I'm still in an emotional hole after Duncan's death, still feel like part of how I live my life, how I defined myself, has been ripped away. It's like expecting another step at the bottom of a staircase and being brought up short. You don't fall, but it's jarring.
Shortly before he died, a friend asked me how I defined 'home.' (I think she was asking to see if I had any hints on making a new place seem familiar.) I told her home was where Duncan was, and I meant it. But also, I've referred to hotel rooms as 'home'- because that's where my family was staying, or where Duncan and I were sleeping. It's never really been a place or particular building for me.
I had another friend ask me how long it hurts once you've lost a good dog. I don't know. Twink died in February 2005, my parents told me in March (didn't want to mess up my midterms at college.) I found Duncan in May of 2007, but didn't really fall in love with him until Nov/Dec that year. Nearly three years to stop grieving Twink enough to make room for loving Duncan... but I still missed her.
Twink died more than a decade ago. I still have moments I miss her deeply. I burst into tears during a rescue transport because the dog looked and moved so much like her it was like seeing her ghost. (Thankfully the rescue was moving that doppelganger girly new home or I'd likely have tried to adopt her.) Mostly I've moved on to being grateful for the smiles and the memories, for how she thwarting my efforts to harm myself.
Duncan died 7 months and 11 days ago. I'm crying as I type this, and there are still unexpected tidal waves of grief when I think of him. I still have trouble talking about him without getting choked up. I have trouble sorting through grief of him as a loved one, and grief of a service dog that worked so well for me that asking for his help felt like an extension of myself. I started grieving when he had to retire, and had only sort of come to grips with not having his help in public (still relying on him a fair bit at home) when he died.
It's hard to explain what it's like to be part of a properly matched service dog team. Where I was weak, he shored me up. I took care of his every need. We were together 24/7. While I have never had a child or a spouse, it's got to be a bit like being a parent, or being married (only, the SD also goes to work with you and is a coworker, a caregiver, a roommate, a friend, a confidant....) Duncan was a facet of my understanding of myself. When it came to knowing when I'd fall, he knew me better than I knew myself, and he warned me.
So I feel like I've lost my home, though I live in the same house. I feel like I've lost a defining part of me, and a safety net for when my body fails me (Keeper does alert, but not with as much warning or with as much 'listen to me now' authority). I'm still grieving him deeply, though I am reaching the point where I can sometimes tell stories and smile about him and remember the joy he brought to my life. I hope I remember more of the joy and get more distance from the pain.
Strider was easier to grieve- it wasn't going to work, I returned him to a wonderful woman (his breeder), who found him a fantastic home (where he's earning titles, having adventures, and making more great dogs for other people to love). Still, I had him 8 months, and grieved maybe a year? I don't have a firm timeline. I don't really know how long I'll grieve for Duncan.
I do know that what's making it bearable is 100 pounds of fluffy, derpy, ridiculousness. Keeper is not Duncan, and she's not Strider. In some ways she's similar to Twink. Still, she's her own being, and she is generally full of love and happiness. She makes me smile in spite of my fear and my grief. She got me through the worst of Duncan's unexpected death. I have hopes she'll see me through puppy raising and training her successor. (I really don't do well with the sheer work most puppies are to raise from 8 weeks to ~4 months.)
I have four days off work to just be home and rest, or only do what I want to do. And I'm happy that I have Keeper at work and at home. Last night she stole a sock of mine from the hamper, went and laid down and used it as a pillow. I love her. She loves me more. It's a weird and humbling thing to realize that I may have to support her on being brave and convincing her strange things won't eat her (dino costumes come to mind), but that she is exactly the dog I needed to ease me through Strider's career change and Duncan's death.
There are times she irritates me (So much licking. Ew.); times she exasperates me (crate training took forever); times I despair about her not learning or retaining as much as the boys (she doesn't have their language skills and her vision isn't great for hand signals); and sometimes I sit and worry about what skills she hasn't learned as well as I'd hoped. However, what she does now, she does solidly, and she has learned a lot.
In addition, she's unfailingly sweet, her happiness is infectious, and she's a balm to the jagged edges of my soul. I don't know what sort of emotional wreckage I'd be without her. I do know that with her help, I'm still able to pass for a functional adult.
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