How does time slip past us so quickly? Where does it go?
Tomorrow, Lucas will have been gone for three weeks. How can that be? When he left us, our hearts were shattered. We wondered how we would ever put the pieces back together.
Finally, I realized: They will never be put back together, at least not in the same shape. We can reassemble all the little shattered pieces from the loss of that big, yellow dog, but the shape of our lives, the shape of our days will be forever different.
See, Lucas dictated most aspects of our day-to-day.
I know over the years many of you arrived here, became a part of this community, because you love a reactive dog. The comments, the discussion, and even the keywords that bring people here (“my dog bit someone” or “leash lunging” or “how to get my dog to like other dogs”) unite those of us who love a dog who reacts.
For close to nine years, we accommodated Lucas. We walked him at certain times of day to minimize the risk of encountering a loose dog. We walked him on certain routes to minimize corners and blindspots so that we wouldn’t be startled by another dog walker. We drove with the windows down because he got car sick. That includes numerous winter weather drives where it would snow into the car because if we put the windows up he’d start to pant and pace and get sick. We took him to controlled dog training classes and hiked spots with little traffic at off hours. He twice tried to bite a stranger in the park, so he never got to go off-leash or even on a long leash unless we had complete control over the situation–which, of course, you never really do.
And that’s what’s weird. That’s what’s reshaping our days. Last week, at prime school-lets-out time, when moms and kids and dogs and bikes and strollers and UPS trucks and mailmen were out in full force, we took Cooper and Emmett for a walk.
Yesterday, when it was frigid and pouring, I drove Cooper to doggy daycare with the windows up and no one barfed.
We took Emmett and Cooper for a hike, together, rather than worrying about shifts and who’s stuck at home and who’s getting shorted a turn and can we skip Emmett today because it took so long to get around the neighborhood with Lucas because we kept having to avoid dogs?
It makes me feel guilty and awful to say that part of this change, part of the adjustment to Lucas being gone is that many things have become… well… easier. And in a weird way, it’s the hardest part to get used to, to letting go of that constant vigilance.
Please don’t misinterpret. I would trade any of it, actually all of it, to have him back. I’d adjust my walk times and walk routes and install the gates in the new house so when the HVAC repair guy/UPS man/next door neighbor comes by I’d have a place to safely send Lucas. I’d walk him in the rain and on winding, stuttered routes to avoid other dogs. I’d do any of it. I’d do all of it to have him here and healthy and happy, bopping around on three legs.
But that can’t happen. And while I’m not used to the gap he’s left in our lives yet, part of it is because I can let my guard down. At least a little. And it feels weird. And I still miss him, and I bawled my eyes out when I got an email about his doggy daycare reservation this morning, but these are things I never could’ve predicted. I could never have imagined just how much the shape of our days would change and just how sad it makes me when the doorbell rings and no one goes ballistic.
We understand perfectly. stella rose
Thank you so much.
(((HUGS)))
Hugs back atcha, Kathy!
I know the many big and small adjustments we make for reactive dogs, how we re-shape our lives to accommodate them. It is a testament to how much we love them.
Thank you so much. You are the perfect role model for that, so thank you, thank you.
Do not feel guilty. When i read about the changes in your day currently, all i see is everything you did for Lucas while he was here. All the ‘adjustments’ you made, without ever giving it a second thought. You gave him everything, and in his absence, everything is different. It’s been seven months, and I am still getting used to food falling on the floor and not having to dive for it to avoid ER vet for allergic reaction and I recall breaking down into tears at the dog store when i realized I didn’t have to read every label, that I could shop for any treats I wanted. And just to make you laugh, someone knocked on the front door today (Melvin would have been at that door pre knock, flipping out) and Jake went running and barking…to the wrong door. Oh change…
Oh, Tracey. Of all people, you are my inspiration and guru in that regard. You are the most giving, loving, adjusting person I know. Your words mean so much. Thank you.
