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. I lost my pup about 6 months ago and it was a terrible loss for me. I remember calling for him once, hoping it was just a cruel joke and that I’d simply imagined him dying in my arms. They are family, often the truest friends we have. My heart goes out to you.

  2. Thank you for giving her many good years. Thank you for sharing Riley with us. She’s a beauty. Many condolences for your loss.

  3. I’m so sorry, Wil. I’ve been reading your blog for so long, Riley feels like a part of my life too. You helped him live a better life.

  4. In a virtual way Riley was part of all our lives who follow these pages and your other projects. We are sad with your family. Hugs, man.

  7. So sorry to hear that Wil, I know you and Felicia will both by trying to cope with the dog shaped hole in your life right now. Pets are definitely family, and it can hurt just as much, if not more, then when we lose a human family member. Riley was extremely lucky to have you and Anne as her parents, and like everyone on here, it feels like we have gotten to know her as well through your photos and posts.

    All of us share in your grief, and I hope that you can remember her for all the joy she brought to your life. I know thinking about that helps me when I have a case of the sads.

    Take care, Simon.

  11. I’ve never like the rainbow bridge either, or saying goodbye to lovjng, selfless friends. So sorry for your loss. Life is never the same when a dog joins us, or after they keave.

  14. I ran across this at a time when a dear friend of mine said a final farewell to her beloved dog. It says so well what I have tried so often to say to others. Having been through the grief of losing a beloved pet, I know what others feel and know that it will get better. I just have had a hard time putting that into words. This does so eloquently, I hope:

    “I will not insult you by trying to tell you that one day you will forget. I know as well as you that you will not. But, at least, in time you will not remember as fiercely as you do now—and I pray that that time may be soon.”

    From “Ross” by Terence Rattigan

    Riley was a lucky, lucky girl to have been a member of a family who loved her so much. You will miss her, I know—but I truly believe that love never dies and that those who are remembered with love live on in our hearts. It’s not the same; I only hope you find comfort and joy in your memories.

    Above all, I wish you peace, kind sir.

  16. I still miss my dog charlie, he passed 10 years ago, the pain is real, but the love is eternal

  17. I am so sorry for your loss Wil.
    Though sad that was a great story about how Riley tried to make you happy through your previous loss. It is amazing how much pets can sense that and do what they can to help.
    Take care man.

  21. I’m terribly sorry for your loss of furry wonderfulness. I’m glad though that Riley had people who were happy to have her and that her life was a pretty good one. Even with her medical issues, it sounds like life ended on her own terms, which is an unhappy thing but much better than the alternative. I’m glad that you have Anne with you and that Seamus has Marlowe and that you all have each other. May the empty place on the carpet not make you all sad for too long.

  22. Condolences on your loss, Wil. It sucks that dogs have such short life spans, but because of you and your family’s love, it made Riley’s short life a wonderful one.

    Thank you for rescuing her, and thank you for making her life great.

  24. So sorry for your loss Wil. Thank you for being a caring owner to a dog who may no have stood a chance without you. You made her life wonderful and its hard and will be for a while but just remember she loved you and you loved her and that will never change.

  25. My thoughts and well wishes are with you and your family. I lost my dog Liz about a year ago, and though I’ve got three other fuzzballs to make me smile, I get what you mean about the hole in your heart. They are family. Lots of love to you and yours

  31. Wil – I’m so sorry to hear this. I well remember your post about Ferris and have thought often of your heart-felt tribute to that dog, and was saddened to read that Riley had died. You’ve done so much for dogs (and cats!) through your work with the Pasadena Humane Society. I’ll send a donation to them in honor of Riley. Take care.

  32. Dude, We lost Jakey Bakey last year to the big C. Even though there are 5 other buddies still with us there is a Jakey Bakey sized impression that nothing else quite fits into. Thanks for caring enough to have a place for Riley. You know he appreciated you.

  33. I miss the dogs who have been a part of my life for years. I grew up with Fritz, who lived to the amazing age of 16, an old, old fellow for a German Shepherd mix. Finn, the first dog I had as an adult we nicknamed Doctor Finn, Medicine Dog because he did Dogs on Wheels and brought a man out of a coma. He only made it to 9 and died on Mother’s Day from cancer of the spleen. Bran came into out lives next and my son grew up with him. He died when my son went away to college. Hardest call I ever made. He was tough as nails, surviving cancer twice. Now, we have our crazy Lir. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly have another dog in my life we saw a new rescue opened up and just went by to show some support. There he was, greeting us like he knew we were his family. Yes, they take a piece of our hearts with them when they go, but oh what they give us while they are here with us. My condolences on your loss, but I’m also glad you see the joy in the memories. It can be so hard to feel the joy when the grief is fresh.

