Where Does a Dog go When They Die?

Background

Good old trusty. Though she was a 13-pound peakapoo, her namesake was the old baritone bloodhound from Lady and the Tramp (that’s another story). We found her after responding to a classified ad for the only hypoallergenic dogs we could find, which was a requirement in our home. The “breeder” introduced us to a variety of mutts of different sizes and ages. She pointed out the black one with the white face that appeared to be protecting the only puppy in the group, almost as an afterthought. We knew the timid little misfit was the perfect fit for our family. We found out later, through the local news, that the breeders were quite the opposite of reputable, which we expect may have explained some of Trusty's initial wariness. One of my favorite memories was the morning after we brought her home. It was as if she came to life. She was surrounded by us three ecstatic kids giving her a milk bone, and her tail was wagging so vigorously the whole bottom half of her body wagged with it as she sneezed with excitement. It was pure happiness for 10-year-old me, and I liked to imagine is was for Trusty too.

The Essence of the Dog

If dogs can be introverts, Trusty was one. She was quirky, gentle, and almost polite, preferring to be on the periphery, always near us, but content to be the observer. She enjoyed brief displays of affection and attention, and enthusiastically greeted the family upon each return home before retreating into the background. Trusty slept perched behind the railing at the top of the stairs where she could keep a watchful eye over the comings and goings of the house. She responded to any bumps in the night (or teenager returning past curfew) with a low rumble of a growl before investigating. She was a protector by nature. We had a tiny yellow canary that would occasionally escape his cage during cleaning and always gravitate toward Trusty. The first time he landed directly in front of her, my breath caught, not knowing what her reaction would be. She lowered her head and gently sniffed him, ultimately allowing him to perch on her back, which he did each time he escaped. She rarely did anything "wrong" and appeared to be ashamed whenever she did. Though she did have a penchant for eating the baby Jesus from our Christmas manger scene on the fire place more than once.

Anecdote

We imagine Trusty loved Christmas time, as she changed her “spot” from the back of the couch to be next to the tree or by the fire. One year, I was telling my mom how I must have brought a Christmas cookie to bed in a sleepy stupor because there was one under my pillow. Her eyes widened as she explained she found one under hers too. We kept our frosted cut out cookies on a plastic wrapped plate on the dining room table. One day the family was packed in the car about to leave when I realized I forgot my phone. I ran back inside and stopped in my tracks when I saw Trusty standing on the dining room table, poised over the plate of cookies. She froze, as if I might not see her. I summoned my parents, brother and sister inside and we were all doubled over laughing. We determined Trusty had been hiding cookies in our beds, as my brother also found one in his. The cookies were fully intact, occasionally a piece would break off during delivery but it would still be with the rest of the cookie. We joked that she intended them to be our Christmas gifts, as she never actually ate them, because it just seemed like something she’d do.

Her Last Moments

In 2011, 10 days before Christmas, we had to make the decision that every dog lover dreads: to put our sweet 13 year-old dog down the following morning. She had declined rapidly over a few months. She seemed to wither overnight, and was incessantly licking her frail body in attempt to soothe her discomfort. She still kept watch at the top of the stairs, but would be up all hours of the night roaming around. Sometimes we’d find her downstairs in the corner just staring at the wall, as if it was an obstacle she couldn’t get past. We decided the sleep and pain medication prescribed to her was only delaying the inevitable. On her final night, my sister and I decided to stay up with her in shifts. We had blankets laid out between the Christmas tree and the fireplace, making a cozy nest for her. My sister was asleep on the couch and I was lying behind Trusty (big spoon if you will). My heart hurt watching her stare at the fire taking deep labored breaths. When her breaths became shallow and sporadic I knew it was her time. She was still staring into the fire when she suddenly lifted her head and looked back at me, directly in my eyes. She knew. It was as if she was looking for reassurance. Through tears I whispered that it was okay, telling her I was here and giving her “permission” to go- she took one last inhale and her breathing abruptly stopped and she became perfectly still as the life left her tired little body. I’ll never forget that moment. It was jarring, but somehow peaceful to witness the spirit of this loved creature depart from our world. Ultimately, I am grateful to have had the privilege to be with Trusty in her last moments. She helped me recognize the fragility of life that I often refused to acknowledge. Many times throughout the year, something reminds me of the moments of joy Trusty brought us and I share those stories, or just smile to myself. I still get choked up once or twice when I’m enjoying the fire and the Christmas tree. Trusty’s short time here mattered.

Magic and Light and all that is Right

There’s an inexplicable element to dogs that can’t be wholly attributed to domestication. If you think about it, or do the research, there’s no clear definitive reason humans and dogs have had the relationship they’ve had for more than ten thousand years. A good dog will change your life. A dog doesn’t care who you are, what you look like, or what you’ve done. They may be the only beings capable of purely unconditional love. They are a little bit magic, otherworldly. All I know, is when a dog dies, that can’t be it for them. At the very least- to those that love them- dogs live forever.