Longings

"Don't you want another dog?" asked the receptionist at the pool. People express sympathy when I tell them that Suki is gone, and then ask, "When are you getting another dog?" I usually answer this question blinking back tears. In the past two weeks the initial shock and mourning over Suki's death has become bearable, but the longing for another dog beside me and the help and companionship that I need so badly is difficult to deal with. I miss Suki constantly, and I know that only another dog to love will make that pain easier.


I run through the dates in my mind; counting the weeks and days left until the middle of October when I have been promised a place in the next training course. It is still a long 12 weeks away. I remember how anxiously I waited for an invitation to the course three years ago, not yet knowing the change in my life that would come with a guide dog, not yet aware of what a beautiful dog I would receive, not yet aware of the loving relationship that I would cultivate with her and of our close partnership. I now realize that if I was anxious for a guide dog then, I am desperate for another one now. As I told Rafi, I will be happy with either Dinka or Derby. I just want a dog beside me again, because I know that will be the only thing that will get my life back on track. It seems a long time to wait. Rafi mentioned the possibility of my spending time with my new dog before the course - maybe even taking her home for a weekend and returning her to the Center. I know that even a short time would give me a lot of happiness and help get me through the difficult time until the course begins. They understand my pain and loneliness, and my longing to bond with a new dog.

My longing for Suki still runs through me like an underground current. I walk through the orchard and still talk to her, telling her I miss her, imagining her running or resting under a tree, praising her in my mind as we walk down the sidewalk along the routes we walked together.

There is a shelf in the closet filled with everything I saved: brushes, the basket with a kong, rope toy, a rubber Frisbee (Suki never got the hang of picking it up off the ground), the new tug of war toy I bought in New York, water bowls, clickers, whistle, and dog shoes. They were all Suki's and I want them for my new dog. Her bed is here, too, and I imagine myself putting them out so that they will all be in place when I bring my new dog home.

I think of both Suki and my new dog, whom I now refer to as D., since a decision has not yet been made as to which dog of the two sisters in the D litter will be mine. I will be happy to receive either one of them and will love whichever one I get.

Thoughts for Suki

Reading this blog and remembering all the good times that Suki and I had together has been a great comfort to me. I'm so thankful for all the pictures, stories, and account of our life together that I kept for nearly three years. So here's an entry for Suki, written in the past weeks, in an effort to find some comfort and ease my longing for her.


Suki, It's been four weeks since you've been gone, and the black despair that I felt at first has given way to a dull pain that is ever present inside me, occasionally bursting forth and leaving me filled with grief. I think of you constantly, what we would be doing together if you were here, and how different things would be. We were both cruelly deprived of all the wonderful years we should have had together, and I am heartbroken that what should have been a long partnership was cut short so suddenly. I am overcome with sadness at seeing places that remind me of you; the place you used to wait near the door in the morning, the carpet at my feet on the train, your spot at the side of the pool, the bench at the bus stop, or the floor at the foot of my bed where you slept at night. Sometimes I put out my hand and imagine stroking your soft fur, scratching your long silky ears, or laying my palm on your head. In my mind I call you, and when I'm walking I silently give you commands and imagine you leading me. It's so hard without you, Suki! I ran into a glass door the other day trying to get into the mall. You would have found the right way and whisked me right through it.

Wherever we went you touched so many hearts with your gentle manners, your sweet disposition, your soft dark eyes and silky white fur. Going anywhere with you was always an adventure and a joy, and I was always so proud of you. Everywhere I go people ask where you are, and I can't tell them without bursting into tears. People are so sad to hear you are gone. It's a consolation to know that I am not alone in my grief, and that there are so many people who loved you and who will remember you. That's because you were such a special dog!

I'm grateful for every day of the two years and nine months we had together, Suki. I have so many good memories – feeling your cold, wet nose nudging me awake each morning, walking with you in the orchard, playing tug of war with your rope toy, stroking your soft ears as you lay with your head in my lap in a taxi on the way home, and hearing your tail thumping happily on the floor as I gave you one last goodnight pat before going to sleep.

So here's what I need to tell you, Sookers. I can't manage without you, but I need to go on. So I'm going to get another guide dog to help me just like you did. I know you'll understand, because you'll want me to be safe and happy again. I will love my new dog, bond with her and give her a good life filled with love, affection, work, and play just like I did for you. She will love me too, just like you did, and she will comfort me and ease my pain at losing you.

But you needn't worry, Suki. There will always be a special place in my heart for you, and I will always love you just as I did when you were here with me! You see, it's like I once explained to Rotem: even when I have more grandchildren, I will still have just as much love for her because our heart keeps manufacturing more love. That's the way it will be with us, too, Suki. No matter how many guide dogs I have in the future and no matter how many years go by, I'll still feel the same unconditional love for you as I did when you were here with me.

You know that if you had lived I would have kept you with me even after you retired, just as I promised. I want you to know that I will still keep that promise. You'll be with me together with my new dog at the beach, running through the waves, lying on the sand next to me, walking through the fields, guiding me down the sidewalks. My new dog will walk beside me, and you'll be safe in that special place in my heart reserved only for you.

So I'll never say goodbye, Suki, because you'll always be with me, and you'll be in my mind often! Run along the beach or through the lush green fields, wherever you want to run, free and safe and healthy and happy, just as I remember you. I will call you to me in my thoughts, or perhaps you'll come running to me with your tail wagging as you always did. We'll play together for a fleeting moment and reminisce about the joyful time we spent together – a brief and wonderful chapter of our lives, that was filled with love and affection. You'll lick me and I'll hug you, and I'll remember what a privilege it was to be with you. And then you'll go dashing off again - until the next time we meet.

.