One thing I realized, way before things went the way they did, was my deep gratitude for working with and being with Skye. The sheer delight at observing her, the privilege of getting to know her, the opening of my heart in such a short time was amazing to see. Somewhere I read: and take many pictures while you can. It might have been from a youtube video of a young German shepherd who was poisoned, and I could tell the owner had been deeply affected. While Skye is now in the best home I could find for her – she is doing probably much better than I am  :).  May this be a reminder for you to cherish your time with your 4 legged or winged companions – and allow them to do their magic.

This is excerpted from Jon Katz’s new book, “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die”.

It is possible to take something beautiful and lasting out of the heart-wrenching experience of seeing the animal you love move inexorably toward death. Nobody can take the grief away, nor should anyone try, but our love for animals is nothing but a gift, and it keeps on giving, even when they go home.

A man named Harry, an Iraq war veteran and tennis coach from Minnesota, hit upon a simple and profound idea to transform this otherwise sad experience into a blessed one.

It was a gray morning when the vet told Harry that his dog Duke’s heart was failing and that it wouldn’t be long before he died. Harry was not surprised, but still, the news depressed him. Listening to the vet, Harry later told me, he’d gotten an idea, one he thought would pay tribute to his life with Duke and give him something to feel besides sadness and loss.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to give you a Perfect Day,” he said quietly to Duke as they left the vet’s office. He would take the day off from work and create a sweet memory with his dog. It would be a special day, filled with all the things Duke loved most, as close to perfect as Harry could make it. He would take his Canon PowerShot along to capture some images of the day, to preserve the memories.

Duke was a border collie/shepherd mix. He had always been a lively, energetic dog and would herd anything that moved. Walks, work, food, Frisbees, red balls—these were the things Duke loved, along with chasing balloons and popping them.

Harry went shopping for supplies, and when he came back Duke was napping on his dog bed. He went over, lay down next to the dog, and hugged him. “Pal,” he whispered, “tomorrow is for you, your Perfect Day.” He was embarrassed to tell his wife, Debbie, about the plan, but she sensed what was going on and gave the two of them the space they needed. It was her belief that the dog, more than anything else, helped Harry heal from the trauma of Iraq. He couldn’t look at Duke without smiling, and when he had first come home, he hadn’t smiled too often.

At eight the next morning, Harry got up. Duke was lying on his bed, which was next to Harry and Debbie’s.  The dog rose a bit slowly, then followed Harry down the stairs and into the kitchen. Harry opened the refrigerator and took out a hamburger patty and two strips of bacon, cooked the night before. He put them on a plate and into the microwave.

Duke was riveted. When the plate came out—Harry touched it to make sure it was warm but not hot—he dumped the meat into Duke’s bowl, along with his heart pills. It was as if Duke couldn’t believe his eyes. He was almost never given people food. Looking up at Harry, as if asking permission, he waited until Harry nodded and said, “OK, boy,” before inhaling the food.

A feeling of sadness came over Harry as he thought about how Duke would soon be gone. He wandered into the living room and lay down on the couch. Duke came over and curled up next to him. Harry began to sob, softly, then more deeply and loudly; Duke gently licked his face.

His dog was dying. But they could spend one last day together.

After a few minutes, Harry rose to get dressed. Although he worried about straining the dog’s heart, he let Duke follow him up the stairs. On this day, Duke could do anything he wanted. No corrections. He sat on the bedroom floor and watched Harry put his clothes on. When Harry said “Sneakers,” Duke labored to get up onto his feet, walked over to the closet, and brought Harry his white running shoes. Harry had enjoyed training his dog to bring him his sneakers, and Duke seemed to love it too.

Harry went back downstairs, followed by Duke. He picked up a bag from the pantry and walked out into the yard. Inside the bag were two dozen high-bounce red balls. One at a time, he threw them and bounced them off the back fence. Duke tore after one gleefully, then another, catching some, narrowly missing others as they whizzed past his head.

When Duke started to pant, Harry stopped.

Next they went to the town pond. Harry sat by the water’s edge while Duke waded in, paddled around, swam back, shook himself off, then repeated the routine about a dozen times. Every few minutes Harry tossed the dog a liver treat. It practically rained the small and pungent treats. Once again, Duke looked as if he could hardly believe his good fortune.

They came back to the house and napped. After lunch, Harry took Duke to the vast state park outside of town.  He picked a flat, gentle trail, and the two of them walked a couple of miles. Eventually, they came to a stone abutment with a beautiful view. Harry walked over to the edge and sat down. Duke clambered out and curled up beside him. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and the wind ruffled the dog’s hair. Duke held his nose up to the wind, picking up the scents of the earth.

God, I love this creature, Harry thought. I never feel this peaceful, this much at ease. It is something to remember, to honor.

They sat together for nearly an hour, enjoying a bond of complete understanding and affection. If only the world could stay like this, Harry thought, this simple, this good.

Harry knew that Duke was tired, so they took their time walking back, stopping frequently to rest. A few years earlier, Duke could have hiked all day, and sometimes they did that together. But not anymore.

When they got home, Harry cooked Duke some prime sirloin, then chopped it up. The dog was beside himself, looking up at Harry as he ate, expecting the food to be taken away. That evening, Harry put one of his favorite Clint Eastwood movies into the DVD player and Duke hopped up onto the couch, put his head in Harry’s lap, and went to sleep. When the movie was over, Harry carried the dog up the stairs and laid him down on his bed.

