
Finding Comfort in Our Habits
Dogs are creatures of habit. They like routines. In our house, the highlight of my dogs’ morning, other than breakfast, is going to see the chickens. But before that happens, they have to wait on me. After getting up, I work out. The dogs will lie on their beds, patiently waiting for me to finish. If Marlee, my 11-year-old lab, feels the workout has gone on a little too long, he will come up and start licking me or lie down on my mat. After my workout, I shower, get dressed, and head down the stairs. JacX will run down the steps ahead, announcing her excitement to all within earshot. This daily trip includes throwing the ball for Marlee as JacX chases after him with a training bumper in her mouth. We work our way up the garden trail, through the woods, and into the front field for more ball throwing and lots of smells to check out. I do believe it is one of the best parts of their day, second only to food.
A few months ago, we very unexpectedly lost Marlee. One day, he was running on the beach, and the next day, we had to put him down. I was out of town and had to say goodbye to him on FaceTime. When I returned home the next day, I felt the loss of my buddy as soon as I walked into the house.
The following day, after finishing my workout, JacX and I went up to see the chickens. JacX ran out of the garage with her hair up and started hunting for Marlee. When we reached the end of the patio, she stood there, waiting for him. Tears flowed as I watched her, giving her time to process this loss. Then, we slowly walked down the garden trail. It felt so empty without Marlee.
In my grief, I decided I no longer needed to make those morning trips. I could visit the chickens later in the day. And without Marlee to chase around, I figured JacX wouldn’t want to go anyway.
So, I changed my morning routine and didn’t think much about it. A few days later, in the kitchen after my workout, I saw JacX staring at me. I told her to go lie down, but she was having none of it.
Finally, looking at things from her perspective, I asked her, “Do you want to go see the chickens?” She started jumping around me.
What I realized at that moment was that while I was grieving the loss of Marlee, JacX was grieving too, and she needed the comfort of that routine in her life. So, we restarted our morning routine, although it isn’t the same. It still feels empty without him, but we’ve changed it slightly to feel more like “our” routine.
Since that day, I have started taking her up to see the chickens multiple times a day, and she gets so excited every time.
Often, as I walk down that garden path, I think of my clients and friends who have experienced significant loss in their lives, some much greater than the loss of a dog. Continuing to move forward is hard. Sometimes, it feels like something we can’t do. But I find the strength when I think about Marlee and all the joy he brought to my life. During those moments, I realize that it isn’t just about me: I need to think beyond myself, think about the people who are depending on me, those who love me and support me.
To all of you who have comforted me these past few months, thank you from the bottom of my heart. And to those experiencing grief and needing someone to listen, I am here, willing to listen with an open heart.