“A really companionable and indispensable dog is an accident of nature. You can’t get it by breeding for it, and you can’t buy it with money. It just happens along.”
— from E.B. White on Dogs
I almost didn’t write about losing our beloved dog Gracie last week. My grief felt so raw, so private, and so painful. I wasn’t sure I could put it into words or share it in public. Our family was in mourning, tender and sad. My first impulse was to turn inward, to hunker down in my house and have a long cry.
On the other hand, for the last four years I’ve made a practice of writing here about both the joys and challenges of my life, reflections that are always personal but that also, I hope, touch something universal. I had written about our Gracie while she lived. It seemed only fitting to let you know she was gone.
Each day this week, I lit a candle in the midst of a makeshift Gracie altar in the middle of our kitchen. We have taken some solace in having lots of photos of her propped up along the shelf. Her empty collar is here. Her leash. Her tennis ball and ball flinger. A bit of her white tail hair, tied in a ribbon. It feels both good and sad to have these things, and to have a place to go when we wonder why she isn’t where she belongs, curled up in a tidy oval shape on the rug or sitting, alert, on her favorite rock in the back yard.
And each day this week I’ve also read your beautiful, wise, consoling comments — some of them several times and through tears. And so, on this Thanksgiving evening, I simply want to let you know how much your words have meant to me and to all of us who loved Gracie.
I am still a bit stunned by the depth of caring and compassion that can exist between people who may not know one another in person but who share a bond. Everyone who’s ever lost a cherished animal knew exactly how to reach out and exactly what I needed to hear. You understood, too, just how bleak and quiet life can feel. How empty a house can be and how long and lonely the nights are when there’s no one snoring softly at the foot of the bed or scratching at the door at dawn.
Reading your words over these past days, I’ve felt less alone. I’ve loved hearing about your lives and your special pets. With each story and condolence, you helped me remember there will surely be another dog for us to welcome into our lives and into our hearts, not to replace Gracie but to love in a different way. And you reminded me that the beloved dogs who bring such joy to our days also teach us much about letting go.
I wish I could write a personal letter back to each and every one of you who took the time this week to write me or to leave a comment. But I couldn’t have done that and also managed to teach my yoga classes, clean the house, get the laundry and grocery shopping done, and make Thanksgiving dinner for my family. So, instead, I will simply offer my heartfelt thanks here and hope that it’s enough.
This year, for the first time, the Thanksgiving baton was passed to me. After more than 50 years of hosting our family holiday dinner, my parents were ready to be guests instead of cooks. These are huge shoes for me to fill. Till today, I’d never cooked a turkey in my life (Steve and my brother, on grilling duty in separate households, began texting about times and temperatures at 7 am this morning). I’ve never coordinated a meal with so many required dishes, or used all the burners on my stove and every rack in my oven at once.
“Start tomorrow,” my mom advised me on Sunday night. And then she read me her recipe for stuffing. Henry arrived home on Monday afternoon and the two of us got busy. All week I kept meaning to sit down and write a blog post, but there was never a moment.
Now, the dishes are done, Steve has put his mom’s silver back in its wooden box, the left-overs are stacked in the refrigerator, and everyone’s gone home. It’s too late, and I’m too tired, to write any more tonight. But I’ve just read a beautiful essay about gratitude my friend Pamela posted this morning. I don’t even remember writing the lines she quotes from my blog from a year ago but they seem almost prescient now, certainly just right for today. This, I think, is why I write in the first place — to tell myself what I most need to hear and to remind myself of what I already know. Which is simply this: Life will always offer us our share of losses and challenges. But it also offers countless opportunities to pause and give thanks for all we have.
From my blog, November 20, 2012:
For gratitude, as we all know, is not a given but rather a way of being to be cultivated. It doesn’t come packaged like the Stouffer’s stuffing mix nor is it ensured by the name of the holiday. No, real “thanksgiving” requires us to pause long enough to feel the earth beneath our feet, to gaze up into the spaciousness of the sky above, and to stop and take a good, long, loving look at the precious faces sitting across from us at the dinner table.
