shouldazagged
Absent Comrade
Every time I think this is going away , somebody posts again . REM 2000 , I could't have said it any better . Every time I lose one , it seems like a little piece of me goes away too . I am not one of those that say " I'm not ready yet." I have one in a very short period . I have a wife and daughter that mean the world to me , but there's something about a dog to share your life with , and nothing else fills that void for me .
My final dog--I'm no longer physically able to care for one properly--was a little middle-aged rat terrier rescue I named Moose. He had been abandoned and left alone for two weeks before he adopted me. He lived with me for seven years.
When the wheels came off my health two years ago, he was miserable and frightened every time I had to be hospitalized and others had to care for him. He was baffled, scared and angry that he didn't have his happy life anymore. His confusion and unhappiness broke my heart.
Finally I had to send him to live with a woman friend who loved him dearly and was raising a little grandson for him to play with. He settled in well, after a little time to adjust.
I grieved hard for having to give him up. I grieved more recently, when I learned that the Mighty Moose had died peacefully in his sleep, of old age. Now I have a cat I love and who will almost certainly outlive me. But Moose left a huge, aching hole in my life, and I'm choked up badly as I write this.
Part of the grief comes from knowing that there can never be another dog to give me his heart and his devotion. I will always be partly incomplete for whatever time I have left.
Now there are tears. Moose was worth it.
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