A DOG EXPERIENCES DEATH

 

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Our little Queenie, a precious beige and white Shih Tzu, has been gone almost a year and a half now. She was approaching 17, was displaying symptoms of dementia, and it was “just time.”

I guess all owners of the canine variety wish their pooches would leave this old world without the necessity of visiting the local vet to help them along. However, thus far only one of our five, going back over 65 years, have discovered a way to die the way the people do. We just aren’t prone to watch an animal decline, deteriorate, suffer and die when there are measures available to help them cross the Rainbow Bridge more expeditiously than all that.

We had taken a circular box of some sort with us, an old hat box, which had a nice sturdy lid. After the deed was done, I laid our precious creature in it, put a rose and dog biscuit next to our little Queenie, paid the bill, walked out the door, set the box on the floor on the passenger side of the car, and drove home.

After we arrived home, I brought the makeshift doggie casket into our house, and set it down on the floor of the living room. Toby, our black & white Papillon, was Queenie’s housemate, and although they mostly seemed aloof and tended to ignore each other, I decided to help him understand that a member of our family had “left the building.”

As soon as I set the box on the floor, Toby walked up to it. Now I pulled the lid off, and rearranged Queenie a bit, as the box wasn’t quite as large as I might have wished. And now Toby laid his head on the side of Queenie’s final resting place, and seemed a bit perplexed about her lack of movement. Suddenly, it seemed to “hit him.” She was gone and wasn’t coming back. It was almost as if Toby was paying his last respects, as he lingered there awhile before finally pitter pattering away.

I buried our lovely little critter under an oak tree in our back yard, where she will reside with our four other precious pooches for a million million years; at least her mortal remains. (For you see, I am convinced I will see Queenie and my other little friends again one day).

Over the next couple of weeks Toby’s entire demeanor changed. He was obviously in mourning. He slept a great deal, and his eyes were just blank. He had loved his little friend, as much as we did, and he realized she wasn’t coming back.

My wife and I have made a habit of referring to our dearly departed pooch as Miss Q. since when we say her given name in Toby's presence his eyes still well up with tears.

It only seemed right for me to expose our living pooch to our dearly departed one that day, since I could have never tolerated the notion that Toby might live out the remainder of his days not knowing what had become of Queenie.

I believe I made the right decision.

by William McDonald, PhD