Life can turn on a dime. Not one of us knows, ever, what fate has in store, or what challenges await just around the bend. But I do know this: nothing lasts. Life is an interplay of light and shadow, blessings and losses, moments to be endured and moments I would give anything to live again. I will never get them back, of course, can never re-do the moments I missed or the ones I still regret, any more than I can recapture the moments I desperately wanted to hold onto forever. I can only remind myself to stay awake, to pay attention, and to say my prayer of thanks for the only thing that really matters: this life, here, now.
Signed books for Christmas.
I’ll be joining 19 other local authors on Sunday afternoon, Dec. 1, from 2-4 at my local independent bookstore’s Holiday Fair. If you’re in the area, stop by the Peterborough Toadstool and say hello.
Happily, you don’t have to be my neighbor to get a signed, personalized, and gift-wrapped book for someone on your list. Just click here.
And of course I’m always honored to receive a request for signed bookplates. Click here. I will mail yours right off to you.
Thank you for this. Our family is facing the loss of our beloved 19 year old cat, Laika. Now I know how to honor her when she’s no longer with us. Peace and blessings to you and your family on this Thanksgiving night.
gracie! she must have been a wonderful dog. when you first lost her, i couldn’t reply because my heart, too, was breaking for our stubby, who crossed the rainbow bridge just a few months before. you said your emotions were raw and tender, and mine was too. my stubby looked so much like gracie, so proud, so sharp minded, so in tune with the world. oh my, how he loved to chase squirrels! when i would see one, i would shout, “aquirrel, stub” and he would be on it like member of a swat team. he never caught one though. sometimes, even now, when i see a squirrel, i shout, “squirrel, stub” just to hear it another time, and i do feel confident that he is with my loved ones in heaven, chasing those pesky critters down. writing about this now is cathartic. i will always love him! thank you for sharing about gracie. jan peterson
Each Thanksgiving I look around the table and treasure the fact that we are all together, wondering what the coming year will bring, if we will all be together next year. I am blessed far more than I deserve to be, and I find that even among the sadness and loss (of pets, people, friendships, health, whatever) that there are still many blessings to be thankful for. All I need to do to realize how lucky I am is to look around me and see what others have been dealt. Each day is a gift in and of itself, and I am grateful for the opportunity to make the most of it.
Blessings to you and yours, Katrina, and thanks for sharing your thoughts – another thing that I am grateful for.
I am very sad for you and the loss of your wonderful ‘family member’ … it is hard. Just remember some day, you just might wake up and know it is time to get someone new. Not to replace the old but to fill some very big shoes and be loved by a big heart ready to give and receive. I have a new ‘kitty’ now, not replacing my loved Smudge, but to bring joy where sadness rested and laughter where tears fell. You will know when and if you are ready to try it again.
Dear Katrina,
Thank you for the remembrances of Gracie, the photo of your table, and sharing your journey of grief. She’s as close as a thought and a memory— may yours give you increasing comfort in the days and weeks ahead.
When I think of gratitude and grace, I automatically think of you. I know no other author who, from “Mitten Strings to God” to your present book and blogs, reminds me to stop, pay attention and savor the ordinary — and to write.
Instead of being frustrated when my eldest daughter’s dog woke me up much too early this morning, I’m grateful I have her. Her only wish is to just BE with me. I’ll just work here in my office and enjoy the quiet—reading emails/clearing out stuff until I get sleepy enough to return to bed.
Thank you once more for letting us slip into your family life. As someone who has hosted decades of Thanksgivings, it was fun to hear about your ‘first turkey” yesterday. Our eldest, at 48, was cooking her first turkey for her husband’s extended family and lives too far for us to join them. How grateful I felt that she asked for my advice by text, email and phone. With a cancellation of some guests, our Thanksgiving dinner was the smallest ever — just four of us. I longed to have a table full of family as she, you, and so many others did. Yet, it was the smoothest holiday dinner—preparation and execution-wise—my husband and I have ever done. Maybe “small and intimate” was best for us this year, so I’ll stop and savor this, too.
Warm hugs,
Pam
Over the past twenty-five years, we have spent with my in-laws and my husband’s family. Last year I had a knee replacement and could not make it up the steps, so for the first time we celebrated at home, by ourselves. It turned out to be so much fun, we decided to continue the tradition again this year. Aside from a disagreement or two in the kitchen, the warmth of togetherness and the gratitude of sharing this special time was certainly felt by all. Wishing you and your family happiness, good health, peace and comfort in your grief, this holiday season.
