Too Sad to Write
There is no way to categorize grief.
I haven’t posted in a few days because I felt like I could not. Even as I write this, I feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes, getting ready to course down my face.
The tiny 6-week-old Caucasian Ovcharka puppy we raised into a 175-pound old man is dead at 7 and a half years old.
I was nowhere near prepared. I knew that this giant breed had a shorter life expectancy than most dogs. But my King Solomon? Never.
Solomon was huge and healthy, well-behaved and playful. He was the largest, gentlest dog we have ever known and fathered all of our litters of puppies.
He died of kidney failure. He just laid down near the gate to come in and never got up. My husband put on his snowsuit and spent all night with Solomon because he did not want the dog to die alone.
In the morning, Solomon was still hanging on. We loaded him into the bed of our truck and went to the vet to wait for them to open. I got into the back with Solomon and even though his eyes were jaundiced over, Sol recognized me and gave a weak wag while I patted him and told him how much I loved him.
We had many adventures together. He went to Costa Rica with us. He loved to swim the waves. He had fun digging for sand crabs on the beach. He even liked Walmart.
At home, Solomon loved to be vacuumed. He would lay in the kitchen doorway and let you vacuum right over him. He loved to play footsies. He would not let you pass in the hall unless you played a footsie or two.
Solomon did not care for escalators or planes. He abhorred the oilman and the UPS guy.
I never saw my big dog again. Blood tests confirmed the condition we already knew. The vet euthanized him. He went peacefully, quietly and lovingly. We took him to the crematory.
We have all heard catchphrases like “beside themselves with grief,” “could not stop sobbing,” “cried themselves to sleep,” and “inconsolable.” I have always considered these euphemisms somewhat over the top and maudlin.
The truth is, there is no way to categorize grief. The experience is different for everyone.
No, I do not want a puppy. No, I did not write this post to coax condolences.
I wrote this to see if it was even possible to do it. Monday we go to the crematory. Then we will spread his ashes.
