My sister had to have her beloved Havanese Elphie (short for Elphaba, the character in “Wicked”) euthanized early this morning just after midnight. That’s not Elphie above, but it’s close: I don’t have a picture of her.
I’ve dreaded this day for my little sister almost from the moment she brought Elphie home as a puppy 16 years ago. My sister not only had never owned (or lived with) a dog before; she had been phobic about dogs her entire life, an unfortunate mindset she inherited from my mother. But true to her defiant, determined character, once my sister, divorced after a miserable marriage, knew that both of her children would be moving far away from the D.C. area, she set out to become a dog owner. “I’m not going to come home to an empty house every day,” she told me, “and for once, I want to have someone close who is always happy to see me.”
She researched dogs for a full year (“Dogs 101” on the Animal Planet channel was a crucial resource), ultimately deciding on the Havanese, the Cuban bichon, as the ideal “starter dog.” It was a wise choice, as the breed is small, friendly, devoted to its owner and innately adorable. I was amazed how quickly the little dog made a positive difference in my sister’s life and whole outlook on life. Always insecure and prone to depression, she seemed happy literally for the first time since childhood. Within months my sister went from being a dog owner to a dog nut, learning all the breeds, bonding with the last two dogs Grace and I owned (sweet Rugby and then Spuds), and vastly enlarging her circle of friends by meeting the other dog owners in her neighborhood, and my sister had never had a large number of friends before, and often none at all.
She found herself charmed and fascinated by the canine traits we dog-lovers have long known about; far from being terrified of dogs, as she had always been before, now she became an expert in dog relations. I watched with shock one day at the dog park when she became concerned about a large , scary-looking dog (I was certain that it was a wolf-dog mix) that appeared to be searching for its owner. My sister knelt down, talked comfortingly to this thing that looked like it had eaten Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, read its tag and began leading the dog around the park until it saw its owner.
Elphie passed her 16th birthday at the end of last year, and my sister knew that the metaphorical clock was running out. A few days ago her dog was uncharacteristically sluggish, and when she took Elphie to the vet, got bad news: the dog was suffering from internal bleeding, and the reason was unclear. Late last night, she learned that a second blood transfusion hadn’t helped, and faced with the choice of having her sole companion of 16 years euthanized immediately or hoping that her dog wouldn’t suffer too much or die alone over night, my sister drove to the vet’s office to be with Elphie in her last moments.
My sister has never gone through this, having never loved an animal before. I’ve been through it six times, and thinking about any one of those terrible episodes can make me tear up. When I talk to my sister today, if she lets me, I will do what I can to make her feel a little better and especially to gird her for the interactions with the inevitable “It’s only a dog” people.
Elphie, meanwhile, had as wonderful a life as a dog can have. She made a tremendous difference in her owner’s life, a miraculous difference, just by providing unambiguous unconditional love on someone who had always felt unlovable. Because of her, my younger sister not only became happier and more socially active, she also was a better friend, colleague, neighbor, mother and family member, and, I am confident, will remain so, because I will make certain that Elphie has an appropriate successor.
Thanks, Elphie. Mission accomplished.
Ethics Alarms 
My heart breaks for your sister. She gave a home to Elphie, loved her and made one of the hardest decisions a pet owner can make.
Perhaps, when she is ready at some point in the future, she can give a home to another precious dog. They demand so little of us and give so much in return.
Great tribute!
Family pets are a Society Subset: The Building Blocks for Family Traditions.
Beautiful tribute, Jack. My heartfelt condolences to your sister. We lost our beloved Lucy almost a year ago; it’s a brutally tough time and I’m sorry your sister has to go through it. In the words of CS Lewis: “The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That’s the deal.”
My deepest sympathies; the worst part of dog partnership.
” ‘The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That’s the deal.’ ”
Put another way: “The cost of all that unconditional love and companionship comes due all at once” or “the pain reminds you that the joy you felt was real“
Having experienced both, it’s hard to say whether it being planned or it happening all of a sudden…on YOUR WATCH…is worse.
