Grief, loss, and off-leash dogs

Letting Ari and Daisy off-leash is difficult for me. My fear of losing them is massive. They have become - like it or not - the center of my world. Daisy ran away two weeks after I adopted her. It was an anguish-filled two hours. They also both happen to have incredible prey drives. When a squirrel or bird comes into their field of vision, I am chop liver.

And after Josh died, I had a talk with both pups and with Goddess: Please, please, please don’t leave me. I bargained. At least not for another few dozen years.

I know that nothing stays forever. At least not in the physical world that my human self knows. But losing Josh reinforced the temporariness of life. That who and what I love can be gone in an instant. That who and what becomes an anchor for me in this world, I will eventually lose. It has made that fact all the more real.

And I see the pure joy when these two get to run around chasing each other, dashing through the shallow waters (Ari), and enticing new friends to chase them (Daisy). It fills me with utter delight and I am terrified when I watch Ari chase after another dog into the brush, beyond my sight.

Only to see her bounding back to me with a huge grin on her face, her paws and underbelly coated in sticky sand.

To witness them unleash their wild dog natures is worth my momentary flicks of anxiety. I am touching my fears around loss and death. I notice the more I practice trusting them in this way - watching them run off, then return again and again - is building some kind of new thing within me. Acknowledging my fears around death and loss and setting them free (when it’s safe) anyway. 

We all return home, delightfully exhausted. It is an honor to watch them doze off into their sweet doggy dreams about their most recent adventures.