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Recently, my wife and I went through one of the more excruciating experiences of our lives - the euthanasia of our beloved dog, Murphy. I remember making eye contact with Murphy moments before she took her last breath - she flashed me a look that was an endearing blend of confusion and the reassurance that everyone was ok because we were both by her side.
When people who have never had a dog see their dog-owning friends mourn the loss of a pet, they probably think it's all a bit of an overreaction; after all, it's "just a dog."
However, those who have loved a dog know the truth: Your own pet is never "just a dog."
Many times, I've had friends guiltily confide to me that they grieved more over the loss of a dog than over the loss of friends or relatives.
Research has confirmed that for most people, the loss of a dog is, in almost every way, comparable to the loss of a human loved one. Unfortunately, there's little in our cultural playbook - no grief rituals, no obituary in the local newspaper, no religious service - to help us get through the loss of a pet, which can make us feel more than a bit embarrassed to show too much public grief over our dead dogs.
Perhaps if people realized just how strong and intense the bond is between people and their dogs, such grief would become more widely accepted. This would greatly help dog owners to integrate the death into their lives and help them move forward.
An interspecies bond like no otherWhat is it about dogs, exactly, that make humans bond so closely with them?
For starters, dogs have had to adapt to living with humans over the past 10,000 years. And they've done it very well: They're the only animal to have evolved specifically to be our companions and friends. Anthropologist Brian Hare has developed the "Domestication Hypothesis" to explain how dogs morphed from their grey wolf ancestors into the socially skilled animals that we now interact with in very much the same way as we interact with other people.
Perhaps one reason our relationships with dogs can be even more satisfying than our human relationships is that dogs provide us with such unconditional, uncritical positive feedback. (
As the old saying goes, "May I become the kind of person that my dog thinks I already am.")
This is no accident. They have been selectively bred through generations to pay attention to people, and
MRI scans show that dog brains respond to praise from their owners just as strongly as they do to food (and for some dogs, praise is an even more effective incentive than food). Dogs recognize people and can learn to interpret human emotional states
from facial expression alone. Scientific studies also indicate that dogs can understand human intentions,
try to help their owners and
even avoid people who don't cooperate with their owners or treat them well.
Not surprisingly, humans respond positively to such unrequited affection, assistance and loyalty. Just looking at dogs
can make people smile.
Dog owners score higher on measures of well-being and they are happier, on average, than people who own cats or no pets at all.
Like a member of the familyOur strong attachment to dogs was subtly revealed in
a recent study of "misnaming." Misnaming happens when you call someone by the wrong name, like when parents mistakenly calls one of their kids by a sibling's name.
It turns out that the name of the family dog also gets confused with human family members, indicating that the dog's name is being pulled from the same cognitive pool that contains other members of the family. (Curiously, the same thing rarely happens with cat names.)
It's no wonder dog owners miss them so much when they're gone.
Psychologist Julie Axelrod has pointed out that the loss of a dog is so painful because owners aren't just losing the pet.
It could mean the loss of a source of unconditional love, a primary companion who provides security and comfort, and maybe even a protégé that's been mentored like a child.The loss of a dog can also seriously disrupt an owner's daily routine more profoundly than the loss of most friends and relatives. For owners, their daily schedules - even their vacation plans - can revolve around the needs of their pets. Changes in lifestyle and routine are
some of the primary sources of stress.
According to a recent survey, many bereaved pet owners will even mistakenly interpret ambiguous sights and sounds as the movements, pants and whimpers of the deceased pet. This is most likely to happen shortly after the death of the pet, especially among owners who had very high levels of attachment to their pets.
While the death of a dog is horrible, dog owners have become so accustomed to the reassuring and nonjudgmental presence of their canine companions that, more often than not, they'll eventually get a new one.
So yes, I miss my dog. But I'm sure that I'll be putting myself through this ordeal again in the years to come.
Reader Comments
A year after I lost my Jacky, we were required to put to sleep an older dog we had for 15 years, this dog had suffered incredibly thru out his life, by losing a hind leg in an auto accident at 12 months old. The loss of that leg caused major complications throughout his life, despite the Vet assuring us he wouldn't know the difference. The loss brought on a premature arthritis which rapidly got worse requiring constant medication and injections on a weekly basis and special diets.
