All Dogs Go to Heaven When They Die – As Well as the Occasional Cat
Author’s Note: The following topic is not what I intended to write about in this week’s For Your Consideration. However, something happened recently that derailed my writing and upset my life; I lost a wonderful dog.
“He spoke with tears of fifteen years
How his dog and him, they traveled about
His dog up and died; he up and died
After twenty years, he still grieves.*
Mr. Bojangles was just a sentimental, albeit popular, song, but my canine traveling partner for fifteen years did just that: Daisy up and died recently. And all that’s left in the wake of her death is grief. There is no getting around this emotional response to the death of a loved pet, be it a cat, dog, bunny or even a hamster.
Be aware in dealing with your loss that people without pets sometimes cannot understand your profound affection for your animal companion and may not support your grief.
I once had a demonstrably callous friend who, when told by another friend that his dog had gotten loose and was hit by a car in full view of his family, said, “Hey, it’s just a dog, man.” It goes without saying that he quickly became a former friend to both of us.
Not everyone likes or appreciates a dog. And even those who do have a dog may not be old enough to remember when it was rare for families to allow their dogs in the house. Nowadays, most dog owners not only allow their dogs in the house, but the dogs also have the run of the house, including sleeping in their owner’s bed.
For many of us, our furry companions are full-fledged members of our family. As such, their demise can cause comparable grief. After the initial shock of their passing, the grieving process begins, and we need to embrace it, for we cannot run away from grief; we must indulge it to find our path out of darkness and reach that magical point when we remember the good times we have enjoyed with them.
I fully admit to reacting emotionally when I think of Daisy, when I see her picture on the wall, when I find one of her toys under the bed, and when I pack up her things and take them to the shed. This is a way of confronting her death, knowing full well it will take time for the tears to become a smile.
You are probably familiar with the five stages of grief as defined by Elizabeth Kubler Ross in the following order: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.
These five stages may apply to a human who is about to die, such as when one receives a diagnosis of a terminal disease, but it is unlikely that all five stages apply in the case of pet loss, as they may if it were a human.
Bargaining, for example, is when we attempt to make a deal with God, promising to give up our bad habits or transgressions in exchange for a bit more time. Additionally, you are unlikely to feel anger at your loss. Most of Ross’s grief stages would not apply to someone grieving the loss of a beloved pet. Likewise, we do not all suffer grief in the same order as Ross suggests; it is very individualized.
Dogs were first domesticated from wolves some 40,000 years ago, before the age of agriculture – they’ve been by our side for millennia. It is natural for the bond between humans and dogs to strengthen throughout a long-term relationship.
Archaeologists have unearthed 14,000-year-old burial sites in which dogs were buried right alongside humans. In some of these burials, the dogs were buried with grave items, such as jewelry and carvings, suggesting that the humans had a close relationship with the dogs.
The word “pet” comes from a 16th-century Scottish Gaelic word, “peata,” meaning a tame animal. This hardly describes the depth of our relationship with our companions, particularly dogs and cats.
A friend once told me that when you buy a dog, you are purchasing a future broken heart; I agree. And if you have lived a life where a dog was always a prominent presence, you have undoubtedly suffered many heart-aches over the years.
Consider the difference in the lifespans of humans and dogs. The average lifespan globally of a human is 72 years, whereas that of a dog is 10 to 13 years. (If this is a problem for you, consider getting a Greenland Shark; they can live up to 400 years) You’re not likely to go that route, so we must be prepared to pour our love into a fellow mammal, knowing full well that we will likely outlive it. This makes our love for our animal companions even more special.
There is a particularly poignant scene in the 2019 “After Life” series starring Ricky Gervais. His character, Tony, has lost his wife to cancer and gets a German Shepherd named Brandy, whom he adores. In the final scene of season three, he and his dog are walking across a broad open space, and as they progress, his dog disappears, followed shortly thereafter by Tony disappearing, leaving the green empty.
Ultimate death is the one experience that we share with all living things on Earth.
We’ve been discussing how much we love our animals, but do they love us in return? Well, the jury is no longer out on this, as numerous sophisticated scientific experiments over the last decade have conclusively demonstrated that dogs, in particular, form strong emotional bonds with humans. Of course, the expression of that love may vary between homo sapiens and canines.
How we touch and communicate with our dogs conveys a lot about our feelings for them. They, on the other hand, show their affection through body language, including licking, tail wagging, nudging, and some- times gift-giving. So, the next time Fido leaves the mangled corpse of a squirrel on your welcome mat, act excited and grateful.
My surviving dog doesn’t carry his heart on his sleeve; his heart is on his tongue. Following a good hike or a special meal, I get a good bit of licking, so I keep a box of wet wipes close at hand.
To those who still maintain that dogs are masters of manipulation and don’t have the capacity for love, I say balderdash. If you cannot see this in your dog, you are not paying attention.
Over and over, dogs have demonstrated their concern for their humans; many times, dogs have saved their owner’s life at their own risk. Others participating in scientific experiments will choose to be with their owner over an offer of their favorite treat. Call it what you will; dogs, if treated well, will return our love in full measure.
Approximately ten years ago, there was a fellow who walked the Greenbrier River Trail with his little white dog every evening. One day, I saw him pushing his dog in a red stroller. It turned out the dog had cancer and could no longer walk beside his owner. He would stop often and feed the little dog raspberries that grow along the trail.
After his beloved dog died, he wrote a poem, which he generously shared with me. I will leave you with his poem about the pain of grief.
The Red Stroller
Her red stroller now sits empty
but for a single dry raspberry on its seat
One that fell from her mouth sometime in early July
Would that she had gotten better
and could still walk the path on her own
A painful indulgence of wishful thinking
The red stroller now sits untouched
except for the spider web strung across the handlebars
At some unknown time in the future
it will find its way to a yard sale
or perhaps an ad in the newspaper
The new owner never knowing
the great love and great loss it once bore
Her beautiful presence is almost gone now
like the slow, slow leak
in the nearly flat tires.
* “Mr. Bojangles.” Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, 1970 Lyrics by Jerry Jeff Walker
A special thanks to Dr. Tawney and her staff, Robin and Sydnee, for their compassion and concern when Daisy left this world headed for the Rainbow Bridge.