PWS
Our 4-legged family members have a way of burying into our hearts and souls…staying their long after they’ve passed on. For the future, a local organization called “Lap of Love” sends a caring vet person to your home when it’s time to say goodbye to a a much loved fur ball. It was the sweetest goodbye ever when we had to bid farewell to our 17 year old kitty. The gal sat and talked with us about Phred until we were ready…no time constraints. As he rested in his favorite chair, she stroked his head as if he had been hers No trauma of driving him to the vet and the fee was very reasonable…much less than the typical vet services in that area. It’s truly a labor of love for these folks.
I’m sure this is terrible for your sister. I hope she is OK with it. I always looked at this as the ultimate, but necessary, betrayal. When my elderly cat was dying of lung cancer (he was a smoker with a previous owner), I took him to the vet. All previous times he had gone to the vet sick, ‘I’ made him better. He looked at me with hopeful eyes that I would, yet again, make him better. Instead, I had them kill him. I don’t know how it is with dogs, but with cats, they don’t finish the injection before they die. He just immediately stopped, with his eyes still looking at me. I am still kind of haunted by it. I have an elderly cat who is losing weight and horribly arthritic. I dread what may be coming.
Remy sends his deepest, sincerest condolences, and hopes that Elphie is chasing squirrels and cats in Doggie Heaven.
jvb
She was afraid of cats, and ignored squirrels, but she really loved chasing rabbits….
Jack I am so sorry for your sister’s loss. As a dog professional I see every day how these beautiful and sometimes complicated relationships with dogs can change a person and a family. One of my favorite posts about a dog’s passing is by Brant Hansen. While the sentiments in the piece have a faith-based tone, I think many can appreciate the universal themes when it comes to this topic.
There is No “Just a Dog” | BrantHansen.com
I hope sometime in the not-too-distant future your sister rises a little out of her grief and the thought that dogs are not like humans in that you can get another one pops into her head, and she gets her next dog.
Mrs. OB and I are currently off dogs and have been for a few years after decades of dogs dating back to our first one together and our then young children in 1979. (A tremendous Airedale, Pokey, as in “The Pokey Little Puppy,” which the kids had read. Unfortunately, Pokey survived Parvo at an early age but only lasted five years before her liver gave out. By the way, her formal name on her AKC registry was “Dawson’s Biff Pocaroba,” which was meaningless nonsense insofar as we’d had her spayed.) At our advanced age, putting dogs down is just too hard. As the late, great, Sam Kinison said in his routine, “Oh, dogs are great! … and then, (screaming) THEY DIE!”
Biff Pocaroba was a baseball player who got a cup of coffee with the Atlanta Braves back in the early 80s. I don’t even remember what position he played (or if he ever got on the field), but he was in the team photo, so that counts for something.
Joel wins the prize, ladies and gentlemen! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Pretty sure Biff was a second baseman, definitely for Los Bravos. This was back when TBS broadcast the Braves nationwide and ESPN was in its infancy, broadcasting water skiing from Silver Springs, Florida. The Skip Caray era. “Andy Griffith is next.” As I recall, Biff was around for most of a season.
…and I still have that team photo. Skip Caray was a classic. I recall one game – when the Braves were horrible – where he said, “And like lambs being led to slaughter, the Braves take the field.”
Skip was one-of-a-kind.
My favorite memory of his dad was when late in a Cubs game broadcast on WGN when the Northsiders’ pitching staff was foundering, Harry moaned, “Can’t ANYBODY on this TEAM get an OUT?!”
A little levity is in order: Bing Videos Long live Junior.
A high school buddy had a King Charles Spaniel, Sammy. Amazingly, my buddy survived Sammy’s passing.
These entries always remind me of Bailey, who we lost close to three years ago. While her memory is tinged with sadness (I’ll never not miss her), it’s mostly nostalgic with a return of the happy memories she brought. I’m so sorry for your sister, because right now, there’s very little nostalgia and happiness…and a whole lot of grief. It just takes time for that transition to occur, and it never fully happens.
