My childhood dog, Sawyer, passed away in April 2023. He was a beautiful and strong German shepherd, 12-years-old, and fiercely protective. He hated literally all of my friends, but was the sweetest boy once you got past his tough exterior. He loved tummy rubs, chasing after a ball (but never returning it), and eating peanut butter. He watched me grow up just as much as I watched him. Whenever I was home alone, I felt completely safe knowing he was there to protect me.
Losing Sawyer was my first real experience with grief. Looking back, what stands out the most is how quickly it all happened. Though his energy had noticeably declined in his last year, he remained strong and resilient. Watching him grow weaker and lose his appetite was a heartbreaking experience, especially because he never showed any signs of vulnerability. On his last day, I had to hold his hips up to help him walk, pleading with him to eat and drink. He spent that entire night outside, and I checked on him every hour to make sure he was still breathing. It snowed in the morning and we put a blanket on him, and I will never forget the sight of my poor little puppy lying there under the blanket. When we took him to the vet and they told us they had to put him down, it was almost a relief because I saw how much pain he was in and didn’t want him to feel that anymore.
Even so, after he passed, I was completely crushed. I couldn’t think about him without breaking into tears. I knew we had given him an amazing life that he wouldn’t have gotten if we hadn’t adopted him, but after his death, all I could remember of him was when he was weak and in pain. My mom and I would go on walks, but they felt lonely without him leading the way. To help cope, I wrote a list of my favorite things about him: the soft fur behind his ears, his tiny front teeth, his one white toenail on each paw, his blonde and black eyelashes, his grey chin, the way he stretched, his dangly toes on his hind legs, the bump on the top of his nose where his fur grew in the opposite direction, and so much more. Shifting my focus to these details, rather than his final moments, made it easier to process my grief.
I couldn’t ever fathom getting a new dog that I would love as much as Sawyer. The idea of getting a new dog felt like moving on from him — almost like a betrayal. I also didn’t want to go through the pain of losing another pet anytime soon. But in Sept. 2023, just five months later, my sister unexpectedly adopted a puppy. Mila, a German Shepherd mix, was only a few months old when she came home. Having a new puppy at home was obviously extremely exciting, but every time I pet her or took her on a walk, I couldn’t help but compare her to Sawyer. At first, I really couldn’t feel any love at all for her. It felt like she had no personality. I spoke to my sister about this too, and she admitted she initially felt the same way.Â
I felt guilty for not immediately loving her. She was such a sweet puppy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t Sawyer. It made the transition incredibly difficult. But after nearly a year of living with her, something changed. Mila completely lost her appetite and started losing weight rapidly. All of my emotions from when Sawyer got sick came rushing back. We took her to the vet repeatedly, but they just kept saying that she didn’t like the food we were giving her. She kept getting skinnier, and I grew terrified that she wouldn’t make it.Â
Then, after a night of non-stop vomiting, my mom and sister rushed her to the vet, where an X-ray revealed she had been living with a large rock in her stomach. The animal hospital said she needed emergency surgery, and her chances of survival were only 50%. I couldn’t be there, but I was overwhelmed with anxiety, just trying to stay hopeful. Thankfully, the surgery was a success, and they assured us she would be back to her normal, healthy self in no time.Â
Almost losing Mila made me realize just how much I love her. It also helped me understand that loving her doesn’t mean I’m forgetting or replacing Sawyer. Now, I compare them in ways that bring me comfort rather than sadness. In this time where many of our childhood dogs are passing away, it is important to remember to give yourself time and space to grieve, and that anger, sadness, and guilt are all valid parts of the process.Â
I once read an analogy about grief that deeply resonated with me. Imagine life as a closed box, grief as a ball inside the box, and a pain button on one side. When you first experience the loss, the ball is large, constantly hitting the pain button. But over time, the ball shrinks. It still hits the button occasionally but less frequently and with less force. This perfectly describes my journey with losing Sawyer. Now, when I think of him, I feel warmth and love rather than overwhelming sadness. And I know that, no matter what, he will always hold the most special place in my heart.