I can’t help but writing to you about this post. I am with you about losing a pet. It is sooooooo difficult, that every time it has happened, I always said I would never get another dog just because of the grief, but something would always weaken me to the point of getting another dog.
I just loved when you said “Stupid dog died in ‘95 and she still makes me cry”. I just loved the contrast of your sentence. Most dogs I have ever had were not all that smart either, but so loving with a personality of their own, which made them all special. I have a 13 yr.old yorkie.I’ve had her since she was 6 weeks old. I know that time is coming and I hate it. This will be my last dog, as I can’t, myself physically take on another dog. Sorry if I’ve been rambling, but couldn’t help it.
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Tiapam, how well do I understand. We had a lot of dogs as we were raising our boys and seems it was sad but easier to get over back then. Maybe the kids kept us so busy, etc. But after the boys left home, hubby and I had 2 shelties (one at a time.) We grieved a lot when the first one died...it was so hard, BUT I’m telling you when that last one died, it broke us into. We cried for quite a while after that. The first day, we both cried out loud, it was such awful pain! After that, our crying was quiet and off and on for days.
Of course I’ve lost my husband since then and everyone thought I should get another sheltie. I just couldn’t. I told everyone I just couldn’t stand anymore pain of losing a pet (and especially since my hubby is gone.) I just think I’m better off at the moment without a pet. There may come a time that I will change my mind but so far I haven’t.
Gypsy, my Dalmation, was one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever had. We were so close. I got her from some friends of mine when she was 8 weeks old, drove home three hours with her in my lap the whole way. Stupid is just my way of being angry that she died, I guess. :) Stupid me for getting so attached. Had her about 10 years. She was great with the kids, just an all around good dog.
My whole crowd laughs at me—in a nice way—b/c I refuse to watch any movie in which the dog dies. That’s my main criteria for a movie—Does the dog die?
Daughter asked me one time if I wanted to watch movies with her—she was about 11 or so. I asked, “What?” She named Old Yeller, Where the Red Fern Grows, Shiloh. I replied no to each, stating my mantra—the dog dies.
She finally, hands on hips, said “How about All Dogs Go To Heaven?”
I just looked at her and rolled my eyes. “How do you think they get there?!”
Needless to say, we found something else to do!