Right now I am sitting on the sun porch at my family's ranch in Wyoming. It's a beautiful day that is filled with soft flakes of snow falling outside, a heater at my feet, the company of the man I love and a coziness that I haven't felt in years. Everything would be perfect except for a profound sense of loss and sadness that creeps into the edges of these moments. It's not overpowering and by no means dominates our time up here, at least not anymore. It is, however, a quiet reminder that life is an ever evolving current that you can never, ever predict and never, ever try to prevent from happening because no matter what it'll get the better of you.
The sadness is here because exactly two weeks ago tonight we lost my dear, sweet dog Charlie. It happened quickly: neighbors' gunshots late at night spooked him, after which he ran into the woods and eventually to the highway where he met his end. It came so suddenly and without warning, but I am very glad that we were able to find him and bury him up in the hills overlooking our property.
I've told most of the people who are close to me. They have provided many words of comfort that are immensely appreciated. The grieving process has been difficult and it still comes back full-force at times. Luckily Bret and I have found solace in each other. We are slowly recovering.
Charlie was a companion, a buddy, at times what I jokingly called a "surrogate baby," and one helluva trooper. He put up with so much uncertainty and change once he came into my life. In those 11 months that I had him he transformed from a sheltered and insecure sweetheart to become a real, bonafide dog who touched the lives of everyone he met. His jet black coat swiftly went gray within the first couple of months -- probably from the stress of being abandoned and from the countless new experiences we introduced him to. Bret and I would sometimes point to a new gray hair here and there and say, "That one's called Beth" and "There's Bret," and in a way I was worried how much he was seemingly aging. But there is a sweet irony to how much progress he made in the short time that I had him. Instead of aging, he was finally coming into his own. It was about time.
Charlie's presence and sudden departure from our lives has a particularly profound meaning to me. I like to think of it like he was born with a finite amount of love to share in this world and once he reached the tipping point, it was time for him to move on to the next stage of life. I, on the other hand, waited years and years to find the "perfect" dog. Once he met me, he finally had the outlet for all that love and I am sooo thankful that I got to share in most of it. To put it in another way, his (and my) cup overfloweth. There's no better feeling in the world than that.
Although he wasn't the supermodel companion that I envisioned one day adopting (you know how everyone is a reflection of their pets, right?), he turned out to be better than anything I could have imagined. I have never loved anything so hard in my life. I cannot imagine how things would have been if I hadn't been able to have him alongside me for this journey.
I hope that wherever and however he is reborn, he will continue to share his goodness, compassion, and love with everyone and everything who is worth sharing it. As far as his unlikely best furry friend is concerned, when it comes time for Katie to reunite with him at the great pearly backyard in the sky, she's promised me to greet him with a giant golden stick and finally let him have it without resistance (for once). I'm sure he'd appreciate that.
He is so profoundly loved and so sorely missed.
The sadness is here because exactly two weeks ago tonight we lost my dear, sweet dog Charlie. It happened quickly: neighbors' gunshots late at night spooked him, after which he ran into the woods and eventually to the highway where he met his end. It came so suddenly and without warning, but I am very glad that we were able to find him and bury him up in the hills overlooking our property.
I've told most of the people who are close to me. They have provided many words of comfort that are immensely appreciated. The grieving process has been difficult and it still comes back full-force at times. Luckily Bret and I have found solace in each other. We are slowly recovering.
Stoically contemplating life the last day we had him.
Charlie's presence and sudden departure from our lives has a particularly profound meaning to me. I like to think of it like he was born with a finite amount of love to share in this world and once he reached the tipping point, it was time for him to move on to the next stage of life. I, on the other hand, waited years and years to find the "perfect" dog. Once he met me, he finally had the outlet for all that love and I am sooo thankful that I got to share in most of it. To put it in another way, his (and my) cup overfloweth. There's no better feeling in the world than that.
Although he wasn't the supermodel companion that I envisioned one day adopting (you know how everyone is a reflection of their pets, right?), he turned out to be better than anything I could have imagined. I have never loved anything so hard in my life. I cannot imagine how things would have been if I hadn't been able to have him alongside me for this journey.
I hope that wherever and however he is reborn, he will continue to share his goodness, compassion, and love with everyone and everything who is worth sharing it. As far as his unlikely best furry friend is concerned, when it comes time for Katie to reunite with him at the great pearly backyard in the sky, she's promised me to greet him with a giant golden stick and finally let him have it without resistance (for once). I'm sure he'd appreciate that.
He is so profoundly loved and so sorely missed.
A beautiful resting place for a dear, sweet and beloved companion.
