Monday, March 16, 2009
Our Silas
We had to put Silas down today. Well, I had to put Silas down. For some reason, Dad's the one that has to do these things. He had cancer. There's too much cancer in this world. I'm sick of it. Anyways, as I was driving back from the vet a few minutes ago, I was thinking about how I would tell Aaron that Silas wasn't jumping down from the truck bed. He wasn't coming home. We told him this morning that it would be unlikely that when we took Silas to the vet today that he would "make it."
This thinking of Aaron made me think of Silas' role in our lives. He was a gift for Kate. We had suffered two miscarriages a couple years before, and we were unsuccessful in trying for more children. We eventually gave up for awhile, and it was then that I thought we should invest our time into getting a dog. We brought Silas home, and he fell asleep between the two of us in bed that first night. He was such a wonderful friend from the beginning. Although I gave it to Kate, he really became my dog rather quickly.
When we had Aaron, he became the best "big brother". I know I sound like I'm humanizing a dog, but he honestly acted like one at times. Aaron would crawl after him, grab for his tail, and Silas would just sit there quietly until Aaron let go. When Aaron got old enough to walk and run, Silas was the first one who wanted to chase him around the house and yard.
He and Gracie were inseparable. Gracie would run through the sprinkler, Silas would run after her. Gracie would watch television, sitting on the floor, with her head resting on Silas' stomach. When Gracie died, Silas sat at her door every night for weeks. He couldn't figure out why she wasn't going in and out of the door.
For me, he played a big role in my grieving process. I know he's just a dog, but just sitting there patiently while I cried into his fur on some nights was wonderful therapy. It was like he knew our pain, and he did the only thing he could do; be a companion. I haven't seen the movie "Marley and Me," but I heard it's sad. I don't really want to see it now. But, there is something about yellow labradors that are beautiful.
Every afternoon on my ride up the driveway from work, I'd see Silas standing on the porch waiting for my truck to stop. When it did, he'd come running to the driver's side door, barking like a crazy thing, and wait for me to open it up. When I did, he'd lick my hand like he hadn't seen me in weeks. He did the same with Kate when she'd pull up the driveway. He was a loyal friend to Aaron. He was just a great dog.
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2 comments:
What a beautiful companion God has blessed you with. I know losing an animal can be as hard as losing a child. Prayers are with you during yet another loss in your family.
I hope your mission trip will revitalize you somehow. It's no wonder your joy has been diminished....you have been through alot. May God use your pain to not only strengthen you, but to also strengthen those he puts in your path who are going down the same road. I know if something tragic were to happen in my life that I would be able to carry on because of your honesty and willingness to share in your pain, much as the Chapmans are doing. May God bless richly those who are mourning and yet keeping hope alive. You are all a wonderful witness.
JB, I cried when I opened your blog last night and saw the picture of your Silas. You see, my husband and I had to put our yellow lab, Lady, to sleep on Saturday morning. She was 13 years old, and we told our children that in people terms that would have made her 94. She was such a wonderful companion. I miss my dog, and I am so sorry that your family is suffering this pain too.
I read your entry about being a goofy dad, and it made me think of my husband after his father died. I used to call him my fourth kid, but after Dad passed he "grew up" in terms of silliness. Still a work in progress, as we all are, but I can see God working in Him. I prayed that God would bring you comfort in the loss of your Silas, and that the joy be brought back for you as only God can. God bless you and your family, friend.
Ann from Chicagoland
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