A Dog Gone

In my lifetime, eight wonderful dogs have been a part of my family: Rose, Charcoal, Sparkles, Saint, Nikki, Buddy, Samson, and Bella. My sister now has Sadie and Zoey, so her and Brian’s house is once again full of the pitter-patter of little paws and licks to the face when you’re least expecting it.

On Tuesday, our Golden Retriever, Bella, lost her fight to cancer. If you know my family, you know that we have had dogs for as long as my sister and I have been alive (and my parents even before then). Bella lived with my parents, making this the first time in over 25 years that my parents are without a dog at the house.

When it comes time, we bury each of our dogs at the pasture at my grandparent’s house. Two trees grow out in the middle of the pasture, surrounded by open land. We are able to laugh because, during the times of drought, patches of green still surround those trees. Right now, we have at least fifteen dogs there. My grandpa remembers where he has placed each of them. They come from our extended families: my grandpa’s dogs, my aunt and uncle and cousin’s dogs, and our dogs. 

Grandpa on the John Deere burying Bella

Grandpa under the tree

In early January, we also lost our other golden, Samson, to cancer. My grandpa and grandma, as always, were there to help us put him to rest. My grandma prepared a lunch for us and grandpa dug the hole for us. Both were a huge comfort. Grandpa told me about his feelings when Samson passed. He compares it to a different kind of anticipation than that of Die Vorfreude (the joy of anticipation) which I have mentioned previously:

Last Sunday [on January 8^th], word came to us that Samson died. That meant that Sam is going to be buried in Walburg, which also meant that, most likely, the two girls that were involved with Sam’s life and he with theirs were going to be at the funeral. Was that a joy of anticipation to wait for Sam’s body to get here? No, that was a different kind of anticipation. Yet, still, Tiffany, you were looking forward to seeing your mom and dad, and me to seeing my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughters because it was going to be a private family affair.  

The first thing that needed to be done was to dig the grave in case of ill weather or forecast of rain. It was a case of a strong north wind, as one would say, “The North wind doth blow.” However, it was a favorable time to put a much-loved dog in his final resting place. This place is well known because other dogs of the family are buried close by. That was a certain amount of joy in knowing that everything went well. Then there was the joy of the reception afterwards with the usual chatter of good times. The toughest of all—there was no joy of anticipating the good-bye. It was truly a sad time, but it was a time that was anticipated.

As Grandpa Kieschnick talked about Die Vorfreude—that is a recollection of what it’s all about—family.

His words rang true to me when we buried Bella on Tuesday—it was about a family gathering and mourning for a loss, and providing comfort during a time of sadness. I had wondered how my grandpa felt always having to bury the dogs, but he enjoys being with family even if it is a sad occasion. Once again, he put Bella to rest and we gathered around the trees in the pasture. We found comfort in each other. Though it was sad, we reflected on a dog gone, but not forgotten.