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FRAGILE TEARS

 Page 1    Page 2   Page 3  Belker   George, Our Pekingese   Judy, My Beautiful Horse 

                                                                Preparing Children for Pet Loss

                 
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Belker

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten year old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa, and their little boy, Shane were all very attached to Belker and were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family there were no miracles left for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
    As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for their four year old son to observe the procedure. They felt Shane could learn something from the experience.
    The next day I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time. I wondered if he understood what was going on.
    Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion.
    We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
    Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, "I know why."
    Startled, we all turned to him.
    What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
    He said, "Everybody is born so that they can learn how to live a good life, like loving everybody and being nice, right?"

The four year old continued, "Well, animals already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay here as long as people do."

George, Our Pekingese

by Ann Shields

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Dear Son,
    I sit here as you come to me with tears in your eyes. You have just laid to rest a friend who has stood by you for twenty of your twenty-two years. For a few days you will remember him vividly. But then he will pass into the other special memories of your childhood as you go on to other pursuits and perhaps one day even replace him. You will never forget him entirely because he was your first pet.
    He came to you with wagging tail and licking tongue when you were but a lad of two.
    He asked no quota of anyone, except love, a pat on the back, and food when hungry. In return, he gave of himself many fold – unconditional love at its best.
    When young, he was full of life – enjoying everything to the fullest and making you and others around him feel good just by his antics.
    As you grew into a teenager and were out at night, he waited up for you – no matter if it was midnight from a date or earlier in the evening from church or school. He knew you would be home by ten p.m. and in some way he knew when it reached that time. He began his vigil then, which often included more pacing than even I did. His curfew was tougher than mine.
    Each morning he would wait at the head of the stairs for you to turn on your light, then would go about his business, knowing all was right with his boy. At other time he would stop, not bothering you, but watching his special friend study or read, and be content just to be near.
    When you left home, he kept up the ritual, not understanding why the light no longer shone nor his friend appear and why no one waited up for you at night.
    Advancing years caught up with him, as it does with all of us, and he began walking slower, with a touch of arthritis in his legs. He was happy to spend his time lying against the heater.
    His teeth were knocked out when his legs gave away and he tumbled down the basement stairs. Gradually his eyesight failed and his hearing went, but still he didn't complain, asking only for love, food, and a warm place to sleep. Then, having lost his perception, he began going in circles when attempting to move alone. And yet, he remained a faithful friend.
    Now he has left us, but his memory will always be with us and his presence felt in our heart – a small black Pekingese with his distinctive white markings.

Just a dog, although a female, named George.

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Judy, My Beautiful Horse

  by Debbie Pedersen

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I met Judy back in 1982, when I was asked by a neighbor if I would like to take care of her. Judy was a mare, half Morgan and half quarter horse. Her full name was Judy Garland, named after her owner’s favorite actress. Our neighbor had seen me riding my friend’s pony and came outside to ask if I would like to take care of Judy. Her owner had become ill and was unable to take care of her.
    I had always wanted a horse, but was unable to talk my parents into it. So I was very happy to help. Taking care of someone’s horse would be the closest thing to having my own. It would be perfect.
    Judy and I became close friends. All my spare time was spent with Judy. Then a few months later, her owner had her moved to a stable closer to where I lived. It had a sixty acre pasture and she shared it with twenty other horses.
    When my friends and I would go out to catch our horses, most would run around before being caught and then would need a halter and lead rope to be led out to pasture. But not Judy. I only had to call her name and whistle. She would come to me and we’d walk together to the gate. When Judy’s ill owner could no longer pay for Judy’s board, I got a job to pay for it. When the owner passed away, Judy became mine.

During the summer a friend and I helped out in a nearby rental stable and I’d take Judy with me. We’d get customers mounted on their horses and go out as trail guides. When it was slow, I’d remove Judy’s tack and let her graze on the grass around the barn and parking lot. When she finished eating, she would come over to the office and stick her head in the window. If the door had been left open, she’d come right in to hang out with us. People got a big kick out of this.
    Many years passed and Judy and I went through a lot together. She was there for me whenever I needed her. Judy and I challenged ourselves many times. I took her to English show jumping events, Western pleasure shows, gymkhana events, and team penning events. We rode in two Fourth of July Parades. My parents said I was probably confusing the poor horse, that she was no longer a young filly. But Judy seemed pleased. She always held her head high and ears forward looking for what was next.
    When she was thirty years old, we moved from California to Utah. Instead of riding on the beach, we were going to learn how to ride in the snow. Our first winter I went out to the stables to exercise her while it was snowing. As I walked Judy out the barn door, she looked up at the sky and then backed up into the barn. But I encouraged her and she soon enjoyed it.
    We met new friends that were involved in parade and drill events. One day the riding club discovered they were missing a team member and Judy and I were glad to help out. She enjoyed it so much, we joined the club. We participated in one season of showing, then I did not feel comfortable working her so hard anymore. But we still went on trail rides with friends and enjoyed the mountains. . .  Read more in the book

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Preparing Children for Pet Loss

  by Marty Tousley

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Be open and honest. If the pet is terminally ill, death is pending and euthanasia is necessary, tell your children as soon as possible so they will hear it first from you and not from someone else. If they ever discover that you distorted the truth or lied to them, they'll have a great deal of trouble trusting you again.

Offer basic, age-appropriate explanations, and be available for questions. Children need to know that grief is normal and necessary, and it's all right to feel sad. Make certain they know that it is the pet's death (not something your children did or failed to do) that makes you sad. Explain what "dead" means (the animal's body stops working and won't work anymore), and make it clear that death is not the same as sleeping (when we sleep our body is still working, just resting). Avoid the common phrase for euthanasia, "put to sleep" as it can trigger sleep problems or intense anxiety over surgery and anesthesia. Better to say the pet will be helped to die peacefully and without pain. Don't say that the pet has "passed away," "left us" or "gone on." Such phrases imply the pet is on a trip and will return, leave children feeling rejected or abandoned, or encourage them to go searching for the lost pet or hold out hope for its return.

Help young children understand why euthanasia is necessary. Explain that their pet may be suffering from old age (when an animal gets very, very, very old, its body wears out and stops working); terminal illness (because the disease couldn't be stopped, the pet is very, very sick; its body has worn out and has stopped working); an accident (a terrible thing happened, the pet's body was badly hurt and couldn't be fixed; it stopped working).

Avoid telling children that their pet was so good or so special that God wants it to be with Him in heaven. Children may become angry with God or fear that they (or you) will be chosen next.

Don't blame the veterinarian. As a result your children may develop fear of veterinarians and other health care givers.

Include children in the euthanasia decision. Never euthanize a family pet without telling your children first, even if they're away from home. Children need help in understanding why the decision has to be made and a feeling that they've participated in making it. They also need an opportunity to say good-bye and make the most of whatever time they may have left with the pet.

Prepare children ahead of time as to what to expect. Hold a family meeting and discuss the veterinarian's diagnosis, the pet's prognosis and the cost of treatments and care, including side effects and the pet's quality of life. Schedule a visit to the veterinarian's office to learn about the euthanasia procedure itself and answer any questions you or your children may have. (Find out in advance how it will be done and where; how long it takes; if the pet will feel any pain; whether the family can be present; what will be done with the pet's remains afterward.) . . . Read more in the book.

(Based on Children and Pet Loss: A Guide for Helping, by Marty Tousley.)

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