Believe it or not, I used to publish personal posts here about my family, pets, hobbies, etc. But I found it less and less possible to do that because so many people want to invade the privacy of my loved ones in inappropriate ways. But tonight I’ll make an exception for someone special.
My 11 year-old Labrador Retriever, Gede, is in failing health. She’s a yellow Lab, with the sweetest, kindest disposition. Never met anyone she didn’t like, especially if they had a treat for her. She was a little smaller than the average Lab, so our breeder gave her to us because we wanted a dog whose disposition and size wouldn’t overwhelm our kids (when we had them). We got her when she was eight weeks old and we could hold her as a tiny ball of fur in one hand. By the time she was mature, she’d been so well trained (which wasn’t just due to a good trainer, but rather Gede’s incredible quickness and smartness in picking up her lessons) that we could walk her everywhere without a leash.
My wife’s uncle, who’s a great joker at heart, came to visit and offered her one of his highest compliments:
That dog doesn’t know she’s a dog, she thinks she’s a person.
I remember when we brought our first son home, at the dog trainer’s suggestion, I put the baby’s cradle down on the floor and then let Gede enter the room. She proceeded to come over to sniff and lick our son, who probably didn’t relish the idea. Little did Gede know, but she’d have to share us with the newborn. But she was such a kindly, gentle dog that she never held anything against anyone. You could step on her foot, the babies would try to ride her as if she was a pony. She suffered through it all with great dignity.
She has the most soulful brown eyes and if a dog can think deep thoughts she did. Maybe they weren’t deep in the human sense but she had so much soul. A Great Dog Soul.
But now her abdomen is filling with fluid and she’s in great discomfort. She may have an adrenal tumor or end-stage kidney failure. We don’t know. But our vet tells us that so much fluid in a dog’s abdomen is a sign of something seriously (meaning, terminally) wrong. So we plan to put her to sleep tomorrow morning.
My wife keeps saying: “She’s my baby,” because we got Gede before we had our first child. In fact, her name means “first-born” in Balinese. We’d spent our honeymoon on Bali and met a young boy visiting a temple who’d been so irrepressibly happy and joyful to meet us, sticking out his hand in a very western gesture of friendship, that we named our dog after him (probably not a great honor in Balinese culture, but we meant it so).
So tomorrow she will be gone. But we will not forget.
As I was making these sad plans today, I heard the following radio show, Two Enemies, One Heart, on KUOW here in Seattle and it changed my disposition entirely. It is the story of two men, one Iraqi and one Iranian, who met on the battlefield during the Iran-Iraq war. The Iranian saved the Iraqi’s life and did so almost at the cost of his own. Both of them ended up at different times as prisoners of war. One imprisoned for 17 years and the other for over two years. Both suffered immense deprivation, one lost a fiancé in a bombing and the other came home and couldn’t find his wife or child whom he’d left behind to go to war.
Both of them, unbeknownst to the other, ended up migrating after their respective lives filled with horrors, to Vancouver, BC. The Iranian, in despair after escaping from Iran and not knowing how to deal with his new-found freedom in the west, attempts suicide. By some absolute miracle, they both end up in the waiting room of a clinic which provides therapy for torture survivors. Through tentative chit-chat and then rushing questions and wild gesticulations, they come to understand that they are long-lost brothers in arms. That is how the Iranian saved the Iraqi’s life during the war, and the Iraqi saved the Iranian’s life after the war.
This is a truly brilliant piece of radio journalism. Not only do I strongly recommend it–I’d say the only reason not to listen is if you’re the happiest, best adjusted human being in the entire world. If you’re not, then you need cheering up and this will make you realize that the human species is truly capable of greatness, especially in the midst of the absolute horrors that we can inflict on each other.
And if another reader here says a word about how primitive Middle Eastern culture is I might just ring their necks (but no, that would violate the spirit of this story)–or force them to listen to this. These two men have hearts big enough to encompass an entire world.
Sincere condolences on the passing of Gede. I know what it’s like to have to put down a pet.
What a beauty,
wish you fortitude for the inevitable moment.
Very sorry about Gede. I know how hard it is to put down a beloved pet (who mean so much more than the word “pet” can convey). Courage.
My deepest condolences, I also have dogs and we all fear that day when our pets will be gone.
Two lovely and sad stories — about Gede and about the two men. Courage in your sadness about Gede. It’s always very difficult.
My feelings go out to you all. I know how hard that is, putting a well-loved pet to sleep. I had to do the same for my 18 year old cat a year back and still have twinges of grief. But it’s the right thing. God bless.
I’m very new to your blog. I read it every morning now. I’ve long been fascinated by the mess in the mideast and I’m enjoying your insight & thoughtful writing.
I’m sorry about Gede. I’ve had to put a couple of cats to sleep. You know it’s for the best but it still hurts.
I’ll mourn her with you.
This was just beautiful. My heart goes out to Gede, you and your family.
I returned to say that I’m saddened by the suffering of your precious Gede, and was touched by the article…both parts of it.
Thanks to everyone for their consolation. Gede and I appreciate it very much. Such hard things we have to do in life sometimes.
