she was. I’m so sorry. Hugs.
So sorry for your loss. May time heal what mere words cannot…
It’s always hard to lose a friend, and a good dog – or even a weird, slightly neurotic dog that no one else really gets (or maybe especially the weird, slightly neurotic ones) – can be the best friend of all.
I’m really sorry to hear this Wil. Thank you for sharing your family with us.
I’m another dog person, and I’m sincerely sorry for your loss. I’ve felt that pain, and it is huge. I have two other dogs now, so I know I will feel it again. Living with a dog, especially when you can do something to improve their lives, is worth it, though, I believe.
I’m sorry to hear about Riley, I hope her memory will bring you happy thoughts, even though she isn’t there.
I love Riley because Riley was so lovable. Riley overcame all the stuff that life threw, because “I am a dog.” I am so sorry. You all have a special place in my heart. Another dog who needs your love is coming very soon.
So sorry for your loss. I just lost my cat of 14 1/2 years last week, it’s tough when a pet dies, but we know going into it that we will be their entire life, while they will only be a chapter in ours, but we are all better for the time we spent loving them.
Pets are an intimate part of so many families’ lives. I know that so many want to trivialize their role. “It was just a…,” is not acceptable with a creature that has a personality and unique quality they bring to your life. I’m sorry for yours and your family’s loss.
We lost our big, black dog, Jose in December, just before Christmas, and we have an aging little, white dog, Gypsy who is teetering on the edge of 17 yrs, and I’m sure we’ll be mourning her loss, sooner than not. I’ve been grieving for the one we lost and also for the one that is still here. Loving a dog is the best thing a human can commit to, and we are lucky they let us. Our pets leave such an impression on our lives while they’re here and such a hole in our hearts when they go. I hope you find peace soon. Sending you much love across the interwebs. <3
I am so sorry Wil, for the loss of your beloved Riley. Rest in peace special girl.
I am so sorry for your loss.
I am so so sorry to hear that you lost your dog. I honestly think dogs do know when we are grieving, and do whatever they can to make us feel better. A little over a year ago my bunny died very suddenly (and the vets could not find a cause). I got the call from the vet while I was at work and I was devastated. My boss bring’s his dog, Dude, to work 2 or 3 days a week, and that happened to be one of those days. Throughout that entire day, Dude would periodically sneak out of my boss’s office to come visit me, putting his head in my lap or curling up at my feet until my boss called him back. I’m not even his person, but Dude did his best to comfort me and it meant a lot. Dogs are wonderful animals, and I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must be to lose a friend that has been a part of your life for so long.
I’m so sorry Wil. I know it’s small relief but I have always enjoyed pictures of your fur family and seeing how much happiness they brought your family. I hope my love for my dog is equally inspiring and heartwarming to someone.
I understand. I am very sorry.
I am sorry for your loss, we lost our 13 year old Husky a year ago at Christmas. They fill our hearts with so much love when they are here, and a huge hole when they leave. Riley was a one in a million dog. My condolences.
Your anecdote makes me think of that “Who Rescued Whom” (yeah, we found a place online to get a grammatically correct version – NERDS) bumper sticker. You rescued her after a terrifying experience, and she was there when you needed her, too. So sorry for your loss.
My mother-in-law passed away this morning. Her suffering is over and I am thankful for that. However, nothing will replace the hole she leaves behind in our loving family. Family, in my mind, is not defined by species. I feel your pain and hope your memories of your puppy will always give you comfort and joy.
I’m sorry for your loss, Wil. It is never easy to lose a pet, as they are so clearly family members. xx
My sorrow for your sorrow.
So sorry, we went through this in September and its still raw.
And thanks for writing this. It is important to feel one’s way through events like this.
I’m sorry for your loss. They always leave a hole behind, when they leave, but their presence still remains in the collective of your hearts. They’re family in their own special ways, and I am sure Riley knew she was loved. RIP Riley
I’m so sorry, Wil. We lost our 14-year-old Fiona last summer, and I’m not sure when that hole starts to fill in. hugs
Thank you for sharing such a personal and emotional time with us, Wil. Sending hugs and love to your family.
