Recently, my wife and I went through one of the more excruciating experiences of our lives the euthanasia of our beloved dog Murphy.
I remember making eye contact with Murphy moments before she took her last breath she flashed me a look that was an endearing blend of confusion and the reassurance that everyone was ok because we were both by her side.
When people who have never had a dog see their dog-owning friends mourn the loss of a pet, they probably think it's all a bit of an overreaction; after all, it's "just a dog".
However, those who have loved a dog know the truth: your own pet is never "just a dog".
Many times, I've had friends guiltily confide to me that they grieved more over the loss of a dog than over the loss of friends or relatives.
Research has confirmed that for most people, the loss of a dog is, in almost every way, comparable to the loss of a human loved one.
Unfortunately, there's little in our cultural playbook no grief rituals, no obituary in the local newspaper, no religious service to help us get through the loss of a pet, which can make us feel more than a bit embarrassed to show too much public grief over our dead dogs.
Perhaps if people realised just how strong and intense the bond is between people and their dogs, such grief would become more widely accepted.
This would greatly help dog owners to integrate the death into their lives and help them move forward.
An interspecies bond like no other
What is it about dogs, exactly, that make humans bond so closely with them?
For starters, dogs have had to adapt to living with humans over the past 10,000 years.
And they've done it very well: they're the only animal to have evolved specifically to be our companions and friends.
Anthropologist Brian Hare has developed the "domestication hypothesis" to explain how dogs morphed from their grey wolf ancestors into the socially skilled animals that we now interact with in very much the same way as we interact with other people.
Perhaps one reason our relationships with dogs can be even more satisfying than our human relationships is that dogs provide us with such unconditional, uncritical positive feedback.
(As the old saying goes, "may I become the kind of person that my dog thinks I already am.")
This is no accident. They have been selectively bred through generations to pay attention to people, and MRI scans show that dog brains respond to praise from their owners just as strongly as they do to food (and for some dogs, praise is an even more effective incentive than food).
Scientific studies also indicate that dogs can understand human intentions, try to help their owners and even avoid people who don't cooperate with their owners or treat them well.
Not surprisingly, humans respond positively to such unrequited affection, assistance and loyalty.
Our strong attachment to dogs was subtly revealed in a recent study of "misnaming."
Misnaming happens when you call someone by the wrong name, like when a parent mistakenly calls one of their kids by a sibling's name.
It turns out that the name of the family dog also gets confused with human family members, indicating that the dog's name is being pulled from the same cognitive pool that contains other members of the family.
(Curiously, the same thing rarely happens with cat names.)
It's no wonder dog owners miss them so much when they're gone.
It could mean the loss of a source of unconditional love, a primary companion who provides security and comfort, and maybe even a protégé that's been mentored like a child.
The loss of a dog can also seriously disrupt an owner's daily routine more profoundly than the loss of most friends and relatives.
For owners, their daily schedules even their vacation plans can revolve around the needs of their pets.
According to a recent survey, many bereaved pet owners will even mistakenly interpret ambiguous sights and sounds as the movements, pants and whimpers of the deceased pet.
This is most likely to happen shortly after the death of the pet, especially among owners who had very high levels of attachment to their pets.
While the death of a dog is horrible, dog owners have become so accustomed to the reassuring and nonjudgmental presence of their canine companions that, more often than not, they'll eventually get a new one.
So yes, I miss my dog. But I'm sure that I'll be putting myself through this ordeal again in the years to come.
-- Edited by Spook on Thursday 16th of March 2017 08:35:41 PM
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If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.
My girls are Misha, Maddy, Morgan and Muffin. RIP Jen, my princess.
RIP Molly, our dear girl who crossed the Rainbow Bridge 24/10/2016. A loyal and faithful companion.
I've put myself through the pain so many times over the years I can't count. I was a RAAF Police Dog Handler/trainer for most of my working life so I saw many, many dogs put down. Unfortunately, some people either cared so little about their dogs, or couldn't bare to see them put down that they refused to accompany their dogs on their last walk. Whenever a handler wasn't available for this job I always volunteered. It's a very distressing time watching the life drain from a dog and it certainly got no easier over the years, I just couldn't live with the idea a dog should take his last surrounded by people who just didn't care.
Toqlhot what a wonderful thing you did each time you accompanied a dog to it's last journey, yes never an easy thing to do at all, before coming back to Oz we had a large team of working dogs and sadly almost every year we had to say good bye to an old team member.
They give so much to us, I can't understand why so many people can't be with their loved pet in their final hours. Sadly I lost my big boy last year, I will always miss him and memories of him still make me feel warm he was so special to me and pulled me through a terrible time in my life.
I agree with member Spooks quote " If there are no dogs in heaven then when I die I want to go where they went"
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I am made up of flaws stitched together with good intentions.