My house mate Christina and her family are putting their year-old German Shepherd to sleep this weekend after a losing battle with cancer. Christina went home to visit Cheyenne for a final time and is struggling with the impending loss. Pets are an extremely relatable subject. Everyone in our house could sympathize with Christina about her loss.
A dog is not just a random animal, but part of the family. An important part of life is learning to deal with death.
Many families buy dogs and incorporate them into their every day lives in order to teach children lessons about life, responsibility, and eventually about grief, and dying. Dogs are great teachers. All our talk about a dying pet has made me ponder my relationship with Dakota, my own yellow lab, who turned 12 this month.
He is in great shape for his age and still loves to go for hikes up a sprawling hill in our backyard, and occasionally catch a ball or frisbee. But his age is starting to show. The fur on his face is turning white, he creaks and cracks when he stands up, and when he walks up the stairs he does so gingerly, instead of by leaps and bounds.
Most of it as sibling rivals. We grew to love each other unconditionally, but it started out pretty rocky. There are moments, even now, when he irritates me beyond belief, but I also know that he is always there for me, and vice versa. When I was in fourth grade I wanted a female chocolate lab puppy.
