He was forever Faithful
And always so Loving
In his eyes Intelligence
In his proud stance Nobility.
The verse isn't meant to rhyme
Take the first letter of the last word
On each line
And they pay tribute to a dog
That were the eyes of someone blind...
One, my husband
The other, his dog
The best guide dog of all time...
FLIN.
Flin is a big beautiful black lab. He was two years old when my husband, James, was matched up with him at Canine Vision, Oakville, Ontario in 1986. He was James' eyes until retired in March 1998 ...... he died while James was again at Canine Vision in Oakville being matched with another dog guide. He is very much missed.
The article below was published in a county newspaper, one year to the day after Flin died.
It seems fitting to write this article now, to share with you my journey through grieving; as life begins with birth and ends with death, so it is with our beloved furry friends. Many of you have traveled this path - some, more than once. Others of you may yet experience this loss for the first time. It is normal to mourn your pet and there are those who do understand .... you are not alone.
The rock pictured here is a tribute not only to a wonderful friend but to my husband’s "eyes" of ten years. Flin was a pure breed black Labrador Retriever, trained at Canine Vision Canada in Oakville, Ontario. Flin was two years old when he became James’s eyes and constant companion for ten years. He was a heavy, muscular Lab weighing in close to the hundred pound mark but the most gentle of dogs you’d ever hope to meet.
He died two days before his twelfth birthday at a Charlotte County veterinarian facility. Any animal lover who has lost a pet knows the heartache it brings. Imagine how heightened the ache must be when your dog is a working dog as well as a friend. This dog, rightfully so, is with you twenty four hours a day - the work place, social functions, the playing field, eating establishments, public washrooms - in essence, everywhere you are, the dog is.
Flin had reached retirement age so James had made arrangement to go once again to Canine Vision in Ontario to be paired up with a "new" dog guide. James was aware that Flin wasn’t well and had been trying in his own subtle way to prepare me for the inevitable. He left for Ontario as scheduled with the belief Flin still had a little time. Two weeks into James’ stay at Canine Vision I had to rush Flin to emergency at the veterinarian clinic. X-rays were taken but tests were to be run so I had to leave him. He walked, as always, head high, eyes so trusting. I fully expected to return for him in a couple of days. I felt totally helpless and numb when the veterinarian phoned to tell me he had died. It has been documented that animals fear pain but not fear death. We can protect them to some extent from one but cannot prevent the other. I wanted to deny it but knew deep in my heart the truth.
Then, I felt guilty - he died because in my state of anxiety, for the first time I hadn’t told him I’d be back. I hadn’t said goodbye. My most difficult task was calling James long distance to tell him that his "MR." Flin was gone. When you share a special bond with a spouse or friend it is not uncommon to share some of the same feelings. I was hurting and I knew James’s hurt would be so much more, and with the distance between us I could offer only words, no physical presence. We had earlier discussed what to do when this time came and had checked community laws for a home burial but hadn’t made any final decision. When I asked him over the phone what he wanted done, he told me to decide and let him know. Here were two broken hearts to mend and how could I help mend his?
I decided I would have Flin brought home and buried under the oak tree where he used to lay when we did our gardening. We would know where he was; also when James came home and was ready he could go say his goodbye. Laws required we dig a minimum of three feet, the body would have to be in a special bag or holder (provided, in this case by the veterinarian), and fifty feet from the well. We exceeded all three requirements, with the help of the McAdam Lions.
I stood alone, and silent but for the mourning dove in the background while two of the McAdam Lions, Jack Moffitt and Wayne Donahue lowed him to the ground and covered him over. A line I’d read somewhere "you will feel as alone as a single star in the dark sky" came to mind.
Don’t make a hasty burial decision - the final resting place of your pet deserves some thought. If you have any uncertainty, check with your veterinarian to see if they will, or can recommend a facility that might keep your pet until you decide. Alternatives to home burials are pet cemeteries, communal burials, or cremation. With cremation, you can either scatter the ashes or put them in a container and bury them in a special place.
The loss of a pet is often a child’s first encounter with death. They should be encouraged to participate in the burial plans and to express their sorrow openly. It may help for them to plan and hold a memorial service. Keep in mind that the service is for their benefit and can be as simple or as complicated as they want to make it. It may be possible you don’t share their grief, but don’t make light of it. Answer any questions honestly; telling them their pet has gone to sleep could cause them to fear sleep. Explain the life span difference of people and animals to them; they may think if the pet dies at such a 'young' age, so will they. A grieving child may find it hard to concentrate on their school work, have a short attention span or be short tempered - tell their teacher what’s happened.
From childhood to old age we form special relationships with our pets as they fulfill a variety of needs. There is nothing wrong with a strong tie to our pets considering how much they’ve given us and asked so little in return. Reaction and stages of grief experienced when we lose a pet are often the same as those to a human loss. The grief stage consists of reaction and mourning; we must find ways to cope with the reaction. We must also give ourselves time to grieve and recognize that holding back is a stumbling block to grieving. It has been documented if grief is suppressed and feelings not dealt with, it often comes back to haunt us. Later when we are faced with another loss all the repressed emotions surface and we find ourselves doubly burdened.
The 1992 sixth 'International Conference on Human Animal Interactions' disclosed that at least two thirds of pet owners grieved deeply, some for days, after their pets death. It cannot truly be stated how long a grieving period should last. It varies from person to person. The relationship they had with their pet, the degree of devotion and loyalty, the pets age, and how long they owned the pet are all contributing factors. Many people hide their emotions, being embarrassed by their sorrow - "that pawprint embedded in your heart" - let the tears flow and as often as they need.
Healing will begin when you realize that the pet having lived is more important than its death. You can still keep their memory alive by visiting their resting place, putting flowers or planting a tree on or near the grave, or as we did have a marker made. It could be wood or stone. Actually, our marker was a gift from my friend Cerita’s daughter, Zena MacMaster, a talented local artist.
I did not have a computer at the time of Flin’s death and material on coping with pet loss was not readily or easily found. I finally connected with the Kindness Club in Fredericton. The woman on the phone was very understanding and was able to send me a few phamplets.
My own inner healing began with 'Rainbow Bridge' - the place this side of heaven where our pet is restored to health, can run and play in the sunny meadows and hills, are well fed and protected. A place where they wait for us, missing us as we miss them until reunited we cross the bridge together.