You can train dogs to be somewhat less aggressive, you can teach them tricks, and you can train them to let you know when they have to go to the bathroom, but you don’t really change a dog…the dog changes you.
Your sister and I share much in common. Elphie was her first pet…Bailey mine. I had a modest fear of dogs as well, which I also got from my mother. Bailey, like Elphie, changed that. I shifted from a middle-aged man with no love – and precious little time – for dogs to a person that loved one deeply. And with Bailey gone, that love has continued to grow. Neighbor dogs get as much affection as I can give them. We continue to buy Bailey’s favorite dog treats and hand them out to nearly every pup we encounter (if the owners are cool with it).
I don’t know about ethics lessons, but I have to believe those are developed during pet ownership, too. I care far more about animal care, animal well-being, and responsible upbringing by other owners than I ever did before Bailey. I think I learned as much about unconditional love and acceptance from Bailey as I have from any human. I bet your sister has experienced some of these things, and maybe others my brain and fingers can’t rightly enumerate.
But right now, she will just grieve. She will cry in her chair like I did. She will cry in the shower like I did. She will cry when she thinks of the bed where Elphie slept, as I did. And where she ate and played, like I did. Maybe she’ll hear Dailey & Vincent sing “On the Other Side” and think of Elphie every time…and cry (the way I did every time I heard it…for quite a while). And that’s totally appropriate and good.
Bailey loved small dogs, so I’m hopeful she’s up there, showing Elphie around and introducing her to lots of other friends, like Stella, and Murphy, and who knows how many others.
I’m sobbing reading Jack’s wonderful tribute to Elphie, and then everyone’s bittersweet stories of their own pets in the comments. We’ve lost six dogs over the years, and each time we thought we’d never recover from the loss. And then we’d find out about a dog that needed rescue, a sweet, precious soul that needed lots of love…and boy, we had lots of love to give.
Our two girls now are rescues, both surviving owners who left permanent scars physically…one we thought wouldn’t recover from the mental/emotional scars…but shockingly, with enough love, patience and gentleness, we’ve erased those terrible first years of pain. It’s unfathomable to me that anyone could hurt a living creature, especially a dog. But it happens, and dogs are capable of forgiving so much, and living in the moment, far more than most humans. I learn great lessons from them on a daily basis.
My heart breaks for your sister, who has lost a soulmate. I pray she finds another soon, someone else to love, confide in, get exercise with, cultivate more friendships with, cherish. I’m grateful that she has Jack as her big brother, a thoroughly good person, and an incredible dog lover, who will never say “ it’s just a dog, get over it”.
Please send our heartfelt condolences, and know that we are giving our girls extra treats today in honor of Elphie. May she be safely chasing rabbits over the rainbow bridge, and playing with Rugby and all the other fantastic dogs who have known your love.
Yes, great tribute. It provoked the memory of the time Jimmy Stewart read his poem on Johnny Carson about his dog Beau.
https://youtu.be/mwGnCIdHQH0?si=hNgU7S7bpQADqpQj
Having gone through this grief when my our best friend, K.C., died, a fellow dog-lover gave me a book for comfort. It was Eugene O’Neil’s The Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog. It is a wonderful book and, considering the literary accomplishments of the author, a very special expression of love with which all dog lovers can identify.
I continued this gift to others who lost their cherished best canine friends. As I did, I added more books to the gift, depending on the age of the recipient. If you are interested in picking up this habit, the book collection, in addition to the O’Neill book, follows:
Good Dog. Stay. by Anna Quindlen
Dog Heaven by Cynthia Rylant
I Will See You in Heaven by Friar Jack Wintz
Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates by Gary Kurz
Goodbye, Friend by Gary Kowalski
Signs From Pets In The Afterlife by Lyn Ragan
The Pet Loss Companion by Ken Dolan-Del Vecchio & Nancy Saxton-Lopez
The Compassion of Animals by Kristin von Kreisler
Best to avoid the “It’s just a dog” people.
Not just now.
But always.
Sad but true.
But my mother was one of those people…
Have you read Kipling on the subject?
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear