I have lived that unmentionable sadness and pain many times in my life and sometimes have really felt that part of me had been torn out of my body. We had the most amazing Swiss Mountain Dog; she belonged to our youngest son Scott. Her brother Rascal had belonged to our older son, Paul and had died the year before of cancer. Rascal’s death came as a surprise and none of us realized what was wrong with him, nor the severity of his condition until we airlifted him to West Palm Beach and he left us three days later.

After his death I became totally obsessed with Star’s (his sister) health. Having seen Rascal’s decline I was well prepared with what to look for. However this “gift” of preparation worked against me and every time the poor dog looked sideways, or God forbid, coughed, I was on the verge of hysterics.  I knew that Star had a huge likelihood of getting cancer and I was terrified of loosing her. I really became paranoid over this wonderful and gentle dog. The good thing that came of it was that I organized my life to spend countless hours with her, playing, hugging, driving and sharing walks with her. Her last 18 months on this earth were filled with all the things that made her happiest. I look back on those months and I realize that I had formed a bond with this wonderful, gentle, and pretty dog that many people would not, and could not, believe and understand. I frustrate my son’s when I say that Star was my canine soul mate, but we did have a level of communication that was truly special.

Star was diagnosed with malignant Histiocytosis in mid October and in spite of all the medical care in the world, she passed away at home, peacefully, on February 15th (exactly sis months ago today). Those four months were a learning curve, like no other, for me. The first hurdle was coming to terms with her illness, the second was realizing that she would leave us, the third was coping with the pain and dread that had moved into my heart, and the final hurdle, was dealing with the people who clearly thought that I was mad. Another enormous frustration was that all the money and will in the world would not make any difference.

Her four months of illness made me look at so many things in our lives, not just doggy lives. She was ever brave, and her tail never stopped wagging. She was so full of dignity. When our vet came out to see her on the last day, I knew that the end was near, I was terrified that we would have to make the decision to put her to sleep the next day and I prayed to God, as I sat stroking her, that he would take her peacefully, at home, that afternoon. We were supposed to go out that night, but because she was slowing down, we stayed home watching TV. I checked on her during each every commercial, she was lying on the carpet in my study (where I write this tonight) and would lift her head slightly and wag her tail… At 9:20 she wagged, at 9:35 when I went in: she was silent… peaceful, lying there in her final sleep. I cried but I honestly thanked God far answering my prayers and taking her home kindly...

The next day when I spoke to Dr. Val Grant (who had cared for her so remarkably well and had shown her such love and compassion), he told me that he too had prayed to God to take her peacefully and excuse him from having to help her on her way.

Now, how do you cope with the pain and sorrow? As I write this article tonight, six months later, my tears fall freely on the key board, I am not ashamed, nor do I try to hide them, there is absolutely nothing wrong with having loved a pet, an animal, and being sad when they have died.

I have written about a dog because that is who has recently passed away in my life and touched me, but the emotions are not limited to a dog, This article could have been written about a cat, horse, fish, bird or any other pet you may be blessed with.

When the first jolt of pain hits you, you honestly feel that there can be no other pet in your life. However it is amazing how much space there is in your heart and there is always an extra few inches of love to go to another animal that wiggles into your life.

When we lost Star we had a young and enthusiastic Potcake called Chief. That young dog was absolutely amazing how he comforted me and how he went out of his doggy way to be there for me, to snuggle me and to always make me smile and laugh. I love Spats, Abba, Chief and our new Buddy to bits. I will always miss Star, and there is a corner in my heart reserved for her memory. However I will go on owning and loving pets for the remainder of my life.

The fulfillment of loving is so great; therefore the pain of losing is so great, because there is always a price to pay.  Keeping that in mind you can never have the highs without the lows, the higher you soar the lower you will fall.

You must NEVER let the sadness and void stop you from opening your heart up to having another pet. Each and every pet you have will bring you warmth and a very special something that no other has.

Enjoy your pets. Love them as if there is no tomorrow, face the sadness openly and move on to love yet another wonderful animal, without ever forgetting the ones who came before.

About the author: Kim Aranha grew up in the Berry Islands with her first dog, a beloved potcake named “Friendly” (who was anything but!).  First educated at home, and then in boarding school in Switzerland, Kim moved to Rome, Italy in 1974 to pursue a career in the dramatic arts and ended up working as an interpreter.  She moved back to The Bahamas in 1980, and now lives in Nassau with her husband Paul, and their two teenaged sons.  Kim has 3 dogs (soon to be 4), 5 fish (1 Beta, 4 Goldfish), 10 turtles (6 babies, 4 adolescents), 1 Asian box turtle and 4 Budgerigars. Her idea of relaxing is being home to take care of all her pets. Kim is a member of the board of the Bahamas Humane Society. Kim can be contacted at kimbva@coralwave.com