It is with sincerest respect and praise that I call upon Lord on this dreary grey October morning. I do not ask nor expect Him to lift my spirit for as I gaze to the majestic golden hickory of autumn, it comes to me that the somber mood within which I am beset creates a condition for fellowship that might not otherwise be attained.

Silent raindrops strew the tiniest of dark impressions on the brown jacket I’m wearing and also mingle with my tears, surely diluting the silent rivulets on my cheeks, but not for even a moment lessening the heaviness on my soul. As I approach a copse of great oaks so bold as to remain verdant as they stood midsummer, my mind is in bleakest mourning for a soul mate, no, two soul mates I was compelled to surrender back to the Almighty three weeks ago. Much of my heart went with them, yet somewhere in the depths of this solemnity, I understand. I understood for the whole of their time with me, but as is wont for the human psyche, that understanding was kept buried, as now they lie under the rain-soaked fallow hickory sentinels interred beneath, never again to romp through the wood, now somber and silent as if to join in my melancholy.

My old faithful girl, Dusty was ever at my side for the better part of fourteen years. Her closeness was constant so that it now feels as though some great and silent emptiness tears at my mind. An October chill wraps itself around my being as I scroll through memories of her – kissing me always on the mouth. If you wanted a kiss from Dusty, you had to prepare yourself for her style. She was the closest friend – no, family member – I’ve ever had and the loss is near unbearable. When God allows us to love, when we are blessed with His love and have it in our hearts, there is a price to be paid. I find myself for almost a month now remitting that cost. I wouldn’t give up His gift of love though – she didn’t.

Chewy was Dusty’s litter mate, we picked them both when my daughter was mourning the loss of an earlier pet – her name was Mika, and she was only a young pup. Had a disease we didn’t know about until it was too late. I took my daughter to a breeder and she chose Chewy. Dusty was the last one of that litter, and I didn’t want to leave her alone, so I picked her and she turned out to be a huge blessing for me, but I got attached to her brother Chewy almost as much as her. They were together for their entire lives of close to fourteen years, almost to the minute. They were both sick and getting worse by the day and it was a call I knew I had to make – the hardest of my life.

The chilly rain continues to wend its way down the dark boughs of watchful black gum trees as a faint breeze drifts through these wooded hills of autumn as I mournfully reflect. I understand that time alone will heal my loss, but not enough time has passed for the grief to abate much, and in some morbid imagining of guilt for having them euthanized, I continue to punish myself – unfortunately it’s how I’m wired so I’ll have to keep telling myself I did the right thing, but it’s almost impossible to convince myself, such is my misery.

Sorry for the downer of this post, but maybe posting it’ll help my healing. If any of y’all have lost a beloved pet, you’ll know, at least at some level, of what I’m trying to get through. The dreary grey autumn wood reflects my state of mind perfectly, and God understands what I have to deal with, so it’s as if in this moment He has set His creation around here to accommodate my grief – maybe to grieve more deeply and get it over with.

I have to believe those pups are in the hands of Jesus now along with all the other pets I’ve lost through the years. If you’ve had this unfortunate experience, yours are there too. There’s just too much love there to be gone. The Bible doesn’t say a lot about the spirits of animals, but to have experienced how much those old pups loved me – indeed, they taught me a lot about love – I choose to believe they simply had to have spirits and are now in His spirit world.

I’ll probably just amble through the damp, silent woods this afternoon and remember the good times we had together. As the wet-weather creeks slowly fill with rain and spent leaves, at some point I’ll come back inside to a hot cup of coffee and resume enjoying the company of my other pups – two adorable gifts Dusty left me six years ago to remember her by (and I’ve also come to love them dearly). Again, I apologize if this puts you on a downer, but if this doleful eulogy touched you, I hope at least it was in a good way.

God bless all.

MK