{"id":2707,"date":"2013-11-19T22:17:57","date_gmt":"2013-11-20T03:17:57","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=2707"},"modified":"2013-11-19T22:17:57","modified_gmt":"2013-11-20T03:17:57","slug":"farewell-beloved-dog","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/farewell-beloved-dog\/","title":{"rendered":"Gracie, 8\/20\/00 – 11\/18\/13"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"IMG_0154\"E<\/span>veryone we know who’s ever loved and lost a dog told us the same thing: that she would let us know when it was time to say good-bye. And of course, she did.<\/p>\n

Yesterday morning we let Gracie go, with sad hearts but also certain that it was her day to leave us.<\/p>\n

Since she was diagnosed with cancer just a month ago, on Oct. 17, Gracie rose to the challenge of treatment just the way she did everything else in her life: willingly, without fuss or fanfare, and with complete trust in her humans to do what was best for her. We took a big swing at it, with three rounds of chemo, and were amazed and thrilled as she gained back weight and strength and her zest for life.<\/p>\n

A week ago, she was like her old self — up at dawn, taking long morning walks, playing in the leaves, chasing balls and sticks. (Steve took this photo \u00a0last weekend, as Gracie eagerly did her part during fall clean-up at my parents’ house.)<\/p>\n

There were no bad days. These past few weeks have been about massages and Reiki and hand-feeding, lots of special, home-cooked food, visits with all her friends, treats and walks and togetherness. We had the great gift of getting her back for a little while, knowing as well that things could turn at any moment. When they did, we took our cues from her.<\/p>\n

Yesterday morning Steve and Debbie and I had breakfast together, while Gracie dozed on her bed beside us in the sunshine. After a long, difficult night, she was breathing peacefully. She was “present” and, at the same time, so clearly ready to go. We played the Brandenburg concertos on the stereo (the Saturday-morning pancake music of her puppyhood), loved her and kissed her and held her. I told her the story of her life, all thirteen wonderful years of it, and read her poems from Mary Oliver’s “Dog Songs.”<\/strong><\/a> She had a lovely, pain-free morning, which felt like another gift. And then one last ride in the car, to the vet who has been so kind and helpful through this journey.<\/p>\n

G<\/span>racie passed at 11:25, with her sweet head in my hands and Debbie holding her body. She leaves a great hole in all our lives. I know we will find tennis balls on every walk we take in the woods for years. And we will miss her, and remember her, always, the companion of our lives.<\/p>\n

Tonight, sitting here in a quiet house without her in it, I am sad and raw and lonely. Every spot here speaks her name. Each time I think I’m done with crying, the tears flow again. I want her back. It is as simple, and as impossible, as that.<\/p>\n

Instead I turn yet again to Mary Oliver<\/strong><\/a>, who knows as much as anyone about loving and letting go of dogs:<\/p>\n

“And it is exceedingly short, this galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old–or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.”<\/em><\/p>\n

I think, when I wrote this passage in Magical Journey<\/strong><\/a>, I was attempting to prepare myself for the inevitable. \u00a0Of course, I thought I was<\/em> prepared. \u00a0Only to find I wasn’t prepared at all. \u00a0At any rate, this excerpt does serve as a eulogy of sorts, a portrait of Gracie as she was, \u00a0and so it seems worth sharing \u00a0here.<\/p>\n

\n

from Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Gracie was a puppy when our sons were little boys. The three of them came of age together, amid baseballs sailing through the backyard, tennis balls and Frisbees and badminton birdies in flight. If it could be tossed or caught or hit or chewed, Gracie was there, hunkered down, all sharp ears and eyes and attention as she awaited her moment to leap, her mouth parted just slightly in what we all were certain was a smile of anticipation. From the moment we brought her home as a squirmy two-month-old black and white ball of fur, until first one and then the other son aged out of Little League, she never missed a single game, could be counted on to sit fully engrossed\u2014if pained to be excluded from the action\u2014on the sidelines, jaws snapping shut every time a ball slapped into a glove. On a couple of memorable occasions, she managed to give her collar the slip and take off in a blur of pure border collie velocity, straight out to her customary spot in the outfield, where she\u2019d spin around and crouch into position, ready to make a catch. Games were stopped in order to return Gracie to the bench, but no one ever really minded; she was a vision of athleticism and exuberance. In our own backyard, she was always a starter, an essential part of every team; she knew just how to get herself under the arc of a ball, how to receive it in her teeth and relinquish it with grace to the pitcher. The rules were modified to accommodate her lack of an arm, but not much. Gracie was a serious player; she commanded respect.<\/p>\n

Now I see how both Steve and I have come to depend on her to mitigate the silence, to fill the emptiness left in the wake of two absent boys. When our sons were little, Steve was greeted as he walked through the door each night by cries of \u201cDaddeeee\u2019s home!\u201d and entreaties for a game of catch in the yard. The balls and gloves would be located, the most urgent news of the day hastily dispensed with, and out they would go. I\u2019m not sure who looked forward to this daily play time more, my husband or his boys, but it was just one of many small rituals that made family life rhythmic, predictable, and good. And Gracie was an essential ingredient in that mix, too.<\/p>\n

