Loss

Two weekends ago, we were asked to dogsit Shawna and Amber's dog, Rascal, for four nights. I was looking forward to having a dog in the house. He was extremely well behaved and very patient with Abby. (Abby is on this kick to be an Animal Rescuer. Poor Kali and Maggy and Rascal. She typically drags the much-put-upon dog off to her make-shift "clinic" where she "examines" the dog and "comforts" them after their rescue situation.) Anyhoo, Rascal tolerated Abby very well.

In fact, we had gone camping with him before too. I loved how well he knew that Abby drops food so frequently while camping. So, of course, he'd follow her all over the camp when it was meal time. Then, when I finally parked her fanny in a camp chair to sit and eat, he would park himself just under her right arm rest, waiting for her to gesture and inevitably drop her food. Hysterical.

Well, the weekend after we dogsat, Shawna and Amber took Rascal to visit someone else, and he got into some rat poison. Of course, no one knew it at the time. And a couple days later he had to be put to sleep. All the adults were very upset. It was just so sudden and unexpected.

For us, though, it posed another difficulty. We were going to have to tell Abby. This would be the first time we'd have to talk about death and something she actually knew. Occasionally we had spoken of Lee's folks, or my dad, and the fact that they weren't around anymore for her to see or speak to. But, it was never anyone she had actually known. We just weren't sure how she'd cope with Rascal's death.

So on Saturday we went for a walk and told her that we had some sad news to share. At first, Abby just accepted it. She said she heard us and then started rambling on about the things we could see on our walk. Lee and I just let her be. About an hour or so later, it finally hit her.

"You know that sad news you told me about Rascal, Mommy?"

I nodded, trying hard not to cry because I knew that as soon as she saw me cry than she would too. I wanted to allow her to mourn however she felt comfortable.

"I want to see him again."

Oh boy. Here we go.

As gently as I could, I tried to explain death again. I took my cue from Jenny. When their dog died, she told me about breaking the news to the kids and the tips she had discovered. Primarily, one shouldn't tell kids that the dog was "put to sleep." Your kid might not ever want to sleep after that. So, I stuck with the fact that Rascal's body had stopped working; the veterinarian had tried to help him as much as he could (remember, she currently wants to be an Animal Rescuer); and that Rascal was no longer alive. Then, after a bizarre conversation about Abby wanting to see Rascal's fossilized bones "to better memorize him," I realized she wanted something of him to remember him by.

And then the crying started.

It was a roller coaster ride of crying and demanding, calming down, asking more questions about death, and then more crying. It lasted for about an hour. I think I was as emotionally drained as she was. I tried to be there for her but to also give her some space to mourn as she wanted to. But after 45 minutes, I set about trying to distract her. It eventually worked and she settled down into playing with me in her room.

That was a tough one.