I’m so glad I’m not the only one that’s incredibly bothered by that Rainbow Bridge stuff. Losing a furbaby is never easy. I’ve lost so many over the years, and it never gets easier… It just reminds me to let my kitties sit on my lap a little longer, even when it’s inconvenient… Rub her stinky breath on my nose whenever she wants, because I remember that someday I’m going to have to say goodbye to them.
Whenever I hear of someone else losing a dearly loved pet, my mind goes back to when I wrote about losing mine, as seen here: https://www.hmseuryalus.com/?p=82
Hope that link helps some (no bridges, I promise!)
I am so sorry, Wil. I will miss seeing Riley’s beautiful face on Twitter; I know you miss her so much more. Each dog that comes into our lives is unique and special. I don’t know you or your family personally, but I offer all of you my deepest sympathy.
I am so sorry for your loss. I have said goodbye to three of my beastie companions in the last few years. I mourned them, and they each mourned the companion who passed before them. Thank you for rescuing her and loving her and giving her a good life.
Wil–My deepest condolences for your loss, not just to you, but to Anne, and to Ryan, and to Nolan as well.If I may be so bold permit me to offer three small bits of advice, for whatever good they may do: 1) Ventilate your grief. Don’t even try to hold it back; any grief counselor will tell you that’s dangerous. Let yourself cry, get your feelings out in the open, so that you can begin to heal. 2) Share your grief with your wife and your sons. Remember, they’ll be hurting, too, and the simple act of sharing your sorrow, of talking about Riley and all she meant to the four of you, will do both you and them a world of good–more, in fact, than you can possibly realize right now. 3) Get another dog. Not right away, perhaps. But, when you feel the time is right (and you’ll know when that time comes, I promise you!), go to the rescue shelter and find another dog to love. You knew that Riley was the right dog when you chose her; when the time comes, trust your instincts to let you know the right time, and the right dog to take home and make a part of your lives. Don’t ask me how; I couldn’t possibly tell you if my life depended on it., but trust me, you WILL know, and Anne will know, and, even though they are now living their own lives, Ryan and Nolan will know, too. My sincerest wish is that time time will come soon, but if it doesn’t, just trust that it will come. Until then, let the memories of Riley sustain the four of you as you all move on with your lives. Take care!
Nothing I say can make it better. Hug Seamus and Marlowe and Anne. (I am glad I’m not the only one weirded out by the rainbow bridge thing.) Lost our 18 1/2 year old cat last month and I still expect him to come demand lunch or share my office in the afternoon.
Just to add my voice to the multitude, I’m terribly sorry for your loss. Last fall we were a family of 6, 2 dogs, 2 cats, my husband and myself. Last November we lost our 14 year old cat, Toki. She was special, in the definitely derpy way, would attack me for bananas and apples, and oddly enough, loved to play fetch with her toy mice. She was old and diabetic, with failing kidneys, so we knew it was coming soon, but her last days were hard. My husband and I both were inconsolable for days, and I constantly was breaking down at work (which is hard when you’re in customer service).
The day after Toki passed, my husband and I made a deal; every time either of us got upset, we had to come up with a Toki story. Something to show how happy and weird she was, be it the time she actually caught her tail to how she’d wait for me to turn the apple so she could have a fresh side to gnaw on, we had to have a happy story to make us laugh through the tears.
Maybe this can help you and your family, maybe not. Just know that we, as a community, grieve with you, both for Riley and for our own babies who touched our hearts.
Hugs and kitty kisses Wil, IMADOG Riley was one helluva dog!
Reading your blog and following you and your wife on Twitter it’s so obvious how much you both love your family. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.
Deepest condolences. It hurts to lose our fur babies.
Aw, man. Now you’ve gone and made me all teary. We’ve all lost pets. They’re family. It hurts, and it never gets any easier, unless you have a pet who will outlive you (a parrot?).
I am crying with you, Wil. No matter how long our children are with us, it is never long enough. Hugs!
Wil, I am so very sorry for your loss. We lost two cats within a year in 2009/2010 and I miss them to this day. Especially my big ginger tom, Mr Wigglebottom, who was 17 pounds of cat and the only male but the sweetest soul. He wouldn’t leave my side when I was home and he was my baby. You will never forget Ferris and Riley but the loss will turn into thankful remembrance for their presence in your life.
Just <3