The chair thunks unceremoniously into the dumpster, landing on its back with its cushions exposed like a soft belly. After almost forty years of nestling bodies, it is time to say goodbye.
My little sister and I sat in the chair together as children, when all three of us were young. There was plenty of room for two little bottoms and the flowered pants that covered them.
The chair came to live with me when my parents downsized, a castoff searching for a new forever home. It was the perfect reading chair for a not-so-little bottom. When our dog Nellie joined our family, it became her chair.
The photos are grainy, taken surreptitiously on my iPad so Nellie wouldn’t run away when she saw me photographing her. She wasn’t supposed to get on any furniture, but at some point during her rebellious teenage years she decided the chair would be hers. I indulged her and let her stay, and the chair was loved once more.
Nellie found her way to us via the SPCA, after being rescued as a stray. The staff named her Princess, but six-year-old Gwen renamed her Nellie, after a character in the American Girl book series she was into at the time. Our Nellie-belly was eight months old, and the kids loved her.
They were also terrified of her. A mix of border collie and probably a dozen other breeds (I guess Boston terrier and pitbull are two), Nellie herded the kids around the house for the first few months. She followed at their heels whenever she could, until they figured out how to divert her attention. Gwen remembers watching cartoons on the sofa with her brother, and asking him to distract Nellie so that she could sprint to the bathroom without being nipped.
The kids and the dog mellowed, and settled into a typical companionship. The trio grew up together, and neither kid remembers a time when Nellie wasn’t a part of our family.
A second grader’s declaration of love
While I would not equate my dog to my children, I was Nellie’s mama. I knew when we adopted her that I would be the primary caregiver, and I was okay with that. I took Nellie to the dog park for the first few months, until an attack by another dog ended those outings. Instead, she and I walked almost every day. When we were both younger, she even ran with me a few times. Pacing was not her strong suit; she strained at her leash to get ahead, and then realized that I was actually going to keep going for awhile. But walking was our favorite – sniffing for her, reading for me.
By my estimation, Nellie and I walked over 2,400 miles together. That’s over ninety marathons.
As Nellie grew into adulthood and middle age, she continued to love her walks, her chair, and her food. The second we returned from a walk, she ran to the pantry and made her “I want a treat” sound. It was also her “I want attention” voice – not a bark or a growl, but a kind of deep warble.
The two of us spent the weekdays together, as she often plopped herself down in whatever room I was in. I am comfortable being alone, but I haven’t ever really been alone. Nellie has always been home with me.
That realization hit me on December 21st, the winter solstice. It’s the one day of the year with the least amount of sunlight, which is symbolism that does not escape me. Some families lose their pet suddenly, and have little or no time to say goodbye. Some families, like ours, spend weeks searching for the source of their pet’s pain and a way to relieve it. When we found that there was no way, we brought twelve-year-old Nellie home so that she could leave this world surrounded by the people who loved her.
That night, Matt and the kids had plans. I encouraged them to go, but I was unprepared for the silence. That’s ridiculous, I know; for all of Nellie’s “talking,” she was usually quiet. Yet there was silence in the emptiness – the empty space on the floor next to my desk, the empty space on the rug in front of my reading corner. Her empty chair.
It has been three weeks, and I still expect to see her when I walk in the house. I still groan a bit when it rains, before I remember that I have no dog to walk in the wet weather. I still come downstairs in the morning and head to the sliding door, ready to let Nellie out. I suppose it will take awhile to get used to our smaller family.
I glance one final time at the chair in the dumpster, but I walk away without a tear. Those already came, and more will come later. I always knew we would trash the chair after Nellie was gone; there were short black hairs embedded deep within every fiber. I could never get it clean, but that just made it officially Nellie’s Chair. We may adopt another dog one day, but he or she will have to create memories on a different piece of furniture.
Goodbye, my sweet Nellie. You left paw prints on our hearts.
Dana, I’m so sorry for the loss of your trusty pal, Nellie. You have written a beautiful tribute to her and to the gifts of love and family.
Thank you Mo. <3
Oh Dana, my heart hurts reading this. My 14 year old dog shows signs of her age every day, and reading this makes me realize even more that her time here is limited. I think we will take her for a walk tomorrow. I can feel the love you must have for that sweet baby. *tear*
Thanks, Mandi. Give your baby a hug for me, and enjoy your walks!
Ohhhhhh, Dana. I am so sorry. I suspect you’ll be listening for her usual sounds for days and weeks to come. I wish you did get a few more years. Sending you a jumbo hug.
Thank you, Kelly. Pups just burrow into our hearts, don’t they?
Oh Dana, so sorry! The passing of a pet can be so heartbreaking. What a beautiful tribute to a beloved friend.
