When a pet dies... remembering "Uncle" Cody

He was a good dog, the best dog.  My parents got Cody, a black lab mix with white paws and a white chest, as a puppy when I was in my junior year of high school.  He was supposed to be "my dog" (I had begged for a puppy!)-- but he was always really my mom's.  He slept in my room maybe one night before it became clear who his real mommy was.  My mom likes to remind me that Cody was her favorite because he was the child who never left!!

Cody loved swimming, playing fetch, going for walks, and eating leftovers from everybody's plates.  He loved attention and company from his family, following us around from room to room and getting VERY excited when the family came home to play with him.  If you were sitting in the room with him, he would come over and nudge your hand onto his head and demand petting in a gentle but persistent fashion. 

Lena loved to spend time with "Uncle" Cody, and always lists him among those she loves.  (Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, Papa,  Carmella, Uncle Jon, Uncle Jeremy, and "Uncle" Cody.  I hope that her  other two uncles aren't offended...)

Recently he had slowed down quite a bit and really aged.  He was becoming incontinent and clearly uncomfortable from many ailments.  So when they put him down this weekend it was his time to go.

But what do we tell Lena?

Josh and I, a rabbi and a cantor, asked each other this question across the dinner table from each other on Saturday night after Lena was in bed (she's sleeping fairly well in her big-girl bed these days, yay!).  Should we wait until she asks?  Tell her that he died?  That he's in doggy heaven?  That his memory lives on thru those loved him?  If a rabbi and a cantor have trouble figuring out what to do, I can't imagine what other parents must struggle with!

When a person dies, there's many rituals to help us deal with our grief-- funeral, shiva, official periods of mourning.  But not really so with a dog, even though as dog-lovers know they are a real member of the family.

I think we'll wait until she asks about "Uncle" Cody, then use it as a teaching opportunity.  Try to figure out how to explain a pet dying to a 3-year-old in very concrete terms, like, "'Uncle' Cody died, he's not here anymore.  He got very very old and his body stopped working and he died.  We're sad, especially Grandma and Grandpa, because we miss him very much.  But we remember that he was a good boy and all the good times we had together."

That wasn't too hard... but what about the other questions that invariably will follow?  I guess we'll just deal with them as we come and try to reassure her that she'll always be taken care of, that Mommy and Daddy aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

As a clergy person, I see death far too often.  In just half an hour I'm going to a funeral of a congregant who died too young-- and happened to also be my dentist.  When we find out about a death, especially an untimely one, we feel shocked, upset, confused, scared, even begin to question God.  I also feel grateful for what I have.  I suppose when you see so much of other people's grief it helps put things in perspective.  I am so lucky to have my parents and Josh's parents healthy and alive.  I am so lucky to have a wonderful husband, a thriving nearly 3-year-old, and healthy fetus inside my womb.  I am so lucky to have the friends and extended family that I do.  I want to appreciate them now-- because as we all know, life is temporary.  Even the best dogs aren't there forever.