It is painfully quiet without Gingko the pug and LuLu the lhasa in the house. There are just three of us now... the baby, The Chidler and me. Hey, three is a magic number. A good number. When I came home from work I immediately noticed the funk was gone. I vaccummed and scrubbed all the floors. I put away their dishes.
The three of us went for our nightly trek. When we came by the tattoo shop I noticed a young tribalized couple sitting on the steps. On her lap was a brand new pug puppy. We walked over and I told them I had just euthanized my black baby boy. They were sad for us. I see it as a sort of signal that my sweet pug is okay, peaceful. How totally weird though. I started to tear up a bit but grabbed ahold of myself. I told them to enjoy that sweet puppy.
This morning I tortured myself by attempting to find any stray black pug hairs on the floor. A guy named Phil once wrote that if there was a nuclear war, all the cockroaches running around afterward would be wearing fur coats made of pug hair because the existence of a pug hair is measured in half lives. I beg to differ. I found one or two, but it was difficult.
I take really amazing photographs and thankfully there are many of the dogs. I show the baby the pugs picture and I say "who is that?" and he chimes back in his sweet little voice "Gink". I don't want him to forget.
The real joy that animals bring us cannot be compared to our human relationships. No one can offer us unconditional love the way a pet can. Everyone says that, but it is true. There are too many dynamics in our relationships with other people. These dogs went with me through my twenties after college, when I truly thought I knew it all. They were with me when I realized that I didn't know a damn thing. They loved me the same.
How many people can you say that about?
loss of a pet
