Blog
April 6, 2026
Dear Nicholas, I’ve found a book that’s helping me do much less self-berating and maybe a little less trying-too-hard. I read a paragraph every morning and I’m on my second time through it. I’m convinced that berating yourself (myself) is the only true waste of time–and is also destructive. The title does not do it […]
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February 16, 2026
Dear Nicholas, My first 76 years of life were decidedly free-wheeling. For one thing, I’ve been self-employed since 1972, setting my own schedules. For years, much of my work was far-flung travel writing. Moreover, I’ve never had responsibility for a child. Domesticity has never been my thing. It has come as a surprise to me […]
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December 14, 2025
Dear Nicholas, There’s a special kind of pain in watching someone you love hurt. Likely all of us have had this experience. And there is no painkiller that touches the one watching their loved one in pain. If it’s prolonged and repeated, there comes a fierce tensing up in reaction, as if to defend him, […]
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September 18, 2025
Dear Nicholas, It’s not as if Bob and I are under fire in Gaza or Ukraine, but our week of household problems has been impressive. And sometimes non-life-and-death things, the household catastrophe, can really rattle a person. The title of this note could be: The Night The Waterbed Burst. I got up in the wee […]
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July 13, 2025
Dear Nicholas, I’ve learned that sadness and loss can make a person temporarily “stupid.” Not just for hours but for much longer. I thought I was the only one and that I was being weird to react this way. This time I have discovered that “stupid” happens to lots of people who are mourning. I’ve […]
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June 23, 2025
Dear Nicholas, Some years ago when I was attempting to “get a grip,” I wrote down in a little blue notebook random bits of wisdom on how to live better. I carried it with me in my pocketbook. Some days I’d open the notebook at any page and let what I’d copied there influence that […]
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June 3, 2025
Dear Nicholas, In the midst of getting Husband Bob out of rehab and settled in at home for 24/7 care, I overheard my older stepson say of me, “She’s so strong it’s creepy.” Do I take this as a compliment, a criticism, a misunderstanding? How Could Anyone Think That? I’m not Iron Woman. I know […]
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May 12, 2025
Dear Nicholas, A voice from some hidden place inside me keeps calling, “mama mama!”, the way severely wounded soldiers sometimes do. The voice keeps speaking up in spite of the fact that I’m feeling fine. The words come out of me aloud and only when I’m alone. The other cry for help I’m sometimes surprised […]
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April 28, 2025
Dear Nicholas, I’ve given up on being completely sensible, realistic, no-nonsense (I never made a lot of effort in that direction.) I’ve realized that some outright delusions are good for my happiness and mental health. I think of these ideas as optimism, which works for matters large and small. I realized one morning recently when […]
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February 24, 2025
Dear Nicholas, Husband Bob (age 83) and I (age 76) are both deeply sad at the loss of our dog Carlo, more affected than I can remember us being at other such losses. Is it our age? Is it harder to lose a pet when you’re old and so much more aware of mortality? Or […]
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Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: being alive, compassionate veterinarian, deeply sad, intense emotionceremonyaware of mortality, lose a pet, loss of our dog, Mithra Nalluri, pure love, sacrament
Comments
I teared up at Carlo raising up to acknowledge Bob….so achingly sweet.
For me, the longer I had a pet, the more grieved I was when they died. But nine years is a lot and I know it will take you a long time to get over. I’m sorry for your loss. I think you did so well by him at the end .
“Achingly sweet” describes it perfectly, Judy. Thanks for your sympathy.
Oh, Peggy, mu heart aches for you and Bob. I know the pain of this kind of loss all too well. I think it gets harder as we age, not easier, in part because every fresh loss invokes all the others that came before, all the goodbyes, all the consciousness of what we will never again experience in quite the same way, for as we know, our beloved animal companions have souls and personalities every bit as distinctive and individual as our fellow humans. I am so sorry. But what a touching and beautiful farewell you gave your sweet, good boy. He knew he was loved right through to the end, and that is perhaps all that any of us can hope for. Sending you much love.
And thank you for this touching and beautiful response, Christina. He was indeed “a sweet, good boy.” I hang onto the idea that he knew how much he was loved. And I have some idea how much you’ve been through of this experience.
Oh, Peggy and Bob, I am so sad you have lost Carlo. What a touching story you’ve shared about his going. When my Simon was dying he hid himself from us, climbed behind things in our walk-in closet where he never went. That’s how we knew the time had come. At the vet we sat on the floor and held him. We fed him ice cream and the last thing he did before he closed his eyes was lift his head and lick me on the nose. I felt like I was reliving that when I read what you wrote about Carlo lifting his head to look at Bob. I am so glad you both were able to be with him at the end. Your sweet Bob said to me some time ago (and I may be remembering it wrongly), “All we can really do is walk each other home.” Love to Peggy and Bob and Carlo. Lee
Just read this aloud to Bob, Lee. We both thank you. And I appreciate the send-off you gave Simon. Thank you for giving us that. You quoted Bob correctly, he still says that, “All we can really do is walk each other home.” I’ve heard it many times. There’s so much that can happen on that walk.
So sorry you’ve lost a dear companion. It’s so hard to let them go because of that love. Hugs.
Thank you, Gai!
Peggy,
This post brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful, moving story, and what a wrenching loss. Confession: I dread the future loss of our beloved dog more than I do some of the other humans in my life.
I love the respectful and humane way you dealt with Carlo’s last days. I’m so sorry — I know this hurts.
May your beloved doggie live forever, Mary! Thank you. And a belated happy birthday to you.