Katrina, I so admire your courage to open up and share your grief. As we move through ours, we’ve welcomed little Teddy into our lives. Although I have moments when I’m suddenly overwhelmed by grief and tears that Meg isn’t here, I know this little girl was hand picked by her. Teddy looks like a golden border-collie and I’m going to need a few border collie training tips, as she’s already trying to herd us as we walk toward the house! Sending you much, much love, Kasey
I am sure your parents basked in their role as guest this Thanksgiving! I too have never hosted a Thanksgiving dinner, which my sister in law does flawlessly, year after year. I said yesterday that the day they don’t host is the day I order a pre cooked meal as I just can’t imagine the orchestration that goes into such a meal! That said, we could eat pizza and be together, and still be happy and grateful!
Blessings to you for all the wonderful words you have always shared but I can only imagine how hard it was to share the loss of your precious Gracie. We have lost two of our friends this year and understand some of your feelings, as I know no one can truly understand exactly another person’s sorrow.
Your words speaking of past days that we can never retrieve & should be thankful for, hit a special needed reminder for me. I’ve been feeling so sad lately thinking of all the things I should have done & helped me put it in perspective. Thank you so much for sharing your life with us cause we all feel better sometimes understanding how others handle situations and continue on through the years..
Happy holidays and prayers for you & your family for peace.
Thank you for sharing your story of Gracie. We lost our beloved cairn terrier Tess at the beginning of August, and not a day goes by that we don’t miss that little muffin. She also had cancer lymphosacoma. And while we did not want to let her go, she too let us know when it was time. She had many treat in between, bit ice cream cones were her fave. We were not going to get another dog, but I have found I just can’t live without one, so have started to look for a breeder.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is a sad and joyful ( when you think of all the memories of her) time. As well as a time of gratitude to have been blessed to have her in your life.
JUST A DOG
From time to time, people tell me, “lighten up, it’s just a dog,”
or “that’s a lot of money for just a dog.”
They don’t understand the distance travelled, the time spent,
or the costs involved for “just a dog.”
Some of my proudest moments have come about with “just a dog.”
Many hours have passed and my only company was “just a dog,”
but I did not once feel slighted.
Some of my saddest moments have been brought aobut by
“just a dog,” and in those days of darkness, the gentle touch
of “just a dog” gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.
If you, too, think it’s “just a dog,” then you probably understand
phrases like “just a friend,” “just a sunrise,” or “just a promise.”
“Just a dog” brings into my life the very essence of friendship,
trust, and pure unbridled joy.
“Just a dog” brings out the compassion and patience
that make me a better person.
Because of “just a dog” I will rise early, take long walks and look
longingly to the future.
So for me and folks like me, it’s not “just a dog”
but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future,
the fond memories of the past, and the pure joy of the moment.
“Just a dog” brings out what’s good in me and diverts my thoughts
away from myself and the worries of the day.
I hope that someday they can understand that its’ not “just a dog”
but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being
“just a man” or “just a woman.”
So the next time you hear the phrase “just a dog,”
just smile,
because they “just don’t understand.”
~Unknown Author~
Beautiful! Thank you! So sorry for your loss. A pet becomes a member of the family. My thoughts are with you and your family.
So sorry that your Gracie is gone. We have a four year old lab who is one of those other- worldly comforters. Always patient, always kinds. He even lets the cat bully him away from his full food dish while he sits and watches till she is done. I’ll be the first to admit complaining about walking him in the cold or rain. Thank you for this beautiful reminder that a great dog is a gift.
I have been saving your post on Gracie’s passing to read when I’m feeling a little stronger myself. We lost our beloved lab on October 10th. I am still so raw and sad, but am beginning to also feel gratitude for all we had together with him. With each passing holiday, it is another reminder of our loss and all we shared. thank you for your beautiful words. I am so truly sorry, a good dog’s life is never long enough.
So sorry to hear of your family’s loss. I am just catching up on my blog reading and I must have missed your post. Please know that my thoughts are with you at this very sad time…just remember that Gracie brought so much joy and now she brings joy with your memories of her.