Pawprint on My Heart

How does a heart heal when a beloved pet dies

Created on Midjourney

Laine was certain that if she could take her beating heart out of her chest and show it to her friends, they’d see it indelibly stamped with the huge pawprint Shadow had left there. But she couldn’t.

They saw neither the pawprint nor the gaping rent torn in that same heart by his death last winter. A very few—those who had themselves lost beloved fur babies—got it. Most didn’t.

“It’s been a year. Why don’t you just get another dog?”

“It’s only an animal.”

“You care more about that stupid mutt than about people.”

Fending off insensitive and often offensive comments had exhausted Laine to the point at which she had avoided, and then dropped some of her friends, keeping those who understood close.

But it had been a year and her heart was no closer to healing. Even her closest friends had started to suggest she might want to go for grief counseling. They were right that she needed to do something, though that something wasn’t counseling or getting another dog—at least not yet.

Laine’s heart clenched as she passed through the door of the animal shelter.

But then the familiar scent of dog filled her nostrils. Joyous barking greeted her ears and a flood of tears poured down her face as the tightness in her chest released.

Marilyn, the shelter director looked up from her desk, greeting Laine with a warm smile. “The first day is always the hardest. And the best.” Joining Laine at the door, she took her coat and hung it on the coat rack. “I can always tell the volunteers who need the dogs as much as the dogs need them.”

Laine accepted the tissues Marilyn offered, wiping her eyes before blowing her nose. “Thank you for that. I didn’t expect to fall apart like this.”

“Uh huh.” Marilyn’s smile broadened as she nodded with a knowing look. “Follow me. I think for today we’ll just have you work with the dogs in the socializing room. Most have them have lost someone they love too. You can all comfort each other.”

Half a dozen sad-eyed dogs perked up and crowded around Marilyn as she entered the socializing room. Her hands couldn’t pet them fast enough. “Oh, I just want to take them all home.”

“I know,” Marilyn answered. “But you won’t. It’s too soon. You’ll know when you’re really ready. One dog will call out to you.” Then, as if she could see through Laine’s body to her beating heart, she added, “I’m sure your heart will have room for another pawprint once that big hole heals.”

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I’ve had many animal companions throughout my life—sometimes too many all at once. I rescued a number of cats over the years, at one time having eight. I also acted as a parrot rescue for a time. At the height of this I don’t remember if I had sixteen or eighteen parrots in the house (along with the eight cats and two dogs). We were a very noisy household!

Many pets means much love—but also, much grief as these pets ultimately die. Most of the parrots, of course, we rehomed. But some of them were our own pets and the small ones eventually died. The larger ones I had to rehome when health issues precluded caring for them adequately—prompting a different sort of grief.

We currently have four fur babies in the house—my dog Jace, whom, if you’ve followed Eclectic Ink for very long, you’ve likely read about; my daughter’s dog, Dixie, and her cat, Kyro; and my youngest son’s cat, Uhura.

Uhura is our most senior fur baby. I think she’s fourteen now. She was initially my cat, but when Jace came on the scene, she started spending more time with Rob, as Jace is possessive. Dixie is next at ten. She’s a lab mix, so that’s starting to get up there in years for her. Jace is nine and a small dog, but he’s had a lot of health issues, while Kyro is the youngster and not yet two.

We hopefully have lots of years left with all our fur babies. But my mind does wander to loss occasionally as I remember Worf and Keiko, my dog and cat immediately before Jace and Uhura.

Their losses were especially hard for me. So I found myself creating images with the prompt “pawprint on my heart.” I love the one I chose for this story.

I’m realizing I got a little bit long winded with the after bit today. I think the grief over losing animal companions is often not adequately acknowledged by those around us. Most of my family shares my deep love for animals, but there are a few who don’t get it.

What’s been your experience with losing fur babies (or winged, or reptilian or whatever)? Were those around you supportive? Or are you someone who hasn’t had pets but has been asked for understanding? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.