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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Our three pups got extra loving tonight. May your memories comfort you and may you find peace soonest.
Your heart is bigger because you shared it with Riley. You gave her love and care and a great life. I’m sorry, and I wish you comfort and peace.
My sincere condolences for your loss. The animals we invite into our homes become our treasured and cherished family members, and it leaves a huge void when they are gone. I hope you are comforted knowing that Riley was loved and valued by your family every day he was with you. Big hugs.
We don’t have kids. Well, we do, but they’re short, hairy, and have really bad table manners. I can’t imagine life without them. Each one has their own personality, quirks, and “attitudes”. Just like people, one individual can’t replace another. We have a soft spot for seniors, so we lose them sooner than if we’d gotten a puppy. It’s worth the grief to have known, loved, and watched them be happy at the end of their lives. I understand and am very sorry for your loss. I hope it helps just a little to know you gave Riley a second chance to be loved and happy. You made a difference.
Oh Wil, I am so sorry for your loss. Coincidentally, I was just reading “I’m a Geek” at lunch this afternoon and read the chapter about the death of your aunt. I was very moved and I remembered that someone had quoted part of that passage from The Prophet to me when I lost my beloved cat several years ago. May those words bring you comfort again now. The sorrow does share space with the joy/love. It takes up the same space. And the sorrow will pass. And you get to keep the love forever.
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises
was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.
– Kahlil Gibran, “The Prophet”
Oh NO I LOVED Riley. I’m so sorry.
We lost our Rusty under a month ago. Didn’t realize/remember how it was going to affect me. I, too, have a hole in my hear.
My thoughts are with you and your family.
Wil,
My condolences to yourself and your family. While it seems trite to say I know what you are going through, or I know how you feel right now, please know that you have family, friends and strangers all wishing you the best and sending you feeling of support and comfort during this time.
My heart goes out to you, Will. I lost Storm, an amazing Siberian Husky, and my best friend of 12 years, just a few days ago, last Thursday. It’s really, really hard to keep it together sometimes. I feel your pain, and I’m sorry for your loss.
Wil,
So sorry to hear this. I went through this last year when my dog Misty passed. I found great comfort in a poem one of my friends gave to me. It’s in my blog post here: https://vincefry.wordpress.com/2014/06/06/doin-time/
I hope you find it as comforting as I did.
when my dog jack died, i said the same thing to friends about the rainbow bridge thing, and how i didn’t like it, please don’t quote it at me. I actually ended up unfriending someone who got defensive over it.
suffice to say, i kind of am happy to lose a connection with someone because they can’t honor how I process my sadness.
my heart to you.
Animals do know. They communicate in body language in ways that humans rarely grasp. My cat prefers not to be held or to sit too close to people, but when I’m having a bad day, she’ll come to me, purr and kneed on me for a while. It says “I am here. I don’t know what you need, but this is what I can give you.” More than that, more than all the tears you’ll cry without her, she knew in all your actions together that she belonged with your pack. That’s the best life any dog can hope for.
Wil, my heart goes out to you, Anne, Ryan and Nolan. I know how much pain you are in right now. Just remember that Riley’s spirit will always be with you.
We had to put down our formerly abused rescue GSD summer 2014. To ease the grief we adopted another rescue dog asap. My children are too young to understand death but they do understand saving the life of a dog. It made the loss a little easier knowing her toys were now being loved by another rescue dog who is part of our life.
We’re very sorry for your loss. Her years as a part of your family were the best years of her life. She was loved and cherished and safe.
To paraphrase Steve Allen “Old Humans miss many dogs.” And it’s true that when they’re gone, we miss them a bunch. But we never really forget, and if collectively, our lives were brightened, then we all gain from the relationship and the ongoing memory.
PS – Remember your Dogs! and when you’re ready, adopt more.
And—-sorry for your loss. Riley looked like a happy camper in every pic you posted.
Wil, so sorry to hear of your and your family’s loss. Critters seem to get under your skin in a good way, and it’s always hard to say goodbye. Your tribute was heartfelt and beautiful. My thoughts are with you and yours.
I recently became a dog owner/lover for the first time in my life at 40. I had no idea what all the fuss was about until we rescued and loved our dog Olive. My heart and tears go out to you.
I’m so sorry. Losing a fur baby is hard, there is never anyone else who loves you so unconditionally.
I just kind of wanted to curl up and cry when I read this. Literally just this morning I drove back from burying my childhood dog of thirteen years. I dropped everything yesterday afternoon at work and drove three and a half hours to be there to bury him. Because if I had to say goodbye to him over speakerphone, sitting in the gravel next to my car in the parking lot at work, the absolute least I could do was be there to dig a damn hole and mutter one last tearful “good boy”.
There aren’t enough words in the world.
