sinead-timminsThanks to all of you who sent me e-mails and to those of you who recognized my need for quiet. I closed comments on that last post because there was a certain theme of commentary that I just didn’t need to read. Somehow, probably through some of my science posts, I’ve attracted some militant animal rights activists to my blog. I would have thought they would gone away when they realized that supporting animal testing isn’t the primary purpose of this blog, but everytime I write something about science or liking meat or anything vaguely animal related they pop up and leave me anonymous nasty comments or send me anonymous vitriolic e-mails.

I had hoped that they would recognize my state of emotional distress, but that was too optimistic.

I usually don’t respond to these trolls. I generally delete their comments and trash their e-mails. But seriously, what kind of person leaves me an anonymous comment telling me I “suck” for making what was one of the most difficult decisions I’ve made in my life? What kind of person sends me an anonymous e-mail calling me a murderer? Go to hell, you cowards.

J3888x2592-15266There is a dog shaped hole in my heart that doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller. But I still don’t question my decision. If there was one thing I admired about the last American president it was his seeming ability to make a decision and stand by it. Maybe in the dead of night, he struggled to sleep while going over and over his choice to invade a random Middle Eastern country, but he certainly didn’t show any evidence of uncertainty. “The Decider” often came off pugnacious and unreasonable, but no matter what you thought of him, you’ve got to give him credit for his decisiveness.

I do the same thing, or try to do so. When I make a decision, the decision is made and I don’t lose any sleep thinking about it. Second guessing does no good, just leaves one mired in “what ifs”. When Timmins bit Boy Z, there was only one course of action. Perhaps the most important job I’ve got as a father is to protect my sons and when Timmins attacked, Timmins had to go.

J3888x2592-14851That doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. It’s not that I’m callous or that I reacted in anger. I was never angry at the dog. Even right after he bit Boy Z, my response wasn’t out of anger it was instinct. There were a lot of emotions rattling around – sadness, guilt, regret, relief – but none of them were anger. I loved that dog. He was a part of my family. He was so much a part of the last eight and a half years, so much a part of my life. Omnipresent, often stiflingly so – always making travel and housing more of a challenge. But his presence, was a grounding influence in what had been a volatile time in my life. I dragged Timmins over three different continents to give me some sense of constancy. Wherever in the world I was, if Timmins was there, I was home. ‘Constant as a Northern star.’

J1639x1203-19630Those of you who aren’t dog owners may not understand all this wringing of hands and rending of garments and that’s fair enough. If I see a blog post in which one of the main characters is a cat, I usually move on. But those of you who are dog owners and those of you who have lost a dog know what I’m going through. Now that my extended family has gone back to Florida and we’re back home and back into the regularity of normal life, everything evokes the dog. The house still smells of him. Every time I walk out on the porch, I expect to hear the scrabbling noise of Timmins galloping up the stairs to greet me. And a little part of me dies when I don’t hear it. I listen expectantly for his whining howl to be fed when we’re making the popcorn at night. I miss the required walks – morning and evening, rain or shine. I tear up when I see clots of white hair in the nooks and crannies of our life.

I was going to use this post to eulogize my dog, but then I realized that I’ve already done it. More than once:

I’ve said it all before and I don’t have the heart to say it all again. I miss him. I miss him like I lost a member of my family. And I did. No matter how many times I wake up, stumble into the kitchen to make my coffee and listen I’m never going to hear him whining and howling excitedly for his morning walk again. I know the dog shaped hole will eventually close up, but until then maybe you horrible little trolls could stay away from my site.

Rest in peace, you damn good dog.

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