  35. Our dogs are family members just as much as humans, and I have known those sudden waves of grief well. I am so sorry for your loss.

  36. I share your sadness. Whenever someone posts that their dog has died, I remember the line of dogs that extend back to my childhood: Dobby & Ginger who are with us now, Mycroft & Isabelle, Sherlock & Cindy, Bear, and KIng, my first dog. We became a two dog house when Meribeth and I got married. I remember each dog vividly and realized each dog not only brought joy but each taught me another lesson in life.
    Dogs make us better people. I think they help us increase our capacity to love and care for others, and show us how to live in the moment.
    It is tragic that their lives are so short, but to paraphrase Tyrell in “Bladerunner”: The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and dogs burn so very. very brightly.
    When we adopt another dog, we honor our previous dogs. And we continue to become more human by bringing more dog into ourselves.

  37. So very sorry, Wil. Hugs to you and your human family and pets and/or scritches as preferred to the furry ones. Her IMADOG pictures always made my day; such a silly but sweet face.

  38. My condolences, I lost my dog when she was 19 years old. I didn’t know how I was going to move on without her she was a part of my life for so long through childhood, college, marriage, and lived to see my first son. I miss her everyday. The road ahead is rough but I know you will remember the good times as I do and it helps you make it through.

  40. Thanks for making me cry at work. Hugs to you and yours on the loss of your family member.

    I agree about that bridge thing…

  41. What a lucky, blessed dog was Riley! A safe, comfortable home. Always food and water when she wanted it. BOYS to play with, for crying’ out loud! Toys! Walks! Treats! Beds and couches! She was loved, she was safe, she was cared for, she was accepted for what and who she was. Oh, the life of Riley!
    I am so sorry for this loss in your family.

  42. I’m so sorry, Wil. We’ve all been there, and we’ll be there again, but it still hurts. You and yours are in my thoughts.

  43. Many hugs to your family and all your furbabies. I too lost a good fur-friend on Easter Sunday. My Bailey-dog passed at 15 years of age and I can only hope that wherever our loved ones go when they leave this earth, that there is someone there to throw a stick for her.

  44. Thank you Wheatons, for sharing Riley with all of us. Thank you Riley, for sharing yourself with the Wheatons. We hold you all in our hearts.

  45. Dammit Wil, you made me cry again. :'( I know I said it on Twitter last night, but I’ll say it again: My heartfelt condolences to you, Anne, Ryan, and Nolan.

  47. I know how much you are hurting right now, I still can’t talk about my first dog without crying and he’s been gone for 9 years now. Riley was a part of your family, she will always have a place in your heart. And it doesn’t matter if she was difficult and neurotic, she was still someone you loved. You and your family gave Riley a fantastic life full of love, she was a lucky dog. And you were lucky humans to have her in your life, making you better people everyday. RIP Riley.

  49. The other day I found an old camera, so I naturally checked to see what pictures were on it. There were the usual vacation snaps and videos, but there was also one of our cat eating. Nothing fancy, she was just eating from her bowl. But it made me miss her all over again.

    My sincere condolences for your loss.

  50. I’m so sorry. We recently lost our Great Dane, Merlin. He was a pain. He was neurotic and it got worse when we lost our Lab a couple of years ago. But I got him when I was pregnant with my son. It wasn’t the best decision I ever made. Having a puppy at the same time as having morning sickness was…challenging. But when I saw the condition of the breeder’s (and I use that term loosely) home I couldn’t not take him. He was such a sweetheart. Dumb, friendly and popular in our neighborhood. Then he suddenly got sick and we lost him.
    My son had never known life without this big monstrous black and white spotted floor covering.
    We are currently dog-less for the first time in 16 years. Our cat is enjoying himself immensely. I’m not ready. He left a 185 pound hole when he died. And I don’t think I want to fill that up yet.
    I always laughed when I saw the I’m a Dog pictures. Merlin was like that.

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