Grieving the Loss of My Dog, Whimpy

Most everyone has lost a loved one. Grief can be overwhelming when we absorb our loss. Not just losing people is sad, it also breaks our heart to lose a pet. A special part of our family is missing. That one true soul who see us with such an unconditional love that they love us more than they love themselves. The loss of my dog, Whimpy has been very sad for me. I know 13 is old for a dog, but I hoped he would be around a little while longer.

Whimpy was a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix. He belonged to my late husband, Bill. Spoiled, to put it mildly, he got away with anything he wanted to do. He was a unique character in every way a dog could be. He was born here. My Jack Russell, Boomer was his mother. She was special, too. She was the gentlest dog I ever had. Whimpy’s father, a Chihuahua named Max belongs to my daughter. He is also a special lovable dog. Unlike his parents, Whimpy was not always people friendly. I never understood why, but some people he would bite their ankles or grab a pant leg. He loved kids. My kids and grandkids had no problem with him, they could even bring a friend with them, but my brother, brother-in-law or neighbor might get chewed on if they walked in the door. We always had to shut him in the bedroom when company came that Whimpy wasn’t use to being around. However, that being said Whimpy was a good guard dog. Ten pounds of pure aggression. But every bit of that ten pounds held affection as well. He had got me through many low points as I became lonelier and lonelier as the years went by. I am so thankful to have had him here these last 3 ½ years since losing Bill. Somehow having Bill’s dog still with me helped me cope.

Whimpy was a great entertainer and he sang with his yodeling voice to certain songs he liked. He was crazy about Blue grass, Country music, Pop music and Elvis. Many favorites that Bill and I enjoyed ourselves rubbed off on him. He always joined in when anyone sang Happy Birthday. I attempted to teach myself to play an autoharp one time. Whimpy would sing with me every time. I never did learn to play it. One does need to hear something besides a dog yodeling to stay in tune.

Music was only part of Whimpy’s great entertainment. He liked to chase squeaky toys, balls and empty laundry soap jugs (of all things). But the laundry soap jug had to have a rattle to it. Most anything would work from a clothes pin to a pop bottle cap so long as it fit through the spout of the jug. You shake it and throw it down the hall for a playful game of fetch that lasted until he was tired of it. Not you tired of it, but him, he could go for an hour or more. He would bring it back, shake and rattle it and drop it by your feet, if not in your lap. The handle provided easy carrying for him. It was funny to watch his balancing act as he jumped with it upon to the sofa or a chair near by. Bill sometimes would play fetch the soap jug in the middle of the night with his spoiled pooch because Whimpy would smack Bill in the head with the soap jug to wake him up. He was Bill’s dog. And he knew it. He knew he could get away with most anything. And he took full advantage of our loyalty to him.

Whimpy liked to collect dirty socks. He waited patiently for you to undress your feet, so he could take your socks. Then he would whine for you to follow him to the bedroom, so he could hide the socks. He wanted you to close the door, so you wouldn’t see his hiding spot. He would whine some more or paw at the door for you to let him out when he was done. Sometimes he would bring the socks back out with him. Guess he couldn’t decide where to hide them. I often found them under the bed or in it. One time he put one of Bill’s nasty ole socks under my pillow. I gagged my head off. I always checked after that for Whimpy’s little surprises. Especially after the summer he left a dead garner snake in the middle of my bed. I fear any snake. They are creepy dead or alive. I became more aware of Whimpy coming in and out of the house and made sure he wasn’t carrying a critter with him. I wasn’t leaving the door open for him as often as I did in the past. From then on Whimpy had to let me know when he wanted in or out. The little brat could not be trusted.

Whimpy often left me messes to clean up. He would shred a cardboard box or pee on a bag left in his reach. He had a bad habit of peeing on things. You certainly learned to keep anything off the floor you didn’t want Whimpy to mark or chew on. Despite all that I miss the little guy. He was quite the character. He was not into better homes and gardens (to quote my husband), Whimpy would not let you use a broom or a mop without chaos. He would grab at them and growl. The only chance you had of cleaning the floor with a broom and mop was to put him outdoors or in another room. Vacuum sweepers usually sent him running away from them. This was one option that was Whimpy proof.

Whimpy was introduced to a stray cat that I call Mister Goofy a couple years ago. It amazed me that he allowed me to let the cat inside. They became pretty good friends. And on occasion Whimpy would share his favorite food with the Mister Goofy or even his bed. Whimpy did not like to share me with him. Some conflicts arose because of the jealousy with both the cat and the dog. They acted just like, well they acted just like cats and dogs. Whimpy got his name because he was a cry baby from birth and Mister Goofy is just that, a goofy cat. No wonder they didn’t always get along.

This cat will never take Whimpy’s place, but I am glad to have his company. I can’t see myself getting another dog. At least not now. It hurts too much to lose them. I have shed more tears over losing pets than I have losing people. Pets are more than companions, they bring out everything good in those they choose to be close to. I have always favored dogs over cats. Many great dogs have come and gone. Someday I may decide to give my heart to another, but for now I don’t need to worry about rushing home for the dog. Cats are far more independent. We will see how that goes.

As I grieve for the love of Whimpy, I grieve for every pet I ever lost. I grieve for every person I ever lost. I know my tears won’t bring them back, but a good cry never hurt anyone. Perhaps with it being Mother’s Day I already was feeling a bit down because I lost my mom back in 2006. I lost Whimpy in the middle of the night after he was in a couple hours of deep destress. There was nothing I could do for him. I prayed, and I cried. My poor fur baby was gone. He was with Bill again. I never slept at all.

Come morning I hear a tapping on my window. It is a cardinal that sees his own reflection in the window. His mate is in a nearby tree. Could it be a visit from Heaven? Perhaps a message to let me know Whimpy got there. After all, all dogs go to Heaven. For two weeks straight, this red feathered friend wakes me at day break. Surely, I have gotten his message.

Everyone grieves in their own way. Tears aren’t always the answer. Sometimes shock stops the tears from coming. Therefore, it is easy to grieve for everyone at once. For most of us crying does help ease our pain. It clears the mind for happy memories to take over and it inspires us to make new memories. Find a piece of mind that only dwells on happy thoughts. Keep the loved ones we still have with us closer and don’t worry about the departed. They are better off than we are. Until we meet again let the happy memories they left behind be our strength to build new memories every chance we get.