This wasn’t the post I was planning on writing today.
We found out last night that Bingley, our little lab/terrier puppy, died in an accident while we were away on vacation.
He just got him on June 30, when he was estimated to be between 5 and 7 weeks old and looked just like the poky little puppy.
He was growing so fast: he weighed 8 pounds when we got him, he was 12 at his last checkup, and we couldn’t wait to see how much he’d grown while we were away.
Our longtime family dog died just a few weeks before we got Bingley. We didn’t mean to get a dog so soon: we weren’t looking for a puppy yet. He found us.
When Harriet died, we were devastated. But we at least understood; the kids understood. She was old, she was sick, she’d had a good, long, life. Circle of life, etcetera.
This is a different kind of grief.
Because I’ve talked about Bingley here—and the unexpectedly complex web of emotions he generated—I wanted you to know.
I’m grieving on two levels: for myself, and for my heartbroken kids. Unexpected loss is very much a part of life, sadly, but it hasn’t been part of their lives, and I don’t know how to help them process it. If you have advice or resources to share, I’m listening (even though I probably won’t be interacting with comments today). Thanks in advance.