Reflecting on the Life of Max Fisher: A Tribute to Love
I want to tell you about my dog Max, who died last month. Then, I'd like to write about grief from my perspective as a grief counselor. Max was more than just a pet; he was my best friend and an unwavering source of fun and companionship. He loved people and other dogs with boundless enthusiasm, and he approached life with the meticulousness of a gentleman. When he was digging for moles with his cousin Teela, she would be covered head-to-toe in mud, while Max was mortified by his slightly soiled paws. We used to call him the Cary Grant of Dogs.
Max was a fighter. As a puppy, he nearly succumbed to Parvovirus but remarkably recovered. When we learned he had hip dysplasia, we opted for a hip replacement to
ensure he could continue being our energetic, playful dog. It was an ordeal, yet as a tribute to love, he was leashed to my belt during his recovery, three months that solidified and deepened our bond.
He had a knack for playing possum about his hip,
pretending he couldn't climb on the couch. But we knew it was a ploy when we found him standing on the dining room table at Thanksgiving with his head in a bowl of whipped cream. He looked up at us with those big eyes and cream-covered jaws as if to say, "What?"
He was an exceptional companion in the studio, never once complaining about the Pink Floyd albums—unlike his cousin Teela who would bark and howl. For my wife, Sandra, he was her gardening partner, often finding a shady spot beneath the shrubs to oversee her work when he wasn't busy "helping" by digging random holes.
He slowed down towards the end and mellowed. No longer so mischievous, he became more loving and kind, a "sweet old soul," and happily lounged with us in front of the TV. However, when I came home in the evening and found him curled up on the couch, there was a definite twinkle in his eye as if he thought he pulled a fast one, as if we didn't know he could still climb up on the couch.
The Pain of Losing a Cherished Companion
Max was gently euthanized by a compassionate veterinarian from Lap of Love, who prioritized his comfort and dignity. My wife, Sandra, our friend Polly, and our other dogs—Teela, Teddy, and Sigge—were by my side. As a working dog, it took considerable time for the anesthesiologist to ease him into a peaceful sleep. I was grateful to look into his eyes as he began to lose consciousness, hoping to help alleviate any distress he might feel. His primary concern was losing bowel control, and it pained me to think he might feel embarrassed—he was such a dignified dog. Once asleep, the final injection gently slowed his breathing until his last, soft exhale.
In that moment, I recalled these words from Robinson Jeffers' poem "Hurt Hawks."
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance. I gave him the lead gift in the twilight. What fell was relaxed,
Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
Losing Max has been as painful as losing a family member. Max wasn't "just a pet"; he was a beloved member of our family. His absence has left an indelible mark on my heart. Today, my heart is broken, and there is a hole in my life where Max used to be. But I am forever grateful for the love, companionship, and unforgettable moments he brought into my world.
Navigating the Stages of Grief
Grief is Personal
Everyone grieves differently, and there is no deadline. Taking the time to grieve and experience your emotions is essential. We live in a hectic time filled with constant distractions. Experiencing grief can induce anger because the rest of the world hasn't slowed down when we feel it should stop while we grieve. W. H. Auden expressed it so well when he wrote:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
The Six Stages of Grief
The five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are not necessarily sequential phases. David Kessler introduces a significant concept—the sixth stage of grief: finding meaning. This stage extends beyond acceptance, suggesting that healing can be found in acknowledging loss and making sense of it.
For many, the search for meaning in the shadow of grief is deeply challenging. It involves looking into the abyss of what seems like an insurmountable loss, seeking answers to questions that may never be fully resolved. Yet, in this search, we may uncover new insights about our resilience, strength, and capacity to love.
Tips for Dealing with Grief
1. Make Time to Grieve
Give yourself the time to feel, experience, and release your emotions. Distracting yourself might work in the short term, but it can cause more pain down the road. Allow yourself to sit in the grief, feel the emotions, and honor the catalyst for the grief.
2. Reflect
Active reflection can be hard, especially when you're grieving. Take time to reflect through writing, storytelling, or whatever form of expression brings you comfort. Focus on positive memories to bring gratitude into your experience.
3. You Still Have Needs
One of the most frequent complaints in the immediate phase of grief is the loss of appetite and disturbed sleep. Guilt plays a role in this as well. Make sure you continue to meet your basic needs.
4. Find Time to be Present
Choosing a calming practice such as meditation, active focus on breathing, or mindful eating can help reduce anxiety during social obligations. Our anxieties may increase while we are still experiencing grief.
5. Be Present With Your Living Animals
While you're grieving, your living pets are also experiencing the loss. Try to maintain routines and feeding schedules to provide structure and familiarity for both them and yourself.
6. Memorialize the Memory
Memorializing the memory of your beloved pet can provide closure. It's also part of making meaning from the loss. Remembrance is in itself an aspect of meaning. This blog post is my memorial, and if it helps someone with their own grief journey, I believe Max would be glad.
7. Seek Support
Grief is a highly individualistic experience, but we grieve within communities. It's important to recognize when you need support. Call on understanding friends or relatives and communicate what you need from them.
Finding Meaning in Grief
Discovering meaning within grief may lead to a renewed understanding of ourselves and the world around us. It can transform the heaviness of our loss into a foundation upon which we build a legacy—a testament to lives that have graced ours, even if for a fleeting moment. By actively engaging with our grief and seeking significance amidst our pain, we shape the narrative of our own healing.
Conclusion
Loss is loss, whether human or animal, and it's very rough. Forming a relationship and connection with a pet is no different from forming these relationships with humans. Our animals love us without concern for our failings or shortcomings. They're by our side through thick and thin, offering unconditional love.
To those who are grieving, know that your pain is real and valid. Allow yourself to feel, to remember, and to heal. Hold onto the love that never fades. In honoring Max's memory, I find solace and a renewed understanding of the depth of our bond.
Rest well, my friend Max Fisher. You will be deeply missed.
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