If you are a regular reader of this column, you will know that my dog has been getting old, adding new challenges for us that I struggled to adapt to as quickly as possible. I was just starting to feel hopeful about having it all under control when the rug was pulled out from under me, and he collapsed. It soon became evident that he was bleeding internally, so we made the choice to release his spirit from his failing body. I was nose to nose with him as he took his last breath.
    I thought I had prepared myself for this inevitable day. He was an old dog who had been a challenge for much of his life. I was ready for a new beginning. Or so I told myself. I was completely surprised by the depth of my despair, and the shock waves that continue to ripple through my life.
    For the first few days, I managed by attending to practical matters— gathering all his things into the guest room, doing laundry, cleaning house, getting the blood stain out of the carpet. As I ran out of things to do, I found myself at loose ends— ungrounded, lost, uncertain. Going out on errands was okay, but coming home was terrifying. When I lost my other dogs, there was still a dog in the house who needed me. This time the house was empty.
    I felt the need to escape that silence, so we traveled for two weeks. Travel was something we had not been able to do for years because of his special needs, so I thought it would comfort me. I found it only pressed the pause button on my grief, and coming home was bittersweet. At four weeks out, I struggled through reliving that last day. Today, in addition to writing this column, I’m donating many of his belongings to Doberman Rescue of New Mexico. It’s just one more step in my process of letting go.
    This letting-go process is more than just grief over losing my dog. It’s initiated a process of self-reflection and evaluation that may take years to sort out. I imagine my age has something to do with it, but I’m now considering all the possibilities and questioning everything. What do I want to keep, and what needs to go? How do I want to spend my time? What do I want my future to be? This is the first time in over 22 years that I have been without a dog and the responsibilities that go with it. Yes, there will definitely be another in the future, but not until I “clean house” on a grand scale. That sort of soul work takes time, and can’t be rushed.
    I’m giving myself as much time as it takes, and striving to be kind and gentle with myself—something that doesn’t come naturally for me. I’m working on his scrapbook. I’m cleaning and redecorating my office. I’m assessing daily what I can and can’t handle. I’m allowing myself to say no, and trying harder to ask for what I want. I see the world moving on around me. I’m not in a hurry to catch up with it.
    In the words of Garth Brooks: “Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.”
    Dance on, sweet Soul Man ... while I learn to dance a new dance without you.

Cricket Mara operates a dog behavior consulting practice in Corrales called Pawsitive Dog. Send comments and questions to cricket@pawsitivedog.com.