I can still hear the jingle of his collar.  I thought I heard him flop down on the hardwood floors this morning while I was packing my dinner, but when I turned around there was no fuzzy beagle staring back at me.  Then, I cried. 

For those of us who think of our pet as a part of the family it really hurts when you have to say goodbye.  It has been a few days now and the pain is still there.  Distractions are great but fleeting. 

We have been trying to get out of the house to keep our minds off of the empty feeling that is constant at home right now, but coming back is the worst.  We pull our car into the driveway and almost utter the words, “We need to let Luckie out.” 

My husband was grilling last night.  He usually sits in a chair on the deck next to the grill and Luckie would scratch the sliding glass door to come outside.  As he was grilling he heard something and reached back to open the door but there was no fuzzy beagle waiting to be let out. 

We miss that little guy so much.  He was 14 years old and lived a good life.  The veterinarian said, “he lived a dignified life and had a dignified death” but it is still hard.

As I started to write this article I was wondering – why is the word “good” in goodbye because there is nothing “good” about saying goodbye.  I went to http://www.dictionary.com and under the definition of goodbye reads “Origin:  God be with ye” which makes me feel a little better. 

I did some searching to see if there were any tips on grieving for the loss of a pet.  I found some but decided that getting over the death of a loved one is not something that can be easily quantified or explained in bullet points.  Each one of us is different and grieves in our own way.  There was a poem on the website http://www.pet-loss.net – I thought it might be nice to share in case you or someone you know is still grieving a loss.

A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING…
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die…

-Anonymous

NOTE: There is considerable conflict over the actual authorship of this poem. It is most commonly attributed to a Mary Frye (and believed to have been written around 1932); however, nothing is known of the author. It is, however, believed to be one of the most requested (and reprinted) poems in the English language!