Losing a Pet - As the Path Wanes So Does the Pain

     Last March our dog, Chica died, after around six months of illness. We had enjoyed her companionship for over thirteen years. A loss of this sort can be pretty profound, as anyone who has ever owned and lost a beloved pet, would know ?it hurts.

Her name meant 'young chic' (young girl), in Spanish. She was part boxer and lab mix. A well-proportioned, medium size dog, she weighed around 60 pound, at her healthiest state. Her colors were predominantly tan, with white paws, and no tail ?just a stub that she tried to wag when she got excited. She was just a mutt but she became a special part our family, which also includes a cat, she meant a lot to us. Since I am an artist and work out of my home I was with her ninety percent of the time therefore, her and I were especially close.

She was a smart girl, docile with a sweet disposition. Her calm demeanor allowed her, on her first try, to earn her 'Canine Good Citizen' certificate from Kings Kennels in Kingwood, Texas, which I proudly displayed it in my art studio. She also enjoyed people and she was friendly with everyone. She was especially gentle with small children, never would raise a paw to them - like she would with me.

She loved her daily walks, which we had done just about everyday since we had gotten her at the age of four months from the Houston SPCA. This was our time we both enjoyed, but it was mostly her time she enjoyed chasing squirrels up a tree, smelling tree trunks and any thing else there was to smell. We put in countless miles over the years on her almost daily walks, either at the local parks or at the nearby bayou.

For around thirteen years she had been a part of our lives at our current home in Humble Texas out side of Houston. During that time she had her own backyard where she dug her holes, lazed, played and defended it from squirrels, raccoons, possums and other wild critters.

During her time with us, she had a habit of waiting for us at the gate at the side of our house that faced the driveway. From the years of living in the back yard, she had worn a ten-inch path in the grass that was about sixty feet in length that ran from the side gate to the back yard and the rear of the house to the back door, where she entered through her doggy door.

From that side gate, vantage point, she was able to see us when we arrived, as we drove up the driveway. Upon seeing us, she would wait for us to get out of the car.

And, by the time we got out of the car and walked to the front door, about ten feet, she would have dashed to the back of the house, down her well-worn path, to the back door, entered the house through her doggy door and travel to the front of the house, for a total of about 130 feet. Inside, the front door, she would meet and greet us. There, she would actually, smile, and because she didn't have a tail to wag, she waggled her whole body from side to side. It was funny.

Sadly, when she died, there were no notification of kin, family or anyone, and no funeral procession. I felt that for as much as she had meant to us, she deserved a big, national, broadcast to announce to the world that it had lost something very special! But instead, my wife took half a day off and we quietly, somberly, buried her in our back yard.

Her grave was is an eighteen-inch deep hole she had dug and maintained over the years. This was where she laid in the summer to stay cool. The hole was deep enough for her to lay her skinny body in there and the only part of her you would see was her head at the top of the hole. Ironically, this hole she had dug became her resting place, I just dug it a bit deeper and we placed her in it.

Early this past fall, six months after her passing, I was raking leaves in the back yard when I noticed that her trail was almost completely gone, as the grass had gradually over taken it and her trail is no longer as noticeable as it once was.

"The trail is disappearing", I thought, "Just like the hurt in our hearts from losing her is also subsiding."