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. She may have been a pain in the ass, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love her or that she was any less a part of your family. Lots of hugs to all of you right now.
I’m so sorry for your loss!! I hope you’ve been able to give and get lots of love and cuddles!
Wil, I am so very sorry to read about Riley passing away. Our pets are as much a part of our family as the humans, and for some of us, more. I know words are hard to read at this moment, but please know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. I know how much you love your cats and dogs, and I also know how hard it is loosing one of them. How lucky Riley was to have such a wonderful family to love and take care of her. I hope you can find some peace during the difficult days ahead. Sending a big hug your way.
She may have been a pain in the ass, but she was your pain in the ass. I had one of those, and I miss him every day. That’s why I loved him so. He chose me to help him because I think he somehow knew how much I needed him. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you for sharing this.
I’m sorry for how much that sucks.
Part of reading your pain reminds me how important our dog is to our family; thank you for that, as well.
May you come to smile in your grief.
We adopted a rescue 5 years ago and she was a pain in the ass – well, more of a pain in the car. She was a lovely miniature schnauzer who loved walks, her toys, and treats but hated the car. Put her in the car and she began yowling, howling, and carrying on like a banshee. We traveled regularly – you can imagine the joy.
On my birthday she began panting heavily and I realized she was in distress. At the vet they couldn’t get a line in for an IV. Her breathing worsened, her blood results were all over the place. While waiting for a video consult with an emergency vet she died in my arms.
Only that evening did I begin to realize what I’d lost. When I went to bed and she wasn’t there snuggling against my back I got an inkling. In the morning she didn’t greet me at the door. She wasn’t lying on the arm of my chair trusting me to keep her from slipping off. Two years have past and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of her. We have another rescue and he’s a joy…but he isn’t Rip.
There’s still an empty dog sized hole in my heart…it just doesn’t ache as much as it did. That’s the best I can offer…that ache exists only because of the joy she gave.
Condolences to the family. It’s never easy, is it?
To Wil, Anne, Ryan, and Nolan, my sincerest of sympathies for the loss of your beloved Riley. Through your tweets and blogs over the years, we came to love her, too. Hugs to Seamus, Marlowe, Luna, and Watson for the loss of their friend as they grieve for her as well.
I know how you feel, I lost my sweet old dog less than a week ago. I still haven’t gotten through a day without crying. My condolences.
I grew up with a dog as a member of our family. He died about 10 years ago and I still remember my last moment with him and it still hurts. I saw a quote just yesterday “Dogs’ only fault is that their lives are too short.” So sorry for your loss.
((Hugs))
There are no words. You and your family will be in my prayers.
I’m so, so sorry for your loss. Hugs to you all from me and my pups.
I’m very sorry for your whole family. It’s really hard to lose our furry friends. You can always take comfort in the fact that you gave her the best life you could and that she was well loved.
I am so sorry for your loss. I’ve known I’d outlive pets, but that never meant accepting it when the day came.
No one that has woven themselves into another’s life is ever truly gone from that life, but I know that doesn’t ease the sorrow. But the good memories, the shared happiness, are still there when all else is past.
The thoughts of me and mine are with you and yours.
Sending you vasty sympathies and heartfelt respect that your love for your friends runs so deep.
Awww prayers
Awe. Praying prayers for your family at this difficult time.
Dogs live such short lives… living with one is an absolute guarantee of heartache. I find this poem a comfort, even if it isn’t soothing.
Dirge Without Music
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the
love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know how you feel.
We had to have our 22 year old cat put to sleep yesterday.
Love
I’m sorry, Wil.She always seemed like a wonderful dog. Hearing about these things always makes me flit back and forth between enjoying this time with my three tinies and dreading the days I’ll lose them. Just gotta try to stay in camp A, I suppose.
I’m so sorry… I had to put my very old cat down over a year ago and just the other night I was looking at photo of her cuddling my husband and I got weepy. I have a couple of older cats and an old dog and I dread the day I have to make that decision again. We pet parents put ourselves through a lot of heart ache…
So sorry for your loss. It’s never easy losing a companion animal.
I feel for you Wil. Got told a month ago that my 18 year old cat Clouseau has a few more months. So she gets all the food she can eat. All the hugs and pets she can stand. She’s slept in my leg and waited at the door for me every day of her life. Gonna be a big hole in my heart and life when she goes. But in the end she was a rescue from people who abandoned her. We made her life happy, she made our life better.
She will always live on in your memories.
I am so sorry for you and your family’s loss. No aphorism in the world is effective enough to convey my sympathy.
the hole they leave in our hearts is huge…so sorry
I’m going to hug my boy Max extra today for Riley. I’m terribly sorry for the loss of a dear family member. The world is a little less bright without her.
I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s been over a year for me since we lost two of our own, and I’ve never been the same. May you find peace.