In my lifetime, I
have experienced many occasions of loss. I lost a grandmother at a very early
age, followed by deaths of other relatives, and even a few classmates, before I
ever graduated from high school.
The older I have
grown, of course, the more losses have come my way. Not all losses were to
death. Some were job losses, friends who moved away, and other times when
something or someone I cared about was no longer part of my world. Grieving
comes with any loss, not just death.
Apart from the
deaths of family members, I have probably grieved the most over the deaths of
pets. Some of you have either never owned a pet or have not allowed yourself to
become emotionally involved with one—and if that is so, you will likely not
understand the rest of this blog.
My philosophy of
inviting a pet into my home is this:
- I don’t make the decision lightly; I weigh the costs in terms of time, money and energy before they ever set their hairy little paws in my house. (Well, there was one time when I broke that rule and allowed child number two to influence my decision, which culminated in the addition of not one but THREE cats . . . but I digress.)
- I tend to look at my lifestyle and current circumstances and what I think I can handle before saying yes.
- Once I have made the decision to bring a pet home with me, I’m fully invested. I believe that pets are helpless and at our mercy to give them good care, so if I have committed to shoulder that responsibility, I take it very seriously and try to give them an abundance of care and loving interaction so they have a good quality of life.
The time
inevitably comes when a pet is no longer able to sustain a good quality of life
and has permanently lost its good health. I have had to make the decision on
five different occasions to let my pet go and not prolong its life, even though
I was not ready to say goodbye. And that is one of the hardest things I’ve ever
done.
Last week, one of
my adult children had to make that same choice. After almost thirteen precious
years with their little furry Oscar (a black and white cat who had been with
them almost as long as they have been a couple), the humane thing to do was not
fight to keep him alive even one more day. Although they had known over the
past couple of years that that day was on the horizon, it descended on them
with a suddenness that almost took their breath away. The vet said Oscar was in
pain, and it did not appear that anything short of extreme life-saving
surgeries and other measures would keep him alive for anything other than a
very short time. While his mama and daddy were wrestling with that hard decision,
he died in the arms of the vet. And they are grieving.
Is it the very
same loss as the death of a parent or child . . . siblings or grandparents? No.
But it’s a significant loss just the same, and the worst thing to do is to
pretend that it didn’t matter, that it was only a pet—just an animal. It matters. When we expend love on any
of God’s creatures, it matters . . . and God is pleased. He knows how much it
hurts to lose someone you love. He knows that we sometimes close ourselves off
from forming a bond with people and pets because we fear the gut-wrenching loss
that inevitably happens on this fallen earth. But part of living the full life
means taking the hurts as they come and learning to feel both the happy and the
sad emotions. They are all God-given; our heavenly Father created both happiness
and sadness, and there is a purpose for both. Yes, loss hurts. But most things
in the world that are worth anything cost us something. Loving is no exception.
Sometimes the cost of loving is loss and sadness.
I can tell you
that each loss of a pet has brought me to great gulping tears, and wrenching moments
of trying to find my footing again. Waking up to a quiet house instead of a cat
meowing for breakfast. Coming home from work with no wet, pink nose pressed to
the window to see if I’m coming, and no greeting at the door. No furry body
that leaps onto the arm of the chair at night, looking for someone to scratch its
ears. It is a time of grieving and adjusting to a new loss. But the memories of
the times spent with each of my precious pets have given me joy in the
aftermath. They add to my memories of the past, and those pets have become part
of the family stories we recount as we sit around the Christmas table or
celebrate birthdays together. Any family occasion where we recall family
stories inevitably includes pet stories as well.
A few years ago,
as I was grieving the death of my cat of 18 years, I found comfort in the
following Scripture as well as this quote from Albert Schweitzer. Somehow they
gave me permission to grieve appropriately and not feel foolish for feeling
deep emotions at the loss of a pet that I had cared for and loved for almost
two decades.
“The godly are concerned for the welfare of
their animals.” (Proverbs
12:10)
A PRAYER
FOR ANIMALS
Hear our
humble prayer, O God,
for our
friends the animals.
Especially
for animals who are suffering;
for any
that are hunted or lost or
deserted or
frightened or hungry;
for all
that must be put to death.
We entreat
for them all thy mercy and pity.
And for
those who deal with them,
we ask a
heart of compassion,
gentle and
kindly words.
Make us
true friends of the animals
and so to
share the blessings of the merciful.
~ Albert Schweitzer
