We took Roxy for a walk the other day through the park. Sydney only got to go to the park twice, as she was sick the rest of her time here. The park wasn’t quite as happy of a place without her. Sydney knew that to go to the park meant time to play with her beloved raquetball.
When we were in India I made the huge mistake of reading something along the lines of the 10 Commandments for dogs or something like that. It talked about how for you, a dog is a mere part of your life, in the midst of everything else that goes on. But for your dog, you are it’s life. It made me feel guilty for those times when I wanted to lay down and watch a movie and they wanted to play or I was in a bad mood when I get home from work and ignored them going crazy at the door out of pure joy that I was home.
Sydney was the definition of loyalty. Roxy has an independent streak, but not Syd. She loved her ball, food, and me. If I went anywhere, Syd was there. In the last week, I was looking for hope, in denial that she wasn’t getting better, and terrified that we wouldn’t find an answer soon enough. “She expected no special treatment. She did not pity herself. She took for granted that she would be able to go on about her accustomed dachshund business and when she found that it was somehow not working well, she made her own adjustments as unobtrusively as she could. It was still the supreme object of her life to see that I was happy.” “Her suffering was a hard thing to watch. She was alone in it, as all creatures, human or animal, are alone in their pain. There is no qualitative or quantitative measurement for pain. It is simply there sharp or dull, shooting or stabbing, bearable or excruciating, local or general, it is unexplained, uninvited, unavoidable. It takes command. It is all-encompassing, implacable, exigent. But of course I am speaking only of what I know of pain.”
Even when Sydney was so tired she rarely moved from the bed, she would wait patiently for me outside the bathroom door whenever I showered. She still got excited when she heard the boys next door bouncing a ball, and would always curl right up next to me when she layed down.
You couldn’t help by love Sydney. The days are lonelier, and the nights are colder without her. She will always be missed, but I am so thankful to have had the joy that she brought for as long as I did.
quote taken from my favorite author. this article greatly shaped by view of animals when I first read it 10 years ago, and hits all the closer to home today