Losing a pet is hard. It’s very different from losing a human family member or friend. The grief for a pet is real. It’s also uncomplicated. Our relationships with pets exist entirely in the physical realm. We care for them and they respond to us. There’s often a real attachment marked by affection.

A pet is a constant presence. Like small children, our pets depend on us for everything. But children grow up. In the best case, they move on to lead independent lives. Indeed, our kid left a couple of years ago. The dog stayed.

Hali’s arthritis got worse as she got older. She was weaker. Her limp was pronounced. We increased her pain meds.

She couldn’t manage the stairs. We bought a harness so we could half-carry her up and down. Then one day, she lost interest in food. We knew the end was near.

We contacted our vet, who advised us to let Hali rest and to give her treats, including some that we’d never feed to a healthy dog. She discovered peanut butter cups.

An End and a Beginning

The vet also gave us a recommendation for in-home pet euthanasia services. Hali was in pain, her condition was not going to improve. We decided it was time to let her go. We made the call. A few hours later, she was gone, leaving a dog-shaped hole in our lives.

It wasn’t long before we started browsing photos of adoptable dogs online.

“I’m just looking,” I assured my husband. He wasn’t fooled.

A sweet-looking Labrador retriever caught my eye. I sent a note to the sponsoring organization and got a reply that encouraged me to fill out an application. We’d be matched with a dog, but not necessarily the one who had piqued my interest.

The application process would take a while, we thought. But within a couple of days, we got a call from Golden Bond Rescue. “May we interview you this week?” followed by “We’d like to schedule a home visit.”

Then came the big question: “Would you be willing to take two dogs? They’re a bonded pair, and we don’t want to separate them.”

Of course we agreed. Who could resist those faces?

Our little family now includes two sweet, 5-year old Labrador retrievers, a brother and sister from the same litter. They’re settling in nicely. They amuse us with their antics, they cover us with affection and hair — also known as Labrador glitter. And they fill every nook and cranny of the dog-shaped hole that Hali’s loss left behind.

We have loved and lost three dogs in the past 20 years. After they passed on, we invariably found another dog — or in this case, a pair of dogs — who needed us as much as we needed them.

Each time, the dog-shaped hole is filled with simple affection that is the best salve for our simple grief.