I think my dead dog gives me nods from the rainbow bridge. (dog stories part 1)
Are you familiar with the Rainbow Bridge? According to the sappy condolence card we received from the doggy ER, the rainbow bridge is where your pet goes to frolic with other dead pets until you die and cross the bridge into Heaven together.
A nice thought, perhaps, but the story was so overly dripping with sentiment, I made phone calls to share the good humor and could not get past the first couple lines without going into laughter induced crying fits -- I had to compose myself several times a call, especially when it got to the part where my dog would one day take pause from frolicking as she noticed my familiar face in the distance -- she will run to me, we will embrace, I will caress her head and body, then we will cross that bridge... together.
My kids love the story, even my sarcastic teen -- so on the fridge it is. I can't help but wonder every time I see it -- which one of us will she cross with? And will all my pets come running or just the dogs? Will I turn into Cesar Milan when I die? Will I be Dr. Doolittle or just a pack leader?
I know it's not nice to pick on someone's sincere effort to be consoling, but my keen sense of the ridiculous could not get past the comic issues this particular piece of comfort had to offer. Hysterical laughter is healing, so in a round about way, the bridge story did it's consoling job.
The Rainbow Bridge was not the only form of healing humor via the sap factor. The week we buried Izzy I was doing dishes and thinking about what a great dog she was and of some of the good times we had together. I was really getting worked up and missing her -- this went on for several minutes until I realized I was humming -- not just humming, but humming The Way We Were.
I knew our friend Jeffrey -- who also loved Izzy very much -- would appreciate sharing in the humor of the moment, so I called him. Jeffrey -- one of the 36 just people walking the planet and our own personal Dog Whisperer -- found the humor and said my grief induced lapse into Streisand was okay, "as long as you don't start watching Brian's Song."
Oh, how we laughed and laughed.
I finished the dishes and several other household chores. At the end of the day I went to my room, sat in my comfy chair, clicked on the TV and what do you think was on?
That's right -- Brian's Song.
Could it be that my dog was using her new ghostly powers to manipulate a television station into playing a certain movie and then getting me to sit down to watch it?
That dead Izzy -- she's a funny one. This was one of three (so far) Chicken Soup type moments I've had regarding the dog. Stay Tuned for parts two and three...
A nice thought, perhaps, but the story was so overly dripping with sentiment, I made phone calls to share the good humor and could not get past the first couple lines without going into laughter induced crying fits -- I had to compose myself several times a call, especially when it got to the part where my dog would one day take pause from frolicking as she noticed my familiar face in the distance -- she will run to me, we will embrace, I will caress her head and body, then we will cross that bridge... together.
My kids love the story, even my sarcastic teen -- so on the fridge it is. I can't help but wonder every time I see it -- which one of us will she cross with? And will all my pets come running or just the dogs? Will I turn into Cesar Milan when I die? Will I be Dr. Doolittle or just a pack leader?
I know it's not nice to pick on someone's sincere effort to be consoling, but my keen sense of the ridiculous could not get past the comic issues this particular piece of comfort had to offer. Hysterical laughter is healing, so in a round about way, the bridge story did it's consoling job.
The Rainbow Bridge was not the only form of healing humor via the sap factor. The week we buried Izzy I was doing dishes and thinking about what a great dog she was and of some of the good times we had together. I was really getting worked up and missing her -- this went on for several minutes until I realized I was humming -- not just humming, but humming The Way We Were.
I knew our friend Jeffrey -- who also loved Izzy very much -- would appreciate sharing in the humor of the moment, so I called him. Jeffrey -- one of the 36 just people walking the planet and our own personal Dog Whisperer -- found the humor and said my grief induced lapse into Streisand was okay, "as long as you don't start watching Brian's Song."
Oh, how we laughed and laughed.
I finished the dishes and several other household chores. At the end of the day I went to my room, sat in my comfy chair, clicked on the TV and what do you think was on?
That's right -- Brian's Song.
Could it be that my dog was using her new ghostly powers to manipulate a television station into playing a certain movie and then getting me to sit down to watch it?
That dead Izzy -- she's a funny one. This was one of three (so far) Chicken Soup type moments I've had regarding the dog. Stay Tuned for parts two and three...
posted by kim at
9:45 AM
3 Comments:
Wow- I'm sorry to hear about Izzy...but that's awesome that the condolance card from the vet is keeping you laughing. Sometimes you just gotta.
Izzy died in June and I still can't believe she's gone. She was just one of those dogs.
Sometimes you just gotta.
Sometimes you just gotta is right. What a funny story about the card.
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