As I lie in bed – the silence is deafening.  The emptiness that surrounds not only my bedroom, but my heart and soul is a constant steady dull ache.  I can hear my own blood pumping around my body in my ears and my king size bed feels huge.. like a huge empty vacant space.  Tears roll down my face as I stroke the empty space next to me.. missing the familiar outline of his fuzzy little body, the little grunts he makes in sleep and the look he’d give when he’d wake up, to make sure I’m still with him.  All things I will never again experience in the same way, because my dog Hanzi died on Friday.

It’s now Monday – I thought the realization of him not being there would start to set in.  When I wake up, I still find myself looking to see where he is on the bed –  the first thing I reach for.  I thought that my mind would now know that he’s not going to thundering down the stairs squealing in excitement when I arrive home – or if he was already in the kitchen, have his excited bark to greet me – his little face inside the glass of the back door as he’d jump from one paw to the other, impatiently waiting for me to get the door open.

I thought by now, I’d know that I will never again see his little eyebrows blowing in the breeze as he looks out the back window of the jeep, when I look in my reverse mirror.  That I shouldn’t look for him, to wonder why he’s not howling when he recognizes land marks that he knows – so he knows where he’s going.  Every regular journey we made- he knew what each one meant.  The Audi Garage – we’re going to the yard.  The South Link road meant we were going to the woods or a field we used walk in.  Passing the airport roundabout – he knew we were going to collect someone.  Every single route we used regularly take – he knew. 

Just like he knew me.  An intuitive dog – he knew my every emotion – when I was sick or upset, his warm little body would curl into the crook of the back of my legs, his little head resting on my legs – just offering me his company and comfort – like only a dog knows how.  When he’d feel my emotions high or excited – he’d run full whack in front of me, sliding along the floorboards when he’d be unable to make the turn into wherever we’d be going.  When he’d hear my brother James ring on Wattsapp – he’d excitedly howl – barking hello into the video call – he was just a dog like no other – always making sure we didn’t forget he was there and he needed to be included in all things.

Not the easiest of dogs – he was moody, anti social at the best of times – an absolute pain when it came to treats – holding me hostage in the treat corner with his beautiful eyes pleading for just one more – and of course, I couldn’t refuse him. Over protective, he’d be barky at anyone coming too close. He’d never relax around strangers, always watching to make sure I was protected – even though I didn’t need it.

And now.. he’s gone… I can’t say taken too soon as he was a great age at nearly 13.  But I also can’t accept the loneliness I feel.. the resentment at absolutely everything that my best friend is gone. The tears that fall randomly – before I even realise I’m crying.  The wails that involuntarily come from my mouth – I don’t even know what to call them – forlorn, painful calls for my best friend.

And through all this it makes me think… what about people who have no one but their dog?  I am SO lucky to have an amazing network of family and friends… from old to new – my work colleagues and bosses are absolutely amazing – even today, being taken out for coffee just to talk about how I feel – do I need time off – their understanding of the loss I’m going through is humbling.  My circle knows that right now – my loss is not of a dog – but of that of a child. Not a biological one – but still – no different. And it makes me wonder what happens to people who only have their dog? What about the elderly – who only have a dog for family and company? Who checks on them? Who makes sure that they are ok when their dog dies… Not necessarily even elderly – but people who live a life of solitude.

Dogs ARE family.  Dogs ARE as important as any human relative and the stigma around “oh it’s just a dog” or “sure he had a good life” needs to be omitted.  Those people who tell people mourning a pet “to get over it” or “Sure get another one” clearly can never have had a bond like so many people do to their pets and I think everyone needs to realise that the pain of losing a pet – can be just as equal, if not greater, than losing a family member. People are becoming more aware of how the death of a pet is equal to that of a human – but if you know of someone who has just lost a dog – maybe check in on them… because you never know – when that dog passed – everything they treasured and loved could have gone with him.

If you are lucky enough to have your dog sitting next to you right now – hug him harder… give him the extra treat he’s annoying you for – because right now – I would sacrifice everything I own to be able to give Hanzi one last cuddle.

Dogs are never just a dog.  Dogs have more personality, integrity, empathy and loyalty than most people I know. Dogs are family.