When You’ve Lost A Pet
April 23, 2024
“That’s the most expensive free beagle we’ve ever had!”
The comment came from my husband, Don, after our beloved beagle, Hilary, chewed the bark off our lone tree in the backyard and it died. We loved her anyway. Pet lovers will understand.
We had had a wonderful beagle as a newly married couple. Pogo was his name and he was quiet, sensitive to our moods, even intervening once when Don and I had a disagreement. Perhaps I raised my voice—I don’t remember. But Pogo went to where Don was sitting and stood there as though to say Don should have the last word. We both burst out laughing. That settled our disagreement.
Our Topeka neighbors called us to tell us they saw an advertisement for free beagle puppies in Silver Lake. That’s how we got Hilary who was given the name by the girls. She was an outside dog and she loved to bark. She slept in a doghouse in the garage. We had a doggy door, which she chewed up. One night, I went into the garage to pet her and say goodnight. She had settled into her doghouse. I reached in and my hand felt a strange object. I looked in and there was a deceased rabbit and a contented-looking beagle. The rabbit must have made an unfortunate trip through our yard. That necessitated a discussion with Laura and Rebecca about the circle of life!
Laura made a memory box for Hilary and inside placed her leash and collar.
Hilary loved each family member. When Don and I divorced, she was a great comfort. But she was still loyal to Don. She must have continued to think of him as “the pack leader,” as animals often do of the male member of the family. Once when Don came by the house, she was in the front yard and was overcome with joy, demonstrated by barking and running around the front yard.
I moved to a nearby neighborhood and former neighbors came for a visit whom we hadn’t seen in a while. Bonnie and Marie had oftentimes come by and given Hilary a dog biscuit and other treats. I ushered them out to the backyard. Hilary saw them and couldn’t contain her excitement. She ran round and round the backyard and we laughed and laughed as she entertained us as she circled the yard again and again.
When Hilary was about nine years old, I went to her doghouse to find out why she wasn’t appearing in the morning, and she was obviously not well. The next day I took her to our wonderful vet, Dr. Shipman, and he diagnosed her with kidney failure. We brought her home after he had treated her for a few days. She wasn’t going to survive this. Both girls came home to say their goodbyes to their beloved pet.
A couple of days later is when it happened—a Saturday. Laura was on her way to a soccer game, her intramural team at K-State. She was team captain and so she could not miss the game. Rebecca was not available either. I was home alone. I had brought Hilary into my finished basement where I had my office. She had never been in the house before. She kept trying to climb the stairs, so I picked her up, and took her upstairs to the living room.
She trotted to Rebecca’s chair in the living room and jumped up on it. How did she know to jump up on that chair. How did she know it was Rebecca’s?
What was I to do? I was alone and Hilary was near the end. I was desperate for something to bring me comfort and guidance. I opened a book of prayers and randomly turned to one. Below the prayer was a list of scriptures from which the prayer had been written. Because of my distressed state of mind, I got my Bible and began reading through the list of verses.
After 30 minutes or so, Hilary hopped down from Rebecca’s chair and trotted to the back bedroom—Laura’s bedroom. When I reached the bedroom, she was trying to jump up on her bed. Laura was her special pal. They had had many “conversations” together. How did she know it was Laura’s bed? She obviously knew and wanted to be there. I gently picked her up and put her on the bed. I called Laura who was on her way to her soccer game. She couldn’t stop by. She was grieving. That made me grieve more. I continued my reading, going from one verse to the next. As I read, I stroked Hilary and comforted her.
I came to a verse about entering our rest . . .that God has a rest for those who believe and have labored for Him. This is what I read—"There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from his.” (Hebrews 4:9) At that moment, Hilary breathed her last breath and was gone. These words were spoken to my heart--“Hilary has worked hard for the Phillips’ family. Now, she gets to have her rest.” A profound peace came over me.
Later that afternoon, a friend from my small group at church came and lovingly buried Hilary in our backyard. The next day, Don and both daughters came in the afternoon and as we stood at her grave, I read those verses. Don had a prayer. Those were the right words at the right time, and we will never forget them.
Later, as we sat in the living room, Laura voiced one of our favorite sayings when it was a pretty day, and we would go out to greet Hilary: “It’s a beagle kind of a day!”