Thank you Lisa.<3
<3
thanks, Lizzi xoxo
Oh, Dana! I’m so sorry! Pets are indeed family members and losing them is so hard. Our dog, also a border collie mix, had some stomach issues this week and our vet gave us some special food. It was canned food – the same canned food we were giving our last dog to (unsuccessfully) address some of her health concerns. When I opened not that can the other day, the memories washed over me and I had a really hard time giving her that food. Fortunately, she is fine, but I hope I never have to giver that food again. PEts definitely make imprints on our hearts and our lives. Sending hugs!
Glad your pup is fine! Thanks for the condolences – I know you know how difficult it is to say goodbye.
Oh, Dana, I’m so so sorry. <3 What a loss for you and your family. It sounds like Nellie was loved deeply and will be missed deeply. I'm glad you got your time to say goodbye to her, though I imagine that doesn't help take away the pain.
It doesn’t, but at least we knew that it was her time to go. I just wish we had a few more years.
First off I am sorry for your loss, Dana.
Losing a pet is heart breaking esp since an adult spends so much time with them. I loved how you had mentioned the number of miles you had walked with her. Ninety marathons!!
Secondly let’s put that couch as a place of fond memories as your life continues…
Hugs!
Thank you Ruchira!
So sorry about Nellie, Dana. What a sweet tribute to a well loved dog.
Thank you so much Rabia. <3
Oh, I am so sorry. I never really understood the love you could have for an animal – until I had one. A dog is so part of the family and leaves a huge hole. I’m glad you had so many good memories and that she brought you all the same joy you brought her. Hugs.
Thank you Leah – it is difficult to understand unless you’ve loved a dog as part of your family.
So beautifully written. You gave Nellie such a wonderful home and family. So sorry about the loss of your Nellie. Love you💜❌⭕
Love you too! Thanks Lisa.
Dana, I’m so sorry about Nellie. You wrote this so beautifully, your love for her is evident. We had a lab for 14 years and the letting go is so hard. It’s been many years and I still remember the walks and runs and swims. And the companionship. That’s probably the biggest loss. I’m very sorry.
Thank you Steph. I do miss her presence the most – it’s lonelier without her. I talked to her a lot, so now I’m just a kook talking to myself. 😉
The silence within the silence. The empty places. The omg emptiness. I am so so so sorry for your loss. I still miss Chief and am not ready for another dog, as much as I hate the silence. I miss the walks, too so much. It’s not the same when you don’t “have to,” even in a storm, which I resented and then missed. I’m hugely sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Kristi. I know you understand. 🙁
Oh, I’m so sorry for you guys. We had to put our dog down a few years ago, and I still tear up when I see another Husky…
So sorry, Dana! I can’t read a thing about a dog without crying.. but when it’s someone I know and care about.. it’s tough. I just can’t. The empty chair. I have lost a few dogs (family members) in my life and gosh, it’s worth it to love them.
That is so true, Tamara! Totally worth it to love them.
So the minute I finish reading your post, the roof repair guy working outside knocks on the door to talk to me. I manage to wipe away most of the tears before getting to the door. Sure he thinks I’m a little looney now – oh well. Sorry for your loss of a family member. Beautiful memories shared.
I’m sorry for the awkward moment, Laura! I cried a ton while I wrote this, but it is cathartic.
Oh, I am so sorry Dana. We go back and forth on the dog thing and this is one of the reasons I always waiver. It’s so hard to let them go. I still get teary when I think of my dog, Susu, who dies when I was in middle school, after getting hit by a car. It was devastating.
Oh, I’m sure it was! How awful. I can certainly understand your hesitation. I’ve always thought we’d adopt an older dog after Nellie, but I can’t go through this again in a few years. We’ll see…
So sorry for your loss Dana. This is a beautiful tribute Nellie.
Thank you Jennifer. <3
Aw, man Dana my heart was breaking just reading this. Seriously feel absolutely terrible for the loss of your sweet and dear, Nellie. By the way, your kids sounds similar with Nellie way back in the day as my kids did when we first brought home Elsa. Even though they loved her, wanted her and even named her, as well, they were definitely fearful of her as she was already a descent size dog (even as a puppy) and was teething like crazy (so nipping at them from time-to-time). But now 3 years later, she is just one of them and even sleeps on the rug in between their beds at night. So, we are in a good place right now, but know someday the inevitable will befall us, especially after reading your post today. Hugs and thinking of you and your family now <3
Thank you Janine. The kids have so many wonderful memories of growing up with Nellie, just like your girls do and will with Elsa.
Oh Dana I’m so sorry! This was so beautifully written and I know first hand the heartache of having to say good-bye to a dog I grew-up loving like a member of the family.
We have promised the boys a dog for their birthday (in April) and, like you, I know I will be the primary care giver and I’m ok with that. I’m really looking forward to having those paw prints on my heart once again but I also know, someday, this awful sadness will be there too.
Love to you and your family and rest in peace beautiful Nellie!
Thank you Allie. I always dreaded the saying goodbye, but you can’t adopt a dog thinking about that, right?
Can’t wait to hear about your pup – make sure he or she is a runner!!