sophe509 Asked January 2016
Do others miss their passed on pets more than their passed on relatives?
Follow
Share
I don't mean disrespect here, but it seems that way... I have a little dog that lived with me for 20 years (!); I miss her every day. My one parent who has passed on so far, not so much.
This question has been closed for answers. Ask a New Question.
17 Answers
This question has been closed for answers. Ask a New Question.
Popular Questions
Ask a Question
I'm in Canada. Ashy, a black lab, was pulled from a shelter in Louisiana and I saw her picture online the day she was pulled, the most awful ear infection they'd ever seen, blood pouring down her face. I didn't know if she'd eat little Sue or the cats, I just knew I was hers and three weeks later, in April 2013, she came home. She's about 10 now, the sweetest creature and I can't imagine my life without her. It's been a very rough few years and I think she saved me, not the other way around. I live on close to 2 acres with a big fenced backyard. The house is tiny but I keep looking for ways to make more room for perhaps ...
Never looked for a dog or bought one, somehow they find me but as I'm older than dirt I've vowed only to adopt seniors so I hopefully don't leave anyone behind.
As a child, I had trust issues as well. The only creatures I could trust were the animals in our farm. I understood them, they understood me. When they gave birth, I was there. Even snakes, looking for a quick meal, didn't run away. Somehow they sensed I didn't mean them any harm.
So no Jessie, there's nothing wrong with your psyche. Pets are great stress relievers, and comfort you when you're feeling down. Their love is unconditional.
I'd rather surround myself with animals than people. Which probably explains why I need a woman in my life; but not in my house right now. It's not that easy for me to trust.
Yup. People would stop on their tracks when I called my dogs at St. Mary's Park. The NYPD's 41st Precinct loved B__ch, she was their mascot. Parents around the neighborhood forbade their children to repeat her name because it was a "bad" word. Yet they themselves called each other "MF," "N_GER," "HO," and other obscenities that never fit my tongue.
White Boy was so strong he'd climb into the squad cars through the window. Midnight was a plain mercenary. Most of the time his obedience was measured by how well you fed him. Handed down from one owner to another, he didn't trust people. I watched him roam the streets with his head down; depressed. I was looking out the window one Sunday morning as he laid in the middle of an intersection, crossed his front legs, and waited for a car to run him over. A crowd, most of them kids, gathered around to see if a vehicle would eventually crush him to death. Two trucks barely missed him, as I kept saying "That's too bad. I already have enough dogs." An hour later he was still there, bent on suicide. I gave him to my heart, ran down the steps, and threw him over my shoulder. Took a while to gain his trust.
Flynn, cute in an ugly sort of way perhaps, was a lot like White Boy. I had a mouser called P___ycat, and he was her only protection against B__ch. For years I wondered how she managed to stay alive vis-à-vis a dog that literally wanted to eat her. I lent P___ to a slobbish friend of mine who never cleaned his house, but he fixed her and she stopped hunting mice. The old maid is still alive, demanding food and walking around with her tail up as if to say "Kiss my ___ grits. ... No food, no affection."
About your husband, maybe Flynn reminded him of the devoted, loving man he wanted to be but just didn't get around to it. No insult.
On the Puerto Rican side of the family, my relatives are dropping like flies. Boo, hoo, hoo. Amazing how quickly they become saints. A nephew was gunned down last August; abruptly ending his meteoric rise as a drug dealer. He was only 20. I didn't shed a tear, nor attended his funeral. Uncle Felipe beat his wife every Friday for over 30 years -- sc__ew him. My mother, a consummate emotional blackmailer who's been reenacting the Passion for who knows how long just called me a couple hours ago telling me -- again -- she's going to the hospital. "I might not come out alive," she said. ... I can't wait.
To make a long story short, any pet that stays overnight at my home becomes a family member after 24 hours. No way I'll give them back after that. My dogs were a barometer of my efficacy as a responsible, loving father. I felt as if having 5 kids instead of 2; and there was nothing wrong with that.
Whenever I see people treating each other like garbage and fighting about the pettiest things, I wonder who the real animals are. My dogs were a lot more civil and respecting than that.
I haven't lost a child (thank God) but I have lost several pets. I lost a cat two years ago and I can still feel her soft fluffy weight in my arms and I miss that so much. And losing a dog is so hard because of the way they communicate with you; it's like a whole private little language that you develop with a dog and losing that is so hard. Not to mention seeing your beloved fur-kids sick or in pain. So sad, and you feel so responsible for them! Definitely I miss my pets more, yet I wonder what that really says about the relationships some of us have as grown-ups with our parents.
It's apples and oranges. Your not snuggling on the couch with your 80s dementia parent every night. Nor can you have parents uthanized when the quality of life is gone. It's really kinda backwards. An elders death is always hard but it's a different, deeper grief and it can take a long time to sort out the emotions, guilt, anger etc. depending on the relationship you had.