I have been browsing Petfinder every evening looking at dogs for adoption in my area. I’ve narrowed my preferences down to small, short-haired, dog-friendly, playful, house trained (or on the way to it), no health issues, no special needs, and under 4 years old. Based on what I’ve seen in the past week, I should be able to find a dog when I’m ready.
But the truth is, I’m not ready. I’m doing this somewhat obsessive search because I’m trying to fill the hole left in my heart after Snickers died. I don’t want “A Dog”. I want my dog. I want Snickers.
I thought when Snickers died that it might stir up all kinds of grief intermingled with the death of my wife because:
a) Snickers was our dog.
b) Snickers was my last living connection to Ellen.
c) Snickers was my daily companion after Ellen died – every minute, every hour, every day.
I was surprised that this anticipated compound grief never hit me. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent the past 4 years processing my grief for my wife. I still miss her and think of her nearly everyday. But I no longer get hit with wave after wave of sadness.
I realized today that wanting Snickers (and not just another dog) is exactly like wanting Ellen back (and not just another woman).
I recognize there is a vast difference between my dog and my wife. I’m not equating the two in terms of value.
The similarity is that I loved them both. I spent a huge portion of my life loving them and being loved, caring for them and being cared for by them.
I might get another dog. Who knows? It might be soon. It might be down the road.
I won’t be getting another wife.