A Dog’s Death—A Family’s Grief

Not The Same, I know

I know that there is a difference between the death of a child and the death of a dog, or any animal pet. I’m not oblivious to this important distinction. If you have lost a child or someone too soon, then grant me leeway please. I know the two are not the same, but I also know that they are not so different either. Read this and consider that, please.

Just a Dog?

He was just a dog. That’s all Jim was? Just a dog? There is no “just” when it comes to love. And like so many dogs, Jim was love personified.

Jim was a friend, a companion, a confidant, and especially, a comforter. “Like a child?” Child-like for sure. God-like too, for sure. Jim loved every person who came in his aura, without exception. Jim loved some more than he did others, that’s true, and that’s God-like too when you stop to think about it. I didn’t need Jim to love me the most, just being loved by Jim was a gift.

Get Real Marlin!

I know you think I’m being overly sentimental, and that Jim was “just” a dog like every other dog. And maybe that’s so, but then again, maybe you didn’t know Jim. Jim was Jesus with fur on. You think it offensive comparing a dog to Jesus? Blasphemous? Lamb, lion is okay, but dog, no? And not just any dog, but Jim, as near perfect as a dog gets.

Dog-dumb too, no doubt—“Buddy, what were you thinking? Oh Jim, what did you do?” Jim ran out of his leash and under a car.

I know, little guy, you weren’t thinking at all, you were chasing another dog. You didn’t see it coming. I’m thankful for that at least. You didn’t know what hit you. But God I’m so sorry you didn’t see it coming, that he didn’t see you coming. And he was sad too, and he made sure we knew he was sad. He didn’t just drive off. He stopped. He came back. Josh went to him a little later. They were mere neighbors on the same block, but now they are connected through the death of a dog—just a dog.

No “just” in Killing

Killing a living being is a sobering thing to do, even when you didn’t mean to. Killing a living being loved like Jim was loved, that’s a heavy weight to bear.

Jim was a little over four years old. Like me, Jim had 10-15 years of life ahead of him. Too soon. Too young. Dog or human we feel the same pain when they die too soon. We lost Maggie this year as well, our daughter’s family dog. That too was sad. But Maggie was older and not well. Her death didn’t have the same impact as Jim’s.

Again, I know that Jim is not a child, not human, and that in that comparative sense Jim was “just” a dog. I know that. I’ve lost both my parents and several friends along the way, and my tears over Jim are just as real and just as wet and just as bitter.

When Josh called to tell us, Sally immediately began to weep. I doubled over in visceral pain, crying out, “No, no, no, not Jim. Please, not Jim.” Was that a prayer? If so, then God did not answer as I would have wanted. Then, of course, God couldn’t answer that prayer even if God could.

It was Jim—dear, sweet Jim. “Not Jim! Please not Jim!” My cry was from the depths and maybe God hears these kinds of prayers more acutely. Maybe God feels this kind of pain more deeply too. I want to hope so anyway.

A Gift to Treasure

To love and be loved by a living being is a wondrous connection, one to hold onto even if only now in memory. But what a gift it is to be able to remember, to feel the pain of loss, and to know that this kind of love is possible. And we know it’s possible, because it was with us and in us through a little dog named Jim.

And we can look around us now and see that in and through any number of living beings, this love is with us. So many people came forward and offered us their sympathy and empathy. There are stories we’ve been told about the loss of pets and the validity of us feeling this kind of hurt over just a dog. So many have loved Josh, Nicoly, Mahalia and Luciana in so many gracious ways. And Sally and I are grateful.

We love you!