Carlos Schaye died a few months back, and I’m still crying at night when his image comes to mind. A cocker spaniel with a few emotional problems and aggression regarding his food, he disliked other male dogs who still had their gonads.
Carlos never wavered when it came to loving me. He moved in with me when he was ten weeks old, moved to three different houses with me, and traveled to Pyramid Lake in the motor home for fifteen summers, digging ditches under the RV to sleep in the shade after prancing around the lake to cool off.
My bed-linen was always unpleasant because Carlos found my bed more enjoyable than the three dog beds I got for him.
At home, the ten-dollar chair I bought at Goodwill for morning coffee became an issue of contention between Carlos and me when he recognized that the chair was a good spot when he wasn’t on the bed.
If I left a room, Carlos did as well. Wherever I was, Carlos wanted to be.
He developed many medical issues, and a veterinarian friend remarked, “He’s a cocker spaniel,” as an explanation.
Recently, I noticed friends posting photos of dogs long since deceased and dogs recently deceased, expressing their absolute agony over the loss of their dog.
I understand their unrelenting pain.
Scar tissue forms in my heart whenever a dog of mine dies. Regardless of the comforting words that they were lucky and had good lives, I want my friend back. Of course, he had a good life. Why would anyone who loves a dog not find that relationship precious?
I found comfort in a book, “Dog Sense,” and I’ve included a link to explore should you like.
Keep in mind that professionals in the psychiatric community use treatment toward small animals (dogs) for differential diagnosis for psychopaths; your love of your canine friend and your agony over their loss speaks volumes to your good heart.
As a young girl, I found comfort in my relationships with dogs. I think at that time, I believed I’d be protected from the abuse I had suffered if only I might have a dog. It wasn’t until I was an adult on my own that I could establish relationships with dogs, which continues until this day. My hyper-religious Grandfather thought I was “Crazy” because I found dogs so appealing. He hadn’t noticed how frightening the world was for me yet a dog by my side made my dopamine levels rise and my fear reduced.
Studies have shown that endorphins and Pitocin rise when we interact with our dogs.
As it does for them.
This dog thing is a big deal; it’s essential and a relationship we are lucky to have.
The agony is they don’t live as long as we do. They abandon us when we still need them. Although Carlos was elderly and ill, I didn’t want to let him go. Holding him to human standards, which wasn’t fair, I still needed him.
The human-canine bond goes back 15,000 years.
More recent studies suggest humans may have first domesticated dogs some 6,400-14,000 years ago when an initial wolf population split into East and West Eurasian wolves, which were domesticated independently of each other and gave birth to 2 distinct dog populations before going extinct.
Ancestors of the modern dog enjoyed plenty of benefits from living around humans, including improved safety, a steady supply of food, and more chances to breed. Humans, with their upright gait and better color vision, also helped in spotting predators and prey over a larger range. (2)
It has been hypothesized that humans in the early Holocene era, around 10,000 years ago, would have chosen wolf puppies for behaviors like tameness and friendliness towards people.
These puppies became hunting companions, tracking and retrieving wounded game as their human packs settled in Europe and Asia during the last Ice Age. The dog’s heightened sense of smell greatly assisted in the hunt, too.
Aside from helping humans hunt, dogs would have proved useful around the camp by cleaning up leftover food and huddling with humans to provide warmth. Australian Aborigines may have even used expressions such as “three dog night,” which described a night so cold that three dogs would be needed to keep a person from freezing.
These early dogs were valued members of forager societies. They were considered superior to other types of dogs back then and were often given proper names and considered part of the family.
What to do? Do you not have a dog? That seems unacceptable to me. If I got another dog only to have them precede me in death, leaving me once again in misery.
When I had SARS 1, my hound doggy Manfred knew something was wrong. Usually indifferent and distant, a typical hound, he climbed into bed with me and remained there for 30 days until I was better. I struggled to walk him, sick and coughing, yet he climbed right back on the bed and slept by my side as I coughed and cried. No friend has ever been so kind to me as was Manfred when I was ill. When he died, I cried every day for over six months. I found no comfort in the cliches that he had a good life. As was the case with Carlos, I wanted him back. We never spoke the same language, so he couldn’t express his thoughts to me, but he was a great friend. As my mom used to say, “Actions speak louder than words.”
So since there is really no way to comfort someone whose dog has died except to reassure them that you understand their pain I’m adding a few sayings I found about dogs here just as a reminder that anyone who loves or loved a dog was on the right track.
Carol Schaye has had several short stories published by McFadden’s Women’s Group. Carol has written for two west coast newspapers and has worked extensively in television. A fan of Flannery O’Connor, Carol studied acting with Lee Strasberg and Austin Pendleton and writing with Salem Ludwig. She attended Marymount College majoring in theater.
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