Several weeks after the Perfect Day, when Harry came home from work, Duke was not there by the door to greet him, and he knew he was gone. He went into the living room to find Duke dead. He knelt by his dog, closed his eyes, and said a prayer. Then he dug a deep hole in the backyard and buried Duke there, along with some bones, his collar, and some of his beloved red balls.

Of all the photos Harry took on the Perfect Day, the one he loved the best was of Duke sitting out on the stone ledge in the state park, taking in the sights and smells.

Harry passed on the idea of the Perfect Day to friends and other dog owners struggling to come to terms with their own pets’ failing health. Many have since shared with him the stories of their dog’s Perfect Day. It makes him happy to think about Duke’s legacy—all those Perfect Days for all those other great dogs leaving our world behind.

This is part of a comment from youtube: …Souls are not prerequisites for unconditional love, compassion, or respect….

And another: …. Meanwhile, knowing that we made a difference in the lives of the ones we did love while they were here will have to be enough…..

It does not matter what religious orientation you follow, if any.

Jon Katz new book explores life after pets die

By Zorianna Kit

(Reuters) – Best-selling author and animal advocate Jon Katz has been writing about dogs for over a decade. Many of his own, past a present, have taken center stage fiction and nonfiction books such as “The Dogs of Bedlam Farms,” “A Dog Year,” “Izzy and Lenore” and “Rose in a Storm.”

Katz wrote his latest, “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die,” which comes out on Tuesday, to provide guidance, support and advice for people on how to handle the loss of a pet.

Reuters spoke with Katz to discuss his new book and how people can cope with life when the family pet passes away.

Q: What was the biggest surprise for you in researching books about pets and grieving?

A: “I found that almost every book had to do with the afterlife. Not a single book said, ‘This is what is known about things that will help you grieve.’ So I started talking to vets and psychologists and gathering information and interviewing maybe 200 different people about what was helpful to them.”

Q: And what did you find?

A: “People need to bring rituals into grieving. Memorial services, remembrances, pictures — those are concrete things that make grieving tangible. The Internet offers all kinds of opportunities for this like making digital albums and Facebook pages. People used to have to hide grief. You couldn’t go to your boss and say, ‘I need a week off, my cat died.’ You probably still can’t, but you do need to say, ‘I’m having a tough time.'”

Q: No doubt your own personal experience went in to this.

A: “I’m one of those people who has always struggled with emotions and revealing them. When my dog Orson died, I did this very male thing of ‘It’s just a dog and I’ll just move on.’ I was very slow to grasp the emotion. But Orson is the reason I started writing about dogs. He’s the first (dog) book I wrote and HBO did a movie about him (“A Dog Year”). Writing this book inspired me to go back and look at the impact of his loss and on my life, as well as other dogs that I’ve lost.”

Q: You ended up putting Orson down. How does one deal with the guilt of making such a decision?

A: “It’s important to remember that the animals are not grieving with us. They’re very accepting. They’re not lying there thinking ‘How could you do this to me? Why aren’t you keeping me going?’ Pets don’t do the human things of guilt and anger and recrimination that we do. They come and go with great acceptance.

“One idea that I advocate is the dealing with guilt directly. Acknowledge the good life, remember the good things you did with your pet — the places you took them, the affection you showed them. Remind those who have lost a pet that they generally gave their pets a good life and that’s a good thing, so don’t forget that.”

Q: Is there any way to prepare for a pet’s death?

A: “If you’re going to love animals and have a life with them, the odds are you’re going to lose them. It’s helpful when you get a dog to accept the fact that this dog is not going to be with you your whole life.”

Q: Is getting another dog acceptable in getting over the previous one? It’s not a betrayal to the one you lost?

A: “I’m always happy when people choose to get another dog because it’s a healthy and healing thing to do, and there are millions of them needing homes. But there is no single time frame to do it in because grieving is an intensely personal experience. In my case, I get another dog as soon as I feel ready. As a dog lover, it is right for me to have them.

“With children, I don’t think it’s good if you go out and immediately get another dog or cat. Animals are not disposable any more than people. Children need to see that the loss is important, and the family should take time to honor that.”

Q: Is grief more difficult if you rescue an animal?

A: “When you rescue something, it’s very different than if you adopt or buy. Rescuing implies saving. When you rescue something and then lose it, it can be a huge factor in the intensity of the grief. I have two rescues, Izzy and Frieda. I’m working on a book about Frieda now, ‘Frieda and Me: Second Chances.’ She opened my eyes to that world of dogs that nobody wants who are often the dogs you love most.”

Q: The pet industry is bigger than ever, and it seems like people grieve over the death of animals more so today than ever before. Do you agree?

A: “Today people are developing very powerful relationships with animals. The whole idea of community is breaking down. American culture is being increasingly disconnected and fragmented. Families are breaking up and Americans spend so much time in front of screens that they’re not spending time with each other.”

Q: And that means…

A: “We need connection. We need support, love, affection. We need to bond and animals are filling this hole. And they’re doing great work at it — unconditional love, non-judgment

and companionship you can absolutely rely on. It’s a little troubling to think they are doing this instead of people.”

(Editing by Bob Tourtellotte)

There are many ways to deal with it. This was posted on facebook by Rasta’s Rescue Ranch:

Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last month. The day after she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated these words:

Dear God,
Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.
I hope you will play with her. She likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.
Love, Meredith

We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.
Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, ‘To Meredith’ in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, ‘When a Pet Dies.’ Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:
Dear Meredith,
Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help and I recognized her right away.
Abbey isn’t sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don’t need our bodies in heaven, I don’t have any pockets to keep your picture in so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.
Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way, I’m easy to find. I am wherever there is love.

Love, God

Much of the info on this post is compiled from several sources on the internet. I gave credit where available.