Goodbye, Riley

Dogs are forever alert. If you’ve ever owned one, then you should know what I mean. They might snuggle up to you in bed or on the couch; rest their head… but they are not fully asleep. They are aware of your every movement until the end. Today, I witnessed the end.

It’s difficult to describe even though the image of Riley’s head falling into her paws and ceasing movement is now burned into my brain forever. It didn’t make sense, at first. Before, when she was asleep, all it would take was a groan in the old floor or me getting close to pet her, and her eyes would open. There was no reaction, no satisfied snort when I petted her and tried to comfort her as she was put to sleep today.

The process was quick and appeared painless, but it was the most devastating thing I’ve seen in years. Why?

Maybe it’s because of a dog’s purity. They give near-unconditional love. You have to really screw up to make them hate you. Riley greeted me with a wagging tail every day. She hadn’t even known me from her puppy days and she still gave unconditional love.

My family adopted her nearly six years ago. Back then, we were floored at how well-trained and happy she was. As it turned out, her previous owner had a fiancé who was allergic, and he felt there’d been no choice but to put her up for adoption. My heart goes out to him, wherever he is today. He missed out on six years with a great dog.

Each pet has their own quirks. Maybe that’s why their death hits us so hard. You can get a new pet, but they aren’t truly a replacement. They’ll be a little different. Riley had her share of funny tendencies.

When I would pet her or scratch her belly for long enough, she would become territorial. She’d start growling like Chewbacca, and we would butt heads or she would start licking me until I retreated because I knew where that tongue had been! I’d turn to leave after having my laugh, only to look back and find her laying back down, demanding her belly be scratched again.

One of her strangest habits was nosing her dog bowl around the entire house. We often fed her cooked food, thinking she hated kibble, because of all the nosing. No, that wasn’t it. Even when she was getting ground beef or eggs, she’d nose the bowl through three different rooms and a hall before getting things just right and finally eating.

On walks, Riley was strangely stubborn. She would sniff every leaf on the ground if I let her, and if a person -- especially one walking a dog -- was passing, then she would sit down and park herself until they were gone or came up to say hello. She was a very sociable and inquisitive dog, which didn’t always mix well with me. Sometimes, she would stop on walks and look back over her shoulder for someone who wasn’t there. We first believed that this was her looking for her previous owner, though as the years went along, I started to think it was her feeling ripped off whenever we didn’t encounter another person or dog to investigate.

These personality traits struck a chord with me, and I decided to incorporate the inquisitive and stubborn nature of Riley into one of the main characters in my upcoming book series, Spiritbound. She is even named after her, and the themes of abandonment surrounding this character are somewhat inspired by how I thought she might feel about being put up for adoption and not really understanding it. If you happen to read this after having read Spiritbound or vice-versa… well, now you know that Riley lives on in some way through Rilaena.

I think what really gets me about Riley’s death is that it feels like a betrayal. A dog’s purpose on this Earth is to be happy and spread that happiness. She never wavered on that front. She got people smiling, and her tail was wagging all the way until her final moments. Her wagging tail showed that, even in the unfamiliar animal hospital, and even sensing that something was wrong, she trusted us. She was rewarded with death.

Or maybe that should be rephrased: She was rewarded with rest. That’s what I’m telling myself. Riley’s kidneys had been failing since April. We had her on fluids until today, when she just couldn’t keep water or food down. Her arthritis was also causing her great pain, which meant those walks that she loved so much became shorter. She didn’t whimper while hobbling around or struggling up the stairs, though. Her bright personality never dimmed.

When her head fell to permanent rest, I saw her as a warrior falling in battle. Her battle was to spread cheer, and seeing her wagging tail just moments before, I felt that she never got to complete her work. She was still trying, and that’s what makes it so hard.

Our pets are a reflection of us, in many ways. When a dog is violent or untrained, the owner is often blamed and thought of as uncaring or lazy. In this way, they expose our tendencies. Those who fail to take care of their dog probably don’t take good care of themselves or the people around them.

But I like to think that they might change our reflection a little, too. Taking good care of a dog instills commitment and responsibility in the owner, and the reward is unconditional love and joy that tends to spread. And maybe, when Riley was trying to be sociable and took her time, she was teaching me a lesson in her own funny way. Maybe she wanted me to join in her battle.

Just because her battle has ended, doesn’t mean I can’t pick up where she left off, occasionally. I don’t think man’s purpose on this Earth is to be happy and spread happiness, but if I can do it just a little more, then it will be worth it; if not for me, then for her.

Rest in Peace, Smiley Riley

• Jim