Tag Archives: Pet Loss

The Furry One

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Sometimes grief is overwhelming, especially when so much of it is lingering about the house.

Sometimes you are consciously able to break grief into the sum of its parts: loss, anger or fury, denial, desire, the desperate need to reconcile the coexistence of relief and sadness, and exhaustion—mental and physical.

Sometimes you just pour out your soul with tears and sobs.

Sometimes you just have to suck it up and handle the business part of loss.

Sometimes you just hold on so tight that the object of your love and grief wriggles to get away from you.

Sometimes other people just wriggle to get away from you.

Sometimes you just lay prostrate and pray without ceasing.

Sometimes you question whether you really have the faith necessary to lift those prayers up.

Sometimes you are speechlessly grateful for caring, compassionate, empathetic people who remind you that there is goodness in the world.

Sometimes you look behind you to remind yourself of all the progress, just so you don’t forget that growth is real.

Sometimes it is the porcupine that gives you the hug you needed.

Sometimes you remember that your faith didn’t stumble.

Sometimes you look around the house and see the growing list of repairs that you need to take care of but just can’t muster the umph to do it.

Sometimes you remember that you were supposed to be pushing out two publications this month.

Sometimes you are so pained and unfocused.

Sometimes you love so much and love isn’t enough to seemingly change anything.

Sometimes you’re just in a state of fury.

Sometimes things and people just aren’t what you wish they were.

Sometimes you don’t want to forgive (again).

Sometimes you have to beg for judgment free acceptance.

Sometimes you trade cookies and wine #TreatYoSelf moments for time on the yoga mat, breathing through some sun salutations. #nocalTreatYoSelf

Sometimes those quiet moments of practice allow you to just be open.

Sometimes you can let some of the hurt and righteous indignation seep away.

Sometimes you can find hope in the mess that surrounds you.

Sometimes you can feel the dispatch of the Holy Homeboy’s Holy Spirit surround you with much needed comfort.

Sometimes you can hear and feel the ancestors exhorting that it will be ok; they are waiting for their delivery and will cherish it.

Sometimes you can pray for peace and really embrace it and hope others will as well.

The House of Melancholy


There is a sadness over Casa d’ABM this weekend. The Furry One is essentially near the end of life. His recent decline has been rapid and heartbreaking. I have had my beloved fur ball since he was 8 weeks old. He’s been my constant companion and unconditional love for a very long time. It is one of life’s tragedies that our animals do not share our lifespans. These are The Furry One’s last days, and I am a mess. Hope has been incredibly kind to me; I’ve wept many times the last few days.

The impending loss of our four-legged family member has brought about a sad shadow of past losses over this home. Hope has withdrawn into herself. When she engages, she does so with heaviness. After some prodding last night, she openly mourned how much she’s lost in the last few years: Her puppy, her dad, things from her old home with her dad, things from previous foster families. She didn’t cry, but she’s just so sad. She even confided that she asked that her room be painted pink in order to give me the impression that she was a girlie girl; she really wished she had been honest and asked for the room to be painted blue or purple. She’s not really a girlie girl at all.

I think I’ll see about having her room painted by year’s end. I won’t cater to every one of Hope’s whims, but there’s no sense in keeping a room that Hope’s pre-adoptive representative-self asked for when the real her is here now.

I feel like I’ve made a number of parenting mistakes in the midst of my grief this week. I do apologize to Hope when I can’t seem to get myself together. She worked very hard on her chores yesterday, even going for the bonus sweeping/vacuuming/mopping chore of the common areas in the house yesterday (It’s worth an extra $5). She did it on her own, and all I could do was snap about why she didn’t vacuum before she mopped. She was so sad; I didn’t praise her first. As a kid, I remembered being asked why I didn’t dust before vacuuming; I remember that I just didn’t know. It didn’t occur to me that I should do it in a particular order. It didn’t occur to Hope either. And like my mom years ago, I found myself trying to calmly explain the rationale about the order and praising her on her initiative and how great the mopped floor looked.

I wish I could do some lessons learned this week, but I really can’t see past the sadness. This will be our first major loss together. It hurts.

Today we will go have Sunday dinner with some friends; we will enjoy the sunlight and we will love one another and cuddle The Furry One.

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