Thinking of those days now, I see that our dog has simply carried on what our sons, growing up as sons do, could not. Having lived through and absorbed their childhoods into her being, she sees it as her job to continue traditions they outgrew long ago. It\u2019s been years, of course, since our sons came running to meet their dad at the door, but Gracie still does it, still dances at his feet and begs for a ball game before he\u2019s even had time to put down his bag or change his shoes. And Steve, as ever, is happy to oblige. It is good to be loved, to be welcomed, to be needed, whether by boy or dog.<\/p>\n

But even this ritual is changing, for much as Gracie wants to do what she\u2019s always done, it\u2019s the idea and the memory of that sacred routine she holds on to now and acts out with unflagging enthusiasm every evening. At eleven she\u2019s too old to chase down an endless stream of balls as she used to do. But still, she and Steve go through the motions. He bends down to greet his girl; she urges him outside; he tosses the ball high and she snags it, expertly and on the fly, as she has done thousands of times before. But once is enough now, maybe twice on a good day\u2014though God forbid they should ever pass on the game altogether.<\/p>\n

And suddenly I think I understand why Jack has been campaigning for a puppy, looking at border collies online, and insisting that we need to give Gracie time to train her successor\u2014impossible as it is for any of us to imagine life without her. For Gracie is the bridge between what\u2019s over and what is unfolding now. She, unlike the two aging humans in the household, has moved without regret into this new chapter, rejoicing in every \u00a0homecoming and stoically accepting the inevitable farewell nose kisses. When Henry\u2019s home, she sleeps in his room and keeps an eye on his suitcase, attuned to the moment when there are more clothes going back into it than coming out. When Jack is here, she will still give everything she has to give in order to play defense under the basketball hoop. He picks up the ball and she\u2019s suddenly two again, every bounce an excitement requiring a move, a quick response, even though the price is high: he will have to carry her up the stairs at night.<\/p>\n

When her boys are gone, when it\u2019s just the two of us here, she acquiesces to less thrilling entertainments\u2014early morning walks with me and Steve, brief pursuits of the wild turkeys in the yard, digging a hole under the rhododendron. Imprinted for life with the beauty of balls and boys, she hasn\u2019t relinquished her passion for either. But like us, she\u2019s adjusting to this new life even as she carries all our yesterdays within her and upholds our family ways, embodying for each of us the beauty of continuity and the illusion of permanence.<\/p>\n

Joy and love: the contents of a dog\u2019s heart. No wonder, upon seeing Gracie, our fully grown sons drop to the floor, face-to-face and nose to nose, and eagerly become their younger, sweeter, sillier selves. And no wonder my husband and I catch ourselves talking to her as if she were a child herself, as if in carrying on the traditions born in our sons\u2019 childhood years, she is also allowing us to play our old parenting roles for just a little longer. Our sons may be grown and gone, but Gracie, loyal companion of their boyhoods, is still here. Still here and, though decades older than all of us in dog years, still exuberantly herself, reminding us that to live well is to honor both the beauty of routine and the enchantment of the moment that is right now. I\u2019m beginning to think Jack is right: she is a good teacher.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Enter to win Mary Oliver’s new book<\/span><\/h3>\n

I’m certain anyone who shares their life with a dog will love Mary Oliver’s<\/strong> new book Dog Songs<\/strong><\/a> as much as I do. \u00a0A gift from a dear friend, it’s been the one book I’ve returned to over and over lately, finding both solace and kinship in its pages, not to mention a much-needed reminder to simply be grateful for all that is in this beautiful world, even as I mourn what has come to an end. \u00a0In honor of Gracie, I’ve bought another copy of Dog Songs<\/a> to share here.<\/strong><\/p>\n

To enter to win, you must be<\/em>\u00a0subscribed to my blog<\/em> (you can subscribe now, if you haven’t already), and then simply leave a thought or two about dogs in the comments below.<\/strong> \u00a0I will select a winner at random, using random.org, on November 30<\/strong>. \u00a0To those who have already written notes of support and concern during our journey with Gracie, know how grateful I am. \u00a0Your words have meant much. \u00a0Thank you.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Everyone we know who’s ever loved and lost a dog told us the same thing: that she would let us know when it was time to say good-bye. And of course, she did. Yesterday morning we let Gracie go, with sad hearts but also certain that it was her day to leave us. Since she […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[31,32,33,37,14],"tags":[151,196,201,275,285],"class_list":{"0":"post-2707","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-grief","8":"category-healing","9":"category-impermanence-soul-work","10":"category-magical-journey","11":"category-soul-work","12":"tag-dogs","13":"tag-gracie","14":"tag-grief-2","15":"tag-magical-journey","16":"tag-mary-oliver","17":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2707","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2707"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2707\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2707"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2707"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2707"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}