Also, Jake running and barking to the wrong door seriously made my day. That is so stinking cute and just plan sweet. Good boy, Jake! 🙂
It’s amazing how all of those small accommodations accumulate over time, bending you, twisting you into a different life – and you don’t even notice it’s happening until you can begin to unfurl and move back into a more comfortable, less vigilant, more relaxed life. I’m happily living with the contortions, and I know you would be too, given the choice. And, I’m happy that you can drive with the windows up, walk Coop and Emmett at the same time, and not jump through hoops when a repairman needs to come in the house. It’s another reminder of how much you loved that big, yellow dog – and that you’d have done anything for him. Hugs to you.
You are SO RIGHT. You don’t notice it. It just… happens… slowly, gradually, over a long period of time. You put that so perfectly. Thank you, Amy. Big hugs to you! I owe you a call, my friend!
You guys are so awesome. Hugs to your family!!
YOU are so awesome! Hugs to you! And scritches to that very full house of yours… welcome to the new fosters! 🙂 (I’ve been reading but falling woefully behind on commenting…)
We do so much for love. And as much as we give them they give us back so much more. I am sending prayers your way for peace.
Thank you so, so much, Julie. You’re so right. We do it all for love!
Oh, Maggie, I know exactly how you are feeling. When our elderly cat Conrad died, how could I not be relieved at no longer having to daily clean up his accidents, or carry him to the litter box and hope he would use it? Yet at the same time I felt guilty about the relief, and missed the extra work all at the same time.
And now we are making accommodations for Luke and his reactivity, and at the same time that I’m challenged and often frustrated by it, I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
I think the challenging dogs, like your Lucas, hold the dearest places in our hearts.
Oh, Jan. Thank you so much for sharing your stories. That helps so much. You’re so right… challenges fill up such an important part of our hearts. I wonder if that’s why the challenges are put in our paths… there’s a lesson there. <3
I understand. I really do.
Thank you, friend. I know you do. (Dinner soon??)
Oh, Maggie, I understand so well! Our lives without Callie will never be the same again, either.
Ducky is being nice to Shadow most of the time now, sometimes even giving her sweet little kisses. Three months ago she was being a bratty little sister, always trying to steal Callie’s attention for herself. And I’d gladly put up with Ducky’s bratitude toward Shadow if it could bring back my canine soulmate. And I think Shadow would too.
The hardest part for me was watching Shadow go through her own depression. As much as it hurt me, I know my poor Shadow was hurting ten times as much. Helping her adjust helped me adjust too.
We will always miss our Callie; and I will always have tearful moments, but her sweet spirit is always with us. And that is what helps me get from one day to the next. That, and spending every minute I can with Shadow and Ducky.
I’m so in awe and so touched at all you’ve done for Shadow (and for yourself). I’m constantly amazed at how much we can learn from these little furballs, from their love and openness and innocence. Thank you for sharing your experience so whole-heartedly.
When I lost my NSDTL, Mango, in 2014, I realized that I could not simply move on. Instead, I learned to get on. Still. But I do see him in my dreams, on occasion.
Get on. I love that. Thank you for sharing.
Lucas was so very lucky to have you.
That’s so nice. Thank you. I feel so much that we were so lucky to have HIM! 🙂
This story broke my heart. As a dog mom of reactive dogs and a lifelong adopter of the ‘problem’ dog, there’s always that hole in your heart that can’t be repaired, as you’ve just gone through so much together.
Hugs.
Yes! Liz, that’s exactly it. Going through so much together creates a different type of relationship, a completely unique bond. Thank you for putting those words to it.
Special needs pets are like that I think. There are constant daily reminders of their absence from lives when they are gone. Ours was the daily Insulin injections and making sure we were ALWAYS home at 7 am and 7 pm. You have said it perfectly!
I am so sorry for your loss. I lost one of my best friends last year and I am still grieving. It’s truly a terrible experience and something that takes a long time to recover from. We wish you the very best!
Oh, my friend… sending you even more hugs. I can totally relate – when Bella was ill, our days basically revolved (for quite some time) around dealing with her kidney issues. It was so weird and jarring when that all suddenly changed. <3
Beautiful post. Thinking of you.