BY MEN FOR MEN
Finding Space In Loss
by DRESSLER
Three Saturdays ago, I put my dog down. She was eleven years old and in near perfect health. She was my beloved friend. My wife and I brought her home from the Westside Animal Shelter on Hallowe’en 2001. She was three months old and had been found in a dumpster. She was a kind, loving, loyal, fun and intelligent animal. She was also a Pit Bull. As a puppy, she was scrappy and active at the dog park but soon her temperament began to turn and after consulting with dog trainers, we decided it best to forego the dog park in favor of a big backyard and so Daisy became more of a homebody. Despite our best efforts, Daisy got out of the house twice and got into some pretty bad dogfights.
In our neighborhood, she was approached by off-leash dogs who mistook her for friendly and almost got to her before I could pull her away. We muzzled her for a short while but every walk was becoming a crap shoot. This sense of foreboding worsened as she got older and with two warnings against us from Animal Control, I began to realize that this dog who faithfully cared for my wife when she was stricken with a debilitating illness, who was loving to every human with whom she came in contact and who even helped cure a dear friend of mine from her desperate childhood fear of dogs, who sat with me most mornings as I got dressed, waited at the front window every evening for me to come home and who gave me love even when I gave her little, was a liability to my family, to my community and to herself.
My wife and I agonized over our decision. We approached No Kill Shelters, Cesar Millan, the people at Best Friends. We considered every angle. How could I be absolutely sure that she would not have another incident? How could I allow this beautiful creature to be taken and exterminated if Animal Control ever showed up at our door for her third strike? My dog was not going to finish her life alone in a “facility” somewhere. I owed her at least that much. So three Saturdays ago, a kind veterinarian came to our home and after what seemed like endless sobbing, kisses and goodbyes, Daisy was injected with medicine and died peacefully in Randi’s arms with me holding Randi.
There is nothing that makes me feel better about her death. I miss her like crazy. The only partial consolation in any of this is that she is safe and peaceful. As some of you know, it’s gut wrenching to lose a pet.
Strangely enough though, I have begun to notice odd little shifts in my corner of the universe that I believe were put in motion by Daisy’s death. Recently at a team meeting, a man who was interviewing me reflected the fact that the universe seems to bring us what we need and we have only to be open and aware of the sometimes subtle movements that can lead to bigger shifts in our lives.
In an effort to clear some of the energy of Daisy’s passing, my wife and I performed a sweet little ritual and saged the house. In walking through the house, we began to see things that we didn’t want anymore. We started move things around, converted my office into a meditation room and decided to sell some Pilates equipment out in our studio leaving me a proper man cave from where I write this story. Creating the meditation room also allowed for a creative and fun open space in our home that had been missing… a place for our baby to crawl around in and play one day soon….
After some time of reflection, I also have an awareness of how much energy it took to care for a dog like Daisy. For all intents and purposes, she was an amazing dog but there was always a worry attached to her, always a double-checking, always a slight preoccupation, an uncertainty. That thinking takes up a lot of space. Since she’s gone, I don’t have to double check the latch, walk around my neighborhood hyper-vigilant, worry that the gardener might leave the side gate ajar at the wrong moment…. Her passing has created space and, with it, perspective and a chance for new energy to come. In the same way that cleaning out a closet allows for new stuff to be stored, my dog left us to make room for a peaceful transition for Randi and me into parenthood when the time comes. It has created a new and greater space for me in my home that is mine alone to create and in which I can invent, think, bliss out and play.
When big transitions take place in our lives, let’s be reminded to look for the grace in them, to pay attention to the sometimes slightly hidden angels that are waiting quietly to bring us to new and potentially better places.
In our neighborhood, she was approached by off-leash dogs who mistook her for friendly and almost got to her before I could pull her away. We muzzled her for a short while but every walk was becoming a crap shoot. This sense of foreboding worsened as she got older and with two warnings against us from Animal Control, I began to realize that this dog who faithfully cared for my wife when she was stricken with a debilitating illness, who was loving to every human with whom she came in contact and who even helped cure a dear friend of mine from her desperate childhood fear of dogs, who sat with me most mornings as I got dressed, waited at the front window every evening for me to come home and who gave me love even when I gave her little, was a liability to my family, to my community and to herself.
My wife and I agonized over our decision. We approached No Kill Shelters, Cesar Millan, the people at Best Friends. We considered every angle. How could I be absolutely sure that she would not have another incident? How could I allow this beautiful creature to be taken and exterminated if Animal Control ever showed up at our door for her third strike? My dog was not going to finish her life alone in a “facility” somewhere. I owed her at least that much. So three Saturdays ago, a kind veterinarian came to our home and after what seemed like endless sobbing, kisses and goodbyes, Daisy was injected with medicine and died peacefully in Randi’s arms with me holding Randi.
There is nothing that makes me feel better about her death. I miss her like crazy. The only partial consolation in any of this is that she is safe and peaceful. As some of you know, it’s gut wrenching to lose a pet.
Strangely enough though, I have begun to notice odd little shifts in my corner of the universe that I believe were put in motion by Daisy’s death. Recently at a team meeting, a man who was interviewing me reflected the fact that the universe seems to bring us what we need and we have only to be open and aware of the sometimes subtle movements that can lead to bigger shifts in our lives.
In an effort to clear some of the energy of Daisy’s passing, my wife and I performed a sweet little ritual and saged the house. In walking through the house, we began to see things that we didn’t want anymore. We started move things around, converted my office into a meditation room and decided to sell some Pilates equipment out in our studio leaving me a proper man cave from where I write this story. Creating the meditation room also allowed for a creative and fun open space in our home that had been missing… a place for our baby to crawl around in and play one day soon….
After some time of reflection, I also have an awareness of how much energy it took to care for a dog like Daisy. For all intents and purposes, she was an amazing dog but there was always a worry attached to her, always a double-checking, always a slight preoccupation, an uncertainty. That thinking takes up a lot of space. Since she’s gone, I don’t have to double check the latch, walk around my neighborhood hyper-vigilant, worry that the gardener might leave the side gate ajar at the wrong moment…. Her passing has created space and, with it, perspective and a chance for new energy to come. In the same way that cleaning out a closet allows for new stuff to be stored, my dog left us to make room for a peaceful transition for Randi and me into parenthood when the time comes. It has created a new and greater space for me in my home that is mine alone to create and in which I can invent, think, bliss out and play.
When big transitions take place in our lives, let’s be reminded to look for the grace in them, to pay attention to the sometimes slightly hidden angels that are waiting quietly to bring us to new and potentially better places.
