I took this photo this past weekend. As I planted annuals and perennials, my garden fairy, a.k.a Gidget, was always close by.
Yesterday on my blog, I asked the question if pets grieve the loss of another pet. Many responded they felt that they do. I shared the post on Facebook also, where many chimed in. Thank you to everyone who shared stories and their thoughts on a topic that is clearly of interest.
I’m still pondering the question, to which there will likely never be a definitive answer — though I find myself leaning toward feeling that they don’t grieve as we do — not that they don’t feel or notice something has changed — but that they just go through it differently than we do, and perhaps some not at all. I would be curious an animal communicator view of this, and perhaps it can be something I discuss with my animal communicator friend at some point.
But this also got me to thinking about my own grief. It’s been six months since I adopted Gidget. Nine months since I said goodbye to Joie and almost two years since Frankie has been gone.
Grief which can be very personal and so deeply intense for we beings called human, but when joy finds you once again in the form of the love of another dog, I find myself in awe of how we always seem to make the transition.
I also know that some don’t or won’t. The loss too great to consider what it could mean for their heart to open up again and let in the love of another dog.
But this weekend, as Gidget spent much time with me outdoors, I felt my heart doing somersaults over and over again each time I glanced her way. You know, those feelings that all of a sudden come over you that are so magical and joyful that you feel as if you might squeal out loud?
I found myself once again grateful to have found the courage to open my heart again to the love of another dog. Each one, in their own unique and special way has taught me things I don’t think I would have otherwise learned. Each one with a special mission to be a part of my life. To bring me a new joy. To become a part of who I am.