And everything will work out fine.

If you’re a resident of Ottawa that’s never lived or spent any considerable amount of time in Centretown, you’re probably not familiar with its pet culture. Let me sum it up this way: I have a theory that there are actually more dogs and cats in Centretown than there are people. You’re probably more likely to refer to that couple who lives down the street as “Elvis the pug’s mom and dad” than you are to actually know their names if you’re also a pet owner yourself. The dog park is like that corner pub (but for your dog), where everybody knows your dog’s name and you can go and let poochie unwind after a long day in the office. If you ask me, Centertown is a pretty awesome place to live for people and pets alike.

There’s this man that everyone in Centretown who owns a dog knows. He can always be found either at the park, walking to the Arboretum or stopped somewhere chatting someone up along with his trusty dog. He always carries with him what seems to be an infinite amount of dog treats, which makes him quite popular with the pooches (well, with my gluttonous pug anyway). Last Spring he found out his dog had Lymphoma. Over the summer, the dog got skinnier and skinnier and seemed to be slowing down every time we saw her. This morning I saw him walking alone and I immediately knew what it meant because that dog never left his side.

He told me his dog died Friday morning, and as he was talking to me and hiding tears with his sunglasses, I felt like such a knob because I clearly did not know what to say. I thought about the usual losing a pet is so hard and losing a pet is like losing a member of your family (which, thinking back on it, I think I did say to him), but those are just words and clearly they don’t apply to his situation. As far as I’m able to tell, that dog was this man’s family. I’m absolutely serious when I say that that man loved that dog way more than a lot of people in our society love their spouses. His life revolved around her and now he finds himself with long days to fill without his trusty, ever-loving and ever-present companion. He told me this morning that looking back on it, he probably should have tried to have some activities that did not revolve around his dog in the last 12 years because now he finds himself piecing his life back together and having to deal with himself after spending every waking moment for the last 12 years caring for his dog. But I bet if he had to do it over he wouldn’t do anything differently.

Once the pain of his loss eases I hope he realizes just how awesome of a life his dog had and can look back on their lives together and remember the good days (which I’m sure she had up until that Friday morning). I can say with certainty that his dog probably had the best life any dog ever had. This man spent every waking moment of his day with that dog for the duration of her life. How many people can say that about the people in their family or their children?

I feel rotten because I didn’t know what do say or do around him this morning and now it’s really bothering me. I didn’t want to ask too many questions but also didn’t want him to feel like I didn’t care, because I really do. I feel that pet loss is in many cases comparable to losing a family member for some people, and I’m sure it was the case for this man. A pet is a companion who loves you unconditionally, with whom you never fight, who’s always around to lick your toes to crack you up when you’re feeling down and who’s dependent on you to care for them everyday. That can leave a big hole in a daily routine. I just hope he can dig himself out of that hole and possibly find another puppy to make his life complete someday.

Such rotten news to start off the week.

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