Sunday, May 11, 2014


My dog Flurry. On Thursday May 1st my parents called to say the unsayable. They had to put him down. What a horrible choice of words, how can you describe saying goodbye to a member of your family, releasing him from the pain of age and likely kidney failure, with words like 'put him down'. He'd been my dog for most of my life, and suddenly he was gone. The worst part, I was half way across the country when it happened.

For the past two years, each time I'd go home to visit I'd tell my aging puppy, to just hang in there until Christmas, or summer, the next time I'd be home. Since February every time I talked to my parents I reminded them to tell Flurry I'd see him in June.

The thought that when I come through the door next month he wont be there to great me, the first thing I always do when getting home, sit down and put his head between my knees and rub his sides, his curly white tail waving crazily. The way he'd be so happy and smiling he'd snort when he breathed. I'd reprimand my dad for letting the fur in front of his eyes get so long you'd wonder how he could even see.

In the last year or so, he wouldn't come running, his blindness and deafness lead to him sleeping right next to the door, either in the closet or on his favourite blanket. Sometimes he'd wake up on his own when you came in, other times you'd have to wake him up. But either way he'd always be thrilled. Even if I hadn't been home for months, he always knew it was me, and loved me.

Losing Flurry is more than just losing my dog. I feel as tho with him gone now my childhood is well and truly remote. I have in the past two weeks felt lonelier at times that I ever have since moving away from home. And I still cry to think of him. I sat down to write this post 5 times during those days only to freeze at the keyboard, tears freely flowing from my eyes. I can't imaging what going home on June 6th will feel like. But I know in my heart it cannot possibly feel right.

Flurry, you were always a good dog. I wish I could go back and spend more time kicking a soccer ball for you in the back yard. More time petting your belly on the couch. More time playing tug-a-war with your favourite blanket. More time playing the oven-mitt game. More time sneaking you pieces of cheese. More time taking you for walks and letting you root around in the ditches. More time chase rabbits. More time going for car rides. More time to play with Jovi and Sadie, and all your other dog friends. No dog can ever replace you because you were my first dog, and you taught me how to be me.

So I'm off to watch Marley and Me, and cry about my dog a little more. Maybe not the best choice of post for mother's day. But I'm glad to have finally gotten it out. For everyone out there with a dog who loves you more than anything else can ever love you. Spend a couple extra minutes with him or her tonight.

And Mom, I love you. I'll be home soon.


  1. Aw, I'm so sorry for your loss. It's never easy losing a pet, let alone a childhood pet. Big hugs.

  2. 2:15 a.m. Sunday May 18th....reading your post for the first time...tears running down my eyes....we just went through the exact same thing with our dog Willy...14 years...they become a part of your family...things just are not the same...feeling your pain and sorrow...thinking about you and your family...
    Troy and Annette

  3. Sorry to hear this, losing a pet is devastating. I lost my cat Dusty when I was 17- she had been around my whole life and she was closer to me than anyone else. When I was a baby and was crying she used to sit next to me until I stopped. She left a big hole in my life like I imagine Flurry has done in yours.