When the difficulty became progressively worse and incontinence set it, we realized we'd need to make a decision. We accompanied him all the way and hugged him and held him close until his poor heart ceased beating and he was finally free of pain.
Though we shed many tears on his passing, we seemed to recover quickly. I think the difference is when you watch a dog slowly decline and you know there is no option left open, you try to make their remaining days as pain free as possible, but there's no avoiding the final decision and you do have some time to come to grips with that.
But to lose a pet unexpectedly, without being able to say goodbye and comfort them when they leave, that takes one hell of a time to get over. Makes it worse too, when you constantly ask yourself, " was it my fault, did I do everything I could to recognize something was wrong".
At the end of the day, I learned a lot from my relationship with my little dog, the most important was, if you love someone, or something, never be afraid to allow that love to be seen and recognized. Today, I couldn't give a toss, what people think of my love for my dogs, they mean the World to me and my wife.
Ol' Chuck was a horse, a half-Arab and half-Quarterhorse. A mare. She did just about everything a horse could do. She raised foals. Was a show horse, a trail horse, a work horse. She rode both English and Western, a tiny bit of dressage. She ran away with me once, in her younger days, when I was attempting to pony a young stud with her, that she didn't like. She probably weighed about 950 lbs, but she worked in harness with horses weighing 1500-1600 even 1700 lbs. She cultivated corn, planted corn, planted oats and wheat, mowed hay, raked hay, hauled hay, hauled firewood, hauled manure. Gave sleigh rides. She taught our three kids to ride. She gave hundreds of rides to hundreds of kids, for free. Posed for pictures with those kids again and again and again. She didn't do tricks though, unless she thought of them herself. And she thought up a few of them. But as an old horse, in her teens and twenties and early thirties, you could put a 3 yr. old kid on her back and not worry a bit. She knew.
We loved Ol' Chuck. She lived to be 33. She faked us out at 32 and pretended she was gonna die, but she got up again and started to eat once more (without many teeth left) after fooling us for a day or so and lived another whole year. Then one summer day she left home (she was no longer fenced like the other horses, she could go where she wanted to) wandered down the road, about a half-mile and layed herself down to rest. When I saw her leave, I went with her about half way, talking to her and petting her, and then I turned back for home, to leave her in special peace. I knew.
She is now buried at the top of our driveway, right where you come into our farm. Our oldest son placed a large flat stone over her, after I covered her up. She is buried with her old harness, the one she wore so many many times.
We loved Ol' Chuck.
OL' CHUCK, WE STILL DO.
ned, the small family farmer, out
I cried when she left.
I cried a lot.
ned,
out
R.I.P. Ol' Chuck.
I recently had to euthanize my cat of 22 years and it wrecked me. When I say recently, I means four days ago.
I have lost dogs before, naturally and artificially, and it hurt a lot but nothing would have prepared me for the loss of my cat.
Personally, I think a cat owner's relationship with their cat goes deeper that a relationship with a dog. Dogs are easy. They can communicate with humans much better than cats so it is easier to understand them.
A cat owner has to spend a lifetime learning to accommodate their cat. A cat's respect has to be earned, whereas a dog trusts its owner implicitly and unconditionally.
Don't get me wrong, I am a dog lover at heart. But we shouldn't belittle the profound relationship that can build between a cat and its caretaker.
To me, the relationship I enjoyed with my cat was hard earned and therefore a much more profound and meaningful trust was built.
With a dog there is clear master/subject delineation, with cats it is always a bit unclear who is the master and who is the subject.
I think it's a bit irrelevant if it would be a dog or a cat. Personally I am a "dog person", because I was raised in a house with dogs. My wife is both. She had one particular cat, which, like you, reached the admirable age of 22. Her cat died in her arms. Although it happened some time ago, she still tears up, when she talks about her cat. Her grief over the loss of her cat is as much (maybe more) as the grief I sometimes still feel over the loss of "my" dog.
Maybe it is also, because of not being able to relate to the grief of the other person, that dismissals of cat owner's level of grief is present.
Am I a nut? No. At least I don't believe I personally talk with God, as claimed by GWBush*t.
R.C.
What works for you works for me right?!
You'll get a kick out of the producer's first name :-)