Your Pet Loss Stories

by JC Davis
(Farnham, Virginia)

I never really cared much for Chihuahuas. My daughter's dog had a litter and she gave us two of them. Our intent was to find them good homes as we already had two dogs. Well, one home was found pretty quickly - the daughter of my husband's coworker. I think my husband did not really try too hard to find a home for Peyton (since he named him right away and he seemed to be becoming attached). I resolved myself to the fact that Peyton was staying - for my husband. But it wasn't long before Peyton shimmied his way into my heart.

If I walked, Peyton was at my feet. He was in my lap before I could sit all the way down. He liked to climb my outstretched legs when I sat on a tall stool at the kitchen island. Then he would pop his head out from underneath, hoping for a bite of my meal. He was a rascal and he was a gentleman. He frequently tolerated poking from the long nose of my minature dachshund, Molly, with hardly a yip. He stood back and let her eat from the food bowl first. He could easily run circles around her in our big back yard. Watching him run was such an expression of freedom and pure joy. He was so fast. He would be in the house or out before I even realized it sometimes.

But my favorite thing about Peyton was the way he could curl up in my lap and fit there perfectly. He also liked to curl up under the covers when it was time to go to bed. He could find the perfect spot in the bend of my knees or up against my belly. He was a comforting warm spot that I could always reach out and touch during the night.

Our backyard is big, but the front yard is smaller. My husband got up early to let all of the dogs out so I could sleep on my day off. I snuggled back down under the blankets waiting for the return of wet noses and wet paws. Instead my husband called me downstairs. Peyton had dashed out into the road and got hit by a car. He often caught the scent of other animals passing by a big tree in the front yard, and would take off in that direction.

It happened yesterday and the ache in my heart just seems to be growing. We had him a short time, but it didn't take long to see that he had such an endearing and lovable personality. He's resting now under the pine trees in our back yard. I know I need to move on, to just try to think about the good memories. Sometimes I get so mad at myself for becoming so attached to pets.

What helps me to get through is knowing that we gave him a good home and I know he was happy while he was here. He is not feeling the pain and the loss that I am drowning in. My husband said he did not suffer, but he was so mad that the driver did not even stop. I dwell too much on this, picturing how it happened. I think back, while I was snoozing in my bed, my husband was calling for him and he is not coming back.

I miss him the most when I go to curl up on the sofa with him in my lap. I am writing this in hopes that it will be a sort of therapy, as the tears continue to fall. I know it's going to take time, a lot of time. I have work to do and people to deal with. I think I have always been more of an animal person than a people person. I have to keep telling myself that that much love shared cannot have been for naught. And that somehow even though Peyton is gone, the power and energy of our special bond will continue to exist forever.

Bye Peyton, you'll always be my "Little Buddy".


JC Davis
4/7/12