A Heart-Dog is Forever
A memorial diamond provides a sparkling tribute to a beloved dog.
M y little girl. My first baby. Four months have gone by since my dog Esther’s passing and there’s not a day that I don’t miss her. Saying goodbye to her was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done—the mad panic few days of trying to make her better at any cost, and the horrifying, heartbreaking realization that I would have to let her go. Helping her pass was both a privilege and an impossibly devastating decision. It felt like my heart broke.
I almost refused to answer the door when the vet arrived at our house. Pacing in the kitchen, my face stained with tears, I had to have my husband greet her. He didn’t want to answer the door either. For a while I refused to come out, desperately wishing for another outcome, my heart filled with terror and disbelief. What a heavy thing to decide for someone you love, but also what a blessing. I was able to be there and help her cross over, at home, in the nicest way possible—on her sheepskin, surrounded by flowers from the neighbourhood, with “Sleep My Baby,” a favourite song from my son’s nighttime music, playing. I just hope I made the right decision for her, and that she knows how deeply she is missed.
When I ask my son, now 20 months, if he remembers Esther, he says, “woof woof” and smiles. Esther took his arrival, that of a demanding interloper, with such grace, lying next to him and sharing bites of sweet potato. But then again, of course she did. She always had such composure. She was like royalty. A pet psychic once told me she was an Egyptian woman of high standing in a past life. With her regal bearing and kohl rimmed eyes, I can believe it.
Esther and I spent 16 years together—my entire adult life, really—but it felt more like lifetimes. Among the many moons, seasons, phases, and places encompassing our time together, she was my one constant. I used to say she was my “once in a lifetime dog,” smiling down at her, so proud of her slightly aloof, discerning intelligence and always perfect composure, but I’d like to revise that. One lifetime was not enough.
Esther, it’s my fervent wish you come back to me. I can’t wait to see what magnificent form you take next. In the meantime, I carry you with me, not only in my heart, but in the form of a small yellow diamond I’m having your ashes pressed into. I’ll wear it with my wedding ring. I miss you my friend. You were—are—my baby, my familiar, my best friend. I miss the sound of your ears flapping, your love of carpeting, and how you’d head to the door if you saw me getting ready to leave the house, always sure you were coming along (you were right). If I try really hard, I can recognize you’re still right here with me.