By Laura Louise Clarke
After losing Mia, my dog of almost 14 years, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about just how special dogs are. To some people, the severity of the grief caused by losing your companion can be hard to understand. Usually, I think, it’s because they’ve never had a dog of their own. I’ve lost family pets before. It was sad, and I cried, but it didn’t come close to the feeling of losing my own best friend.
The final act of love we can show our dogs is to let them go when they’re ready, even when we aren’t. Mia was ready. We knew it, and she knew it too. They get this look in their eyes that somehow tells you, “I’m ready now.” And the very last thing my dog did was give me a kiss before she fell asleep for the last time.
Since losing her, I’ve spoken to so many people who have watched me dissolve into tears simply by asking how I am, or even saying hello. More than one has told me that losing their dog was harder than losing a parent. That doesn’t mean they loved their parents any less. It’s just a different kind of loss.
A dog is your constant companion. When you’re home, they’re there. They rely on you for food, walks and care, but mostly they just want the sheer pleasure of being in your company. It’s…effortless. As someone with experience of social anxiety, i have never – not once, felt anxious about spending time with my pooch.
They don’t judge you. They don’t question your decisions. They don’t care what you earn, what you look like, what mistakes you’ve made or your life choices.. .even if sometimes you think they may just know more than you think! They just love you.
The night before I took Mia to the vets, I shouted at her in frustration and man – have i felt guilty about that! She was pacing and panting endlessly. I knew she desperately needed to rest and lie down, but she just wouldn’t. I was exhausted and worried and I didn’t yet understand just how ill she was. Still, she stayed by my side and gave me kisses – like she was comforting me!
Eventually I lay on the sofa beside her with my arm over her, and we managed to sleep for a while. The next morning I was getting ready to take her straight to the vets. I ran upstairs to grab something, turned around… and there she was at the top of the stairs.
Mia was almost 14 years old, had a temperature of 40.5°C, was weak and feeling absolutely dreadful. But I had gone upstairs. So she came upstairs too. Even though it must have hurt and exhausted her, she followed me because she wanted to be where I was. That was Mia.
She knew all my secrets. She was there for all the joy and all the tears. She saw different versions of me through almost 14 years of my life, and she loved every single one of them.
She was such a sensitive soul. She somehow knew when somebody was struggling and had this incredible ability to make them feel that there was still hope and still something good in the world. Friends would sometimes take Mia for the day when they were struggling because being around her simply made things feel better.
Even the veterinary team commented on how gentle she was. Normally, when vets examine a painful area, a dog might growl, flinch or show their teeth. Mia? She just wanted to give them a kiss. Of course she did.
And now I miss absolutely everything. I miss the kisses and the waggy tail when I walked through the door, whether I’d been gone for eight hours or eight minutes. But I also miss the annoying panting. The following me absolutely everywhere. And yes, somehow I even miss the smelly farts.
Right now, I can’t imagine getting another dog. I can’t imagine willingly signing myself up to one day feel this kind of grief again. But from everything I know about dog people… We usually do. Because sometimes your heart just needs a dog. And sometimes there’s a dog somewhere that needs you.
Mia taught me love, patience and so much more. She was my constant from four months old until a week before her 14th birthday, although I still remember seeing her when she was two days old and saying “That’s my dog.”
I was in absolutely no position to get a dog. Even when the day came to take her home, it didn’t make much sense. But my heart knew. She was mine. And somehow, I think she always knew I was hers too.
So was she “just a dog?” No. She was as good as a child to me. She was my best friend. My constant companion. The dog version of a soulmate.
She was mine, and I was hers. I loved her for all of her life, and I will miss her for all of mine.
But underneath all this grief, there is something else too. Gratitude. Because I was unbelievably blessed to experience almost 14 years of Mia’s love. I have thousands of memories that death cannot take away from me. And I believe with all my heart that this isn’t the end of our story.
I trust in God. And I believe that one day, in what will feel like the blink of an eye to her, my girl will come running back into my arms. Until then…Thank you for choosing me, Mia.
The views and opinions expressed in this op-ed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of NMI News Service, its staff, or its sponsors. NMI News Service publishes opinion submissions from the community as a platform for public discourse.
