No more jingle jangle.
Nose focus
Our dog Zeppelin died yesterday. He was twelve years old and had lived a pretty healthy life but over the last two days a combination of arthritis, throat problems and pneumonia suddenly shut his canine body down. We had to make the tough decision that every pet owner dreads, and in the end we realized that we had to let him go to ease his suffering. My wife and I have been an emotional trainwreck for the last 24 hours, of course.
So many things spark new waves of grief and tears: a tuft of dog hair behind the couch, his bed lying empty on the floor, the empty water bowl, and the silence–especially the silence. Gone are the click-clacks of his feet on the wood floors, the jingle of his collar when he’d scratch his neck, and the barking at pretty much anything he heard outside. He used to wake us up at ridiculously early hours whining to be fed but this morning, the silence was deafening. And heart-breaking.
I know that we’re not the first people to lose a beloved pet. We’ve received overwhelming sympathy from friends and family that understand how much Zep meant to us and the role he played in our little family. After all, he had been with us as long as we’ve been married. We’ve never known life together without him. We’ve never lived in a dog-less house. I think that’s what’s most painful about the whole ordeal; there’s just a big gaping hole in our life right now.
- “Helping” Tracy read in Santa Fe
The Bright Side
We had twelve years with him. Sure he was a pain in the ass sometimes (chewed up antique quilt rack anyone?) but the unconditional love and constant companionship he gave us enriched our lives to no end, and we’re certainly feeling that now. Last Christmas, we took a family vacation to Santa Fe and decided that we wanted him along for the ride. He was already going deaf and wasn’t as spry as he used to be but we knew that it might be the last chance we have to include him in a big family adventure. And alas, it was. But it was a trip in which we let him sleep in the hotel bed with us (kind of like sharing your bunk with a squirming triceratops), walked him in the high desert, and generally enjoyed each others’ company on the road. He even did some reading with Tracy in our casita.
Our last photo of Zep
Make Photos. Now.
The other bonus is that we have a lot of great photos of him that spark great memories. I’m not going to ruminate on the Mythical Power Of Photography To Stop Time And Capture Memories, but I will say this: make photos. Lots of them. There’s no reason not to these days, as cameras and storage are virtually free.
And if your photo involves more than just snapping a frame with your phone, find time to do it anyway. I had put off making a family portrait of the three of us for a long while but I finally threw one together last week. It took a whopping ten minutes to set up, light, pose and shoot and it’s not technically perfect by any means. But it ended up being the last photo taken of Zeppelin. Just a few days later and he’s gone.
So if you see a photo, take it. Don’t wait. It doesn’t have to impress anyone with its composition, clarity or color. It just needs to capture the moment or mean something, if only just for you.
And get yourself a dog. They make life better, even when you lose them.
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No more jingle jangle.
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Our first day with Zep. Look at those paws!
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Puppy power
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A bundle of cute and trouble
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Bath time
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The first photo of my Project365
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Nose focus
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“Hey man, you gonna eat that?”
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“Helping” Tracy read in Santa Fe
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Hogging the bed in Oklahoma City
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Our last photo of Zep
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- No more jingle jangle.
-
- Our first day with Zep. Look at those paws!
-
- Puppy power
-
- A bundle of cute and trouble
-
- Bath time
-
- The first photo of my Project365
-
- Nose focus
-
- “Hey man, you gonna eat that?”
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- “Helping” Tracy read in Santa Fe
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- Hogging the bed in Oklahoma City
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- Our last photo of Zep
Well, I’m bawling. So sorry, guys.
So sorry for your loss. I know how big a part of the family pets become.
I will miss his jangling collar and especially his all-around general goofy-ness. He never failed to make me laugh when I was with him. He was such a beautiful dog Corey. He had good parents too – the best a dog could ask for!
Thanks all.
Great stuff, Corey – we feel your pain.
What a warm and loving tribute! I have to go hug my dog now!
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Beautiful tribute Corey. My heart aches for you & Tracy.
Tracy and Corey,
Sorry for the loss of your friend.
Thank you for sharing your photos and love for Zep. I always knew what a huge part of your lives that he was and I know this must be a difficult time. I have no doubt…and please know, in a small way you guys were a part of my decision to get a dog, and then I ended up with two dogs! I knew what a joy he was in your life and other dog owners expressed the same joy and I wanted that also. I’m thinking about you both and I will definitely bring my camera with me more often. Love you.
Tears here. I lost Shannon (black flat coated retriever) almost 10 years ago after 16 years. the emptiness was the worst. when i was finally able to think about getting another dog, i told my vet no more just one dog. so now I share with 2 rescues.
they live and love for too short a time. and we are all the better for them.
dogs rule.
thanks for sharing this.
Hi, Corey. I ‘m a friend of Lezlee Masson’s. VERY sorry to read about your loss. We had to let our 16 1/2 year-old cocker spaniel go 4 years back, and I – and everybody else who’s commented here – understand what you’re feeling. You both did the right thing. He really looked to be a most handsome fellow!
Thanks everyone. We’re slowly finding our groove again without him. Mornings are especially rough since he was such a part of the routine, but we really appreciate the sympathy from everyone. Dog people are cool people!
Thanks for sharing, Corey. I will miss hearing the Zep stories from Tracy.
You both are in my thoughts.
Tracy and Corey,
Losing a dog is a miserable experience. Even when you console yourself that you had wonderful times with your dog and you were blessed to have him–the overwhelming loss is almost too hard to bear. I know where you are coming from and also where you are going. The loss of a dog is like the loss of anything important in your life. It does not get easier, but you do learn to live with it and rely on those good memories.
I still have the tags from both of our dogs and I cherish them. My heart goes out to both of you.
Betty Jo
ps–we are still thinking about getting a dog. When our first dog, Tootsie, died I was ready in 2 months. It is taking a bit longer this time. We both miss Flash and his unending devotion.
So sorry for your loss. Nancy