Dunn- Best. Dog. Ever.

This handsome boy is Dunn.  He lived his best dog life for thirteen years.  That wonderful life came to a sad end this past Friday.  Dunn lived the kind of life any dog would envy.  He pretty much did whatever suited him.  That involved a lot of sleeping and eating, with an occasional howl thrown in for good measure.  He was pretty lazy, but awfully sweet.  He will be terribly missed.

Dunn was my mom’s dog.  My mom passed away about six years ago.  When she died, my dad knew he was not home enough to care for Dunn.  My sister took Dunn (and my mom’s turtle, Grace) into her home.  Dunn has been my sister’s dog ever since then.  She always said he was the best dog ever.

Although it seems like my sister has had Dunn for a long time, it really doesn’t seem as if my mom has been gone a long time.  I read somewhere that the loss of your mother is like a wound that never heals.  You just learn to live with the pain.  This is an accurate description of what my life has been like since losing my mom.  And although I really thought of Dunn as my sister’s dog, I guess part of me still felt that he was a living link to my mom.  When he died, it was a little like losing the last little part of her that we still had.

My mom did not die peacefully.  She dealt with cancer and the devastating effects of previous cancer treatments for a couple of years prior to her death.  Her body withstood pain and suffering that I did not believe a person could survive.  She was a very private person and she never wanted too many people to know what she was going through.  For the first few months after she was gone, I felt like I needed to remember every detail of her ordeal.  So few people knew what she had endured.  My mind would replay the doctor visits and the hospital stays and the words of the nurses and hospice staff.   I could smell the distinct smell of disinfectant that came from each different place where she stayed.  I could hear the ventilators and the trachs when I closed my eyes.  I remembered the look on her face and I tried to remember every word she said.  I tried to remember it all. Every bit of it.  It was as if forgetting a single moment of her suffering would mean that it had not mattered.

Of course, I could not keep that up.  My mind did have to stop replaying every little detail.  I had to find a way to move on, because my life kept moving forward with new challenges.  My way to cope was one I had always relied on- I suppressed.  I just didn’t think about it.  I pushed it back into a part of my mind and didn’t let myself consciously think about it.  It was a highly effective, yet very unhealthy strategy for me.  I had been suppressing for most of my life. But this was a lot to suppress.  Unfortunately, the last six years have brought several more traumas that I felt I had to suppress.  All of the suppressing took its toll on me mentally and physically.

I am working on dealing with my emotions in the moment, without suppressing.  Actually, I couldn’t suppress if I wanted to anymore.  So, I cried like a baby for two days over Dunn.  I am slowly coming to terms with it now.  He had a wonderful, long life and died at home where he was happiest.  I am sure he had no complaints.  I will miss his sweet face and his howls for treats whenever I walked in the door.  I know my sister will miss him so much.

Run free, sweet Dunn!  Hmmmm.  That does not quite fit Dunn.  Meander about and sniff freely, sweet Dunn!  We will always love you!