Dear Richard,
you can't believe how much your story had an impact on my heart.
When I was a little boy, my N parents thought a dog was the only "thing" missing in our household..the only accessory left out of THEIR perceived perfect effort at making our family look the part. And so they purchased a beautiful black Labrador for my brother and I.
He did not have a very long life..although during it M learned to watch Tarzan ( in french!) with my brother and I every saturday evening..we were both fascinated with him for that. He was hugable, squeezable..licky and friendly..but most especially he was loving toward us...unlike my parents.
Having this dog seemed to be a last ditch effort on their part to " make us happy" or else...That very summer, my brother and I were taken to visit a boarding school and enrolled for the coming year. We left home..having been ill prepared for such a departure, thinking we would come back soon to our home and our dog.
When we returned, a full month later, N mother had had the dog put down. Just like that..when we, in shock attempted a protest, we were faced with a barrage of her excuses and an order to remain reasonable and understanding. There are of course many other episodes of being put before a fait accompli ..including the story of another dog M2, a beautiful golden Labrador who spent more time with my family, much to the disdain and displeasure of my drug addicted and alcoholic N mother. She hated the dog, and was to my astonishment and bewilderment, bitterly jealous of him!
Both my brother and I were of age to go to University and strangely had not even considered escaping with M2 just in case she did it again. We probably considered this happening again individually, silently..as we were perfectly Voiceless then. And, the inevitable happened..we came home to a drunken/sedated N mother who swore the dog had escaped and hadn't been seen in days...We knew it was a lie and we voicelessly, silently hated N mother..indeed N parents more than ever before but could not express it.
In 1989, I, Nic, had an episode of cancer. I had treatments every day of the week for six weeks. A few years earlier I kept a promise I had made to myself after my mom had my dogs murdered. I had chosen a beautiful German shepherd dog ( they had always been my favourites) and called him B.
B was there with me throughout my illness. He slept with me, ate with me, listened to me..we had a life! When the community nurse came to my home to give me treatments, he eyeballed her until she left. He saw to it that she was nice to daddy! Some days I was so tired he would actually sense it and forego one walk to let me rest a while longer..he really cared, he really understood.
When he died..kidney cancer gone metastatic..he was a sight for sore eyes. From day to day I could see him fading away..I couldn't face it..and when I did it was stoically. You gotta go when you gotta go..blah blah blah!
He died. I didn't feel anything. One morning, a very dear friend at work asked me what was new. I started to tell her about B..her eyes were filling with tears as I spoke..and I completely lost it. A full three days after his passing! Having as a reflex the capacity to auto-criticize myself, I launched into all out war against myself. I loathed the fact that I had had a delayed reaction to my best friend's death! How could I? Maybe I was heartless and self serving after all! Maybe I was all that my N parents said I was...
Those feelings continued for a long time..until I came here and put my finger on my real problem. That I was raised voiceless. I think it is possible to love a pet more than one's own family..if only in appearance. There is a special silent love between beings who can't speak and children/people who don't have a voice. There is an understanding from both of how silence works. Voicelessness is the bad side of silence..but there is beauty in silence..there is sometimes deeper meaning to what is not expressed by words because words can't cover it all. Silence, appropriate, graceful and peaceful silence is the language of the heart. It seems that both you and I have spoken this language to our pets. Perhaps we can find refuge, solace in this silence, comfort in the unspoken yet understood during the difficult times.
I have three dogs now..since B's death..how 'bout you?
Love Nic.
