The Melancholy of Reminiscence

/ cagedunn

A few things brought this to the fore. If you’ve heard about our dog, Pepsi, you know she’s at a stage of her life where quality is lacking and she suffers. It’s not at the stage yet where she’s ready to give up and she fakes her ability to move and run and jump (she thinks), but it brings up the problem of that space in our cupboard where they all remain as memories (technically, ashes in urns with ribbons and words).

What will her urn be? Timber, ceramic, glass? A little hollow filled with her ash in a piece of jewellery?

The decision looms, but I can’t do it. Not until she tells me in her own way that she’s had enough. So many deaths recently. Too many. I don’t want to think about it, but death knocks at every door sooner or later.

So, I went to the pictures and reminisced. Then I realised that we don’t have many of Pepsi. The camera is useless – batteries last a few minutes and the shaking hands of a person with a thyroid condition makes for poor pics. The SO is worse, and doesn’t see well enough to get definition. And we don’t have those phones that do everything while you sit on the toilet and compose.

We have only a few pics of her.

The photo albums from years ago (most were lost in a house fire – Ash Wednesday is a constant memory of pain in so many ways, including the loss of irreplaceable memories. Children, animals, places.

Oh, how much pain is there in those lost moments that turned to ash and snowed grey over the land?

Is that why there are fewer pictures of the pets since that time?

Memories, and where they take us …

Memories … the ones remaining after the fire, the ones since then …

28 thoughts on “The Melancholy of Reminiscence”

  6. I’m sorry. As I get older (73 and counting) I remember my grandmother (now gone) who hesitated to get a pet because she worried she might not live long enough to care for it through its life. I scoffed, at the time. I was young. You’ll do what’s best for the dog and, with any luck, you can find some comfort in that.

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  7. My heartfelt sympathy is extended to you. This post made me tear up, because like you, all I have now are little caskets on my mantel piece and one gravestone that I never seem to go visit. These pets, in my opinion, are angels with fur, they come not for what life might give them, but to give us (humans) comfort and unconditional love. A suggestion? If you’d like a few more pictures of Pepsi, is there a neighbor, friend or relative you could ask to come and help you with the issue. Most folks (not me but most) have phones implanted in their arms now and will have the ability to take photos for you. Just a thought. Blessings.

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      • That’s just as hard, though, knowing there won’t be the comfort that a pet provides to help ease the grief. That’s why I’m considering volunteering at the animal rescue centre as a hugger/socialiser.

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    • They are definitely angels with fur, being with me through tough times and good, helping me with issues small and large … and keeping my back warm on a cold night, sharing my dreams (or protecting me from them, perhaps).
      Thanks to Covid and our guests, we’re not allowed visitors, but after the kerfuffle is over, and if she outlasts it, I’ll be asking for a few helping phone-photos.

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  8. I still cry about pets that died dozens of years ago because they live in my memory like bright spots in a dark place. it’s never easy. We are not less traumatized, but we make less fuss about it because every pet owner deals with this same pain. These days, we know it the moment we get a pet because we do see the future. Then we block that picture out because you can’t live with that pain all the time.

    She WILL tell you. Their eyes tell you. I’m not sure how, but one day, they look at you and you realize that you are keeping them alive because YOU need them, but they are weary and would like to rest. AND now I’m crying.

    There’s no way to feel good about this except to know that you did your best and you loved her through her whole life until that final moment. That’s is what we have to offer and I always hope it’s enough.

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    • I’m sure she’ll tell me. It’s come close once or twice, and then she fights back. It’s hard not to anticipate that moment and live the creep of pain that I know is too close.

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  9. I am sending you a virtual hug for the terrible loss of the memories in the photos and the difficult situation with an older pet who will sometime, perhaps quite soon, tell you it is time for her to move on. Sometimes life can just be a ——–!

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  10. My boys are ageing too, and I don’t want to think about losing either one of them. We don’t have ashes and urns, we have rose bushes planted on top of each small grave, a special rose for each small friend. -big hugs-

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  11. We’ve lost eight furry family members over the years. I know it’s not easy. I remind myself each time that I may be crying, but he/she is definitely not crying and is running through tall grass or climbing trees or whatever fun stuff they do in critter heaven.

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  12. Is there no one that can take some photos of Pepsi for you Cage? Would the rescue centre help out? I have many of scrappy, and yet so very few of my other pets. Well l did have thousands, but a now ex-mate lost my entire CD with them. Thank goodness for my mind’s memory bank.

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