We always had dogs growing up. Three in total. Our first dog, King, is what they would call a mutt and was quite vicious. I recall my first bite out of many from King was when I was a toddler. After King died, there was Duke.
Duke was a German Shepherd and he was, unlike King, an outside dog. He lived in a pen in our backyard and I spent a lot of time in there with him. Although he was living in less square footage than our home, he somehow seemed to have three things…..peace, solitude and freedom.
Duke was my companion during my tween and teen years. I would lay on the ground with him and we somehow never needed words to be understood. One day, while hanging out with my free as a bird, dog, I noticed he had a rough area on his back leg and when I touched it, Duke would wince in pain.
“Something is wrong with Duke!” I desperately shouted to anyone who would listen.
Yes, something was wrong with Duke. He had cancer and it was spreading rapidly. Shortly after, in less than a week, the vet came to our home and administered the shot which would take away his pain and life forever.
I cuddled up next to him for the last time. This time, our eyes locked into each other until his eyes glazed over, leaving behind a furry shell, sans spirit. Those big, sweet and strong brown eyes will be with me forever.
What did we do? We replaced the loss, and in came Max, another German Shepherd who I did grow a fondness of. However, Duke can and never will be replaced. He had the grass as his couch and birds for his company. He was a lone wolf. I understood him. We understood each other. As I write this, my eyes tear up. So….um…yeah….pet loss IS a real loss.