I want to join everyone else in offering condolences about your dog. I’ve been there and know just how you feel.
Sorry for the loss of your beloved friend Richard. Unfortunately, this is always what it comes to. I know the feeling.
A beautiful story
I know how you feel. Our 15 year old Jammie is the same dog in the same situation.
I’m sorry, Richard. What a terribly sad decision to have to make.
Condolences on your loss. I remember Baba called the vet who recommended putting down our cat, who was sick. It was a sorrowful time.
Every soul will taste death.
My sincere condolences, Richard. I had a cat named Milo for 16 years. He contracted cancer. My wife and I spent thousands on chemo. His condition never improved, and in the end, we had to put him down. I really loved that cat. That was one of the saddest days of my life.
Heartfelt sympathy for your loss of this dear girl Gede.
It takes a lot of courage to spare her further suffering -to do this most difficult duty.
Previous experiences taught me not to hold on to a beloved dog too long, and over the years, I’ve had to do that deed 3 other times, with #4, my sweetest girl ever, Honey, a rescued Basenji/Corgie mix, now almost 15 with a small abdominal mass. I understand & commiserate & send my condolences to you and the family.
I had a dear friend named Teensie, who when I met her nearly 40 years ago was an illiterate black teenager from West Virginia who didn’t even know her birthday so we just made one up for her. She seemed to love our dogs and cats more than she loved most people in her life, and she would always say when one of our pets died that he or she had gone to dog or cat heaven. I suppose it’s a silly notion, but it’s always comforted me when I’ve had to say goodbye to a beloved pet to imagine that maybe there just might be such a place where they are all running around young and strong and free.
How blessed for Gede to have been such an beloved part of your family, and how blessed you all have been to have had such an extraordinary dog! Time heals all wounds, but we never forget those pets that have brought us so much love and companionship. Sending love and healing thoughts your way.
re: the uncle’s comment, Dog’s, and maybe all animals, are “people” in the deepest, best sense of the word.
How few people behave as well as dogs, are as forgiving and open hearted? Luckily, these two men had hearts and memories as open, smart and warm as Gede’s. That’s what saved them both times.
How lucky we are to have such examples of pure, loving generosity and acceptance to live with and learn from.
Richard, my heart felt condolences for the loss of your faithful and loving dog Gede. I had and sill have cats and went – and will again go – through the same wrenching end ritual. Sometimes, when the world is a total mess I pause for a while to watch my cats play or just chill out, and it can be immensely comforting to know that there’s another dimension. We know there’s spirit in the world from our children when they are young, and our pets, and the occasional nature story about the amazing secret lives of animals not many of us get to watch in their natural state. The moment before we rationalize the how’s and why’s of everything, we sense the presence of spirit – and since it cannot be articulated we brush the moment aside, often all too soon. A life fulfilled in the moment – as Gede got to experience – no doubt at every moment of her life – is not something that our ultra-complex lives in the emotionally busy world of humans allows us to experience very often.
Through our pets, be they dogs, cats horses or even fishies, we are given the gift of, once in awhile, touching the infinite. That is probably part of the reason that we domesticated some animals (such as dogs and cats) early on in the dawn of humanity. A counter-point – and a necessary add-on to evolution. We bond because of mutual need, which to the humans is spiritual, and to them – well, far be it from me to speculate.
It is not surprising that we should so bond with members of another species – whatever the relationship is. It is only natural to grow immensely attached to those who bring the best out in us. We, pet owners, and animal care takers of all kinds, would like nothing better than to be able to be that which they seem to see in us, to be the benevolent being deserving of such devotion.
And part of what our pets give us, the final lesson – and gift to us – is the chance to understand and come to terms with mortality. I often felt that one of life’s great injustices is that our precious pets don’t get to live as long as we do. But lately I think perhaps the reverse is true. Look Richard, even your greatest critics will pause for a moment and offer shared sorrow. And that, in a crazy world in which we are doomed to go around in circles, craving justice but seeing not nearly enough, is not a small blessing.
Gede’s peaceful passing, and accepting your painful role in it, is her final gift to you. may she rest in peace and her memory be an echo of bliss – bringing a touch of lightness to your – and your family’s – life as you all go onward with it.
Richard, I am so very sorry for your loss. Despite our differences, believe me when I say that I know and understand the pain of losing a beloved pet. It is just like losing a child. Please accept my sincerest, heartfelt condolences.
Thanks, very kind of you.
i believe adonai will receive gede with open arms
My condolences to you and your family.
A few summers ago I had to make the same terrible decision. Even now I cry when I think of my dog and wonder if there wasn’t more that I should have done. Dogs are the gentlest of souls; they teach us what unconditional love is. I wish you sincere condolences and thank you for reminding us time and time again that there is hope for peace even in Palestine.
Thank you for yr heartfelt words.
I felt to get back to this thread, because last night we had to put one of our 12 yr old to sleep, it came so sudden…too sudden.
So much pain so much anguish. Life doesnt feel the same anymore.
I’m so sorry that after writing your kind comment above you had to actually go through the experience I wrote about with Gede. Be comforted by your memories of your dog.