She was my constant companion. She always wanted to be in the same room as me until bedtime, where she would stay in her bed in the living room until about 1am then wake me up when she jumped on the bed.
She was a good dog, a great dog, a sort of bad dog. She ate tissues and paper towels. In the fall I had to take a different route to walk her so she couldn’t get the acorns. She would take food out of her bowl and bring it into the living room to eat.
She was a failure at playing fetch. I’d throw the ball, she’d run and get it, then prance to a corner of the yard where she would sit with the ball. She never once brought the ball back to me.
Her official AKC name was Trogdor Warrior Princess of the Tundra. Her name to us was Ren. Sometimes I called her buddy, sometimes I called her dumbass. She was also known as the loaf and chubs. She’d answer to anything if you had a treat for her.
She loved Milk Bones and bananas and pizza crust. She hated carrots. She loved to hang out by the stove when we were cooking in case any crumbs dropped. She’d stare at me while I was eating to see if I’d give her anything and if I didn’t, I got The Stare.
She hung out on the back of the couch so she could look out the living room window. She’d bark at every dog that came past. The whole neighborhood knew her bark and people walking by with their dogs would often point to the window and smile. She was tolerant of Axel, the dog who lives downstairs, but absolutely hated Ricky, the Pekingese from down the block. She hated squirrels with every fiber of her being but was terrified of the neighborhood stray cats.
She always knew when I was upset or sick and would come sit by me and lick my face. Ok, sometimes she was completely indifferent to my woes but in her defense, I cry a lot. She was my company. My companion. My friend. I feel like she really got me.
You know when you get a pet that you are most likely going to outlive them. You know that going in, yet we still welcome pets into our lives, because our lives are enriched by their presence, for however long we have them. I can’t even articulate the joy Ren brought to my life, and the lives of so many others. Sometimes I would look at her and think how wild it was that I had this little creature living in my house, and I would feel honored to be given the opportunity to make her happy, but also terrified because my life was in her hands. Sometimes I would cry over how much I loved her.
I am looking at all her stuff; her three beds (small, medium, and large), her toys, her stuffed animals, her blankets and bowls and snacks, and her leash. What do I do with all this stuff? What do I do with all her sweater and shirts? This is what I’m thinking about right now because I think I’m in shock and cannot fully process everything. I go into practical mode when something like this happens. What can I do to put off sitting here and bawling?
I’ve been dealing with grief one way or another since 2020. I will add this grief onto the pile. But it somehow feels deeper than the grief I felt over my marriage ending. I am feeling this loss more acutely. My heart was already broken. Now it’s shattered.
I will miss her more than words can say. She was a good dog, a proud dog, a silly dog, a good dog. Aren’t they all.
Rest well, Ren. You were loved.
So very sorry to hear. We lost our two last year (cancer and liver disease). Cosmo (short for Cosmopolitan) was 17, and Rascal was 12. But, as hard as the losses were, we now have a one year old, Buddy, and a ten week old, Astro. They can't replace Cosmo and Rascal, but it helps that they are a reminder of all the wonderful things a dog brings to one's life. I hope when you feel up to it, you consider another dog. It won't be Ren, but it will help. They say heaven is the place where all your pets come to greet you. May it be so, Michelle, may it be so. Take care.
I’m so sorry, Michele. Rest well, Ren.