The Dogs Who Raised Me: Year Two Without Yadi

And Today Makes Two.

Two years ago, I stopped marking my calendar by the first of the year, by my birthday. Instead, the years are now marked by the day we said goodbye. 

This year was particularly difficult without him. The grief is manageable, but I have to find somewhere to put it. It is a well that doesn’t run dry, and occasionally, threatens to overflow. 

With as much preparation as I did, knowing I would lose him soon, I was…am… still surprised by how much his loss disrupted everything. I knew I was going to lose him. I made the best of the time we had left. I prepared. I believed that the loss of a companion animal could be as significant as the loss of a human friend or family member. 

And still. 

Photo by HMack 2024

I thought I grieved. I thought I was honest with myself.
I was too in it to