Early this evening our dog Essa passed quietly from this world. She was quite simply the dog of my dreams and I will miss her. Stoic through chronic conditions of old dog age she was gentle and loving to the end.
Already I feel the absence of our nightly walks. Standing at the end of the driveway looking up at the stars I can feel her in me. She taught me how to be thoughtful and as author James Thurber noted “Dogs are obsessed with being happy”. I witnessed that in her. And that happiness rubbed off on Kim and I.
I made this picture yesterday afternoon. Essa was bright and happy despite severe spinal arthritis, kidney and liver disease, and the march of time on her body. Her fire burned bright despite these setbacks.
Not long afterwards she collapsed in the yard and we took her to the emergency veterinary clinic. A night in the clinic followed and then to our vet where for a time there was a glimmer of hope that she would rally and improve. By morning though she was fading. Lying on the floor of a kennel with closed eyes I did not see her get up again. Her body had enough living.
Kim and I stayed with her awhile in the morning and afternoon and planned to return in the evening when we got the call — a sudden decline and she was dying. Essa passed away just minutes before we arrived. The vet told us she was quiet and didn’t suffer. He body gave up just before her 16th birthday.
There was a skylight over the place where she died and as I looked up at the blue sky I imagined her flying free now unencumbered by her failed body. It’s selfish of me but I wish she had stayed a bit longer.
The house is quiet and the empty place she once occupied is palpable. For those of you who have had dogs living in the home you’ll understand.
I know the sadness will pass and the good memories will take it’s place. But right now that’s hard to believe.
Oh, Steve, I am so very sorry. The same happened to us three weeks ago with our Vicki and still we look for her in the familiar places and start to get up to do the things we did with her regularly only to remember with heavy hearts that she’s gone. I wish for you the peace that comes from knowing that you gave her a good life and from the memories that will remain as treasures.
– Joe at Scootin’ da Valley
So Sorry for your loss. Great companions are hard to come by.
Ride on,
Torch
So sad to hear of the passing of a beloved pet. Sorry for your loss.
It is hard to come up with something appropriate to say, but suffice it to say that my heart goes out to you and your family. We used to have a cat that had this sixth sense to know when you were down or not feeling well. She lived 20 long and wonderful years and she died in my arms one morning about 8 years ago. Pets can be very special and I still fondly remember one of your pictures a few months ago of your dog on one of your walks. The memories will be happy ones.
I don’t even know you, but I want to hug the whole family. It’s so hard to lose them. They just love so unconditionally with hearts too big for their little bodies. Thinking of you and your family.
Your post takes me back to when I went through this in August with my 17 year old Kilroy. It took me many weeks before I started to feel normal at all. All I can say is that each day will get a little easier. Sympathies.
My thoughts are with you, Steve. We recently lost a pet/companion and know how difficult it is.
This is a sad post Steve and I’m very sorry she had to “leave”. I have enjoyed your b&w’s with her and always thought she was a great model, your photos were reflecting a lot of her personality. I’ve been there and I know how you feel as I lost Max who followed me through life for almost 14 years and your post just reminded me it’ll take more years to heal. Loosing my daily routine with him, back then in August 2006, I bought my first Vespa, trying to run away, simply ride and sober up from the pain.
Try to keep yourself occupied, it’s amazing but this sort of pain tends to extract the best of our creativity and imagination. All the rest is on time to do it’s tricks.
Take care.
You know you have my sympathy.
Angelo
Steve, very sorry to hear of your loss. The healing begins soon, may it progress in due order. You were blessed to have her those many years.
I’m so sorry for your loss. No matter how long they live, pets never seem to live long enough. I’m sure you gave her plenty to be happy about.
So sorry to hear this.
I know. I have been there.
Essa is her name.
She was queen of the castle.
She always will be.
Sorry for your loss, Steve. We lost our dog a couple of years ago and only lasted the weekend in that oh, too silent house. Dogs are truly a member of your family. I understand how you feel – and time will help.
Steve,
My sincere condolence to you and your family.
Phil
I’m genuinely sorry to hear this. It’s obvious how much Essa meant to you and I’m really sorry to learn of her passing.
Joe: It is amazing the presence a dog can have. We have been doing the same thing, looking for Essa in all the familiar places. I also found myself missing the talking I would do with her. Saying her name out loud used to fill the house with dog related sound.
It is quiet now.
Torch: Indeed. Good companions are hard to come by.
Danny: Thanks you for your kind words.
cpa3485: Essa was especially tuned into Kim and could determine just what she needed. And me too. We’ll both miss that. Like you said I can already see how many fine memories are flooding in…
Cindy, Libba, Keith: Thank you for your words of sympathy. I appreciate it.
Milos: You’re right about the pain of loss drawing out creative energies. I’ve seen it work before and can feel it happening again now. Not sure why that is. And thank you for all your kind and supportive words.
I haven’t had much desire to ride since this happened. Will ride to work today. Maybe something will change.
Angelo: Thank you.
Dan D: We were blessed with 16 wonderful years with that dog. How much more could we want?
enfanta: A friend told us that it is rare to have a pet outlive you. It’s kind of a sobering thought I guess. But we did have quite a party together Essa and I.
Lucky, Chewy: Thanks for the kind words. I do appreciate them.
Enzo Sica: You’ve summed her up pretty well. Thank you. I’ll make sure Kim sees your poem.
Hope thing are going well on your assignment in Brazil!
Dave Dixon: I’ve been through this emotional event 5 other times as an adult. Each time seems to get worse than the previous one. But I do know that time will convert everything into sweet memories.
Pvino: Thank you for your kind words.
Ade: I suppose the worst thing is the occasional thoughts or pangs of regret at not having gone on more walks or given her more treats. Though as we packed up her stuff we were both surprised at how many treats she had…
Dear Steve:
We deeply regret the passing of your friend Essa. A dog is a possession who possesses you… A companion who’s daily demands are minimal but who spends his or her life looking up at you with reassurance… A source of life and energy… And occasionally, protection from the things that only dogs can see and hear in the night.
They leave behind a presence in the endless sounds of nails clicking on the floor, the feel of a sympathetic muzzle in your hand, and the comfort of knowing there is always somebody home. If dogs had a common message, it would be, “Mutual regard is lighter than air, and rises above everything else.”
It’s hard to lose a family member that has never thought of criticizing anything you’ve ever done.
My old friend Rusty Mulvey had a golden retriever named “Beau.” Beau retrieved pheasant by instinct. He once found a cockbird living under an assumed name two towns over. When Beau’s time was all used up, Rusty buried him in an armchair the dog was never allowed to sit on. And he took Beau’s collar and hung it in a window with a western exposure. For a year, it caught the last rays of every setting sun.
I hope you will show us morel of Essa’s pictures. And if there aren’t a lot of those, we’d still like to hear about the amazing things she did, the way she ran in the yard, or spilled her water when she drank. And if you’d like, send us a picture of the setting sun as seen through her collar.
There is a collar on the lamp of my desk as I write this. It reminds me of all the good there is in dogs– every day.
Sincerely,
Jack Riepe
Steve,
May you find peace and knowing Essa is in a better place. Get back on your scooter and make a picture special ride dedicated to Essa memory.
Phil
Beautiful Face. Hopefully they will be happier where they go after this place on earth.
We are also waiting on our Nugget to go anytime now as well but he is holding on.Goldens only go about 11-12 years and so our dog fits the pattern.
Still wakes up for chow time though lol The other two dogs look at him wondering whats going on with him.They are such a family.We put down foam for him to sleep on but he prefers the floor.Go figure.
Nothing we can do. Old age creeps up on all of us.
Essa is gone
but her Essence
lives on
in you.
Creative spark,
why cold and dark
when one you love
is buried?
It’s the nature
of Life
that Love and Art~
twin flames of the heart~
pay homage, resonate
as one, forever married.
Sorry to hear that you’ve lost a loved one. Been there. With pets we are changed. Without them we are never quite the same. When you’re ready, hopefully you’ll be able to open your heart to another…
We are dealing with an aged dog now whose medical condition is sometimes touch and go. We are preparing ourselves but when they do, one never really is…
Steve, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. My heartfelt condolences to you and your family.
One of my favorite pictures of yours is one of Essa in the snow. It is “essa_snowportrait.jpg”.
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wlpGtqH9Z7U/RduDI16KvEI/AAAAAAAAAN4/TzrcWpBa0yA/s1600-h/essa_snowportrait.jpg
-Alan
“My words are insufficient to the burden of my heart.” I know what you’re going through, and I feel for you. May time bring you relief from your pain, as it did for Essa. She’ll be waiting for you to cross that rainbow bridge to walk through the gates of heaven at your side. At least I hope so, because I miss my dog Boo Boo too.
Dave T.
Steve:
I only have saddness in my heart for our dog who passed away suddenly a few years ago. Our second dog is also having problems so I can only say that I share in your sorrow. I still remember those wagging tails every time I come home, but are now only a faint memory.
sorry for your loss
bob
bobskoot: wet coast scootin
Jack: Thank you for your comments. Kim and I have two collars that Essa wore and we like the idea of hanging one in the window looking west to the sunset. The other is destined for a collage I think.
The absence of Essa sounds, the clicking of nails, breathing, moving about and the words we spoke to her now make the house amazingly quiet. But her spirit lingers.
It’s hard to lose a family member that has never thought of criticizing anything you’ve ever done.
That’s the truth. Dogs are amazing creatures. Kim says it is magical how two completely different species can form such an intense and connected bond.
I have so many pictures of Essa. More probably than I do of the Vespa. Not sure what I’ll do with them.
Pvino: Maybe I will make a memorial ride. Not sure what that would be or how I would document it. Something to think about. Thanks!
A Lady’s Life: I hope that Essa has gone to a better place. And that one day I’ll see her again.
Penny: Thank you. Your poem captures the thoughts and feelings that run through this time.
Sojourner Rides: Kim and I knew this day would come. With a 16 year old dog her size it was like she was living on borrowed time. But as you say even though we sort of steeled ourselves you are never really prepared. But already the memories and some time are softening the experience for me at least.
Alan: I love that picture too. I have many of her in the snow, covered in white like a sugar coated doughnut. She loved the snow, even in old age.
David: Thank you for you kind words. Time heals all wounds they say though perhaps not completely. Kim and I talk about the dog and are remembering good things. Those memories are a blessing now.
bobskoot: I can still see wagging tail and smiling face. The memories are bright and fresh right now. All the photos will help keep them clear as time dims them.
We know we will all die. And some of us also know our ailments will shorten
our once possible longer lives.
Family pets have no such instinct. They are there for us, to their very end.
I have always been a cat person and presently without any pet. Ironically the neighbourhood dogs and cats know me; I am the one that always has biscuits for dogs
or kibble for cats in my pockets.
When I was 7 our small dog died. It was a small dog, a pincher (I do not know the exact spelling) . It was more than50 years ago, but I still remember how much and how long I cried for him.
I feel sorry for your loss.
robert blu (from RFF)
Condolences on your loss. Our pet cat of 17 years passed on a few weeks ago. I understand your grief.
Steve,
Sorry to hear of your loss. Can’t think of what I will do when my best friend and I have to part. I’m sending you this poem and I hope it helps,
Best regards,
(M)
Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
Author unknown
Bryce: Thank you for the comments and reminder. I used to travel with dog biscuits in my pocket. As a photographer making farm visits I was often confronted by packs of dogs. Biscuits eased the arrival.
Now without a dog perhaps they will allow me a bit of entree with other dogs…
robert blu: I understand. I still remember how I felt at the loss of every dog I’ve had if I want to bring it back…
DenK: Thank you for your support.
imrahil: What a wonderful picture the Rainbow Bridge poem paints. I like to think that Essa is happy now and playing with other dogs just as she did when she was in her prime.
Thank you for those images.
Steve, my deepest sympathies. Pets are truly the ones who are always there for us, no matter what. Take care.
Orin: Thank you. It still amazes me how much the presence of a dog in the house made me feel good. With her physical presence gone now the house is a different place.
I read this post minutes after you posted it, but couldn’t comment till now.
So sad, like the loss of a friend, and I sadly know that.
But this is life; people die, friends die, pets die and everything decay.
It’s just a matter of accepting it as part of nature’s life cycle.
I’m sure that nice memories will soon replace these sad thoughts.
What about a commemorative ride?
a warm hug.
Ale-
I just found your blog today because I’m contemplating a 2007 LX 150. Your post about your pup is so sweet, I just had to thank you. I have a lab/aussie mix, Andy, who’s going on 15, and every day I have him is a gift. Thank you for this lovely remembrance of your friend.
Ths sadness never passes.
Sorry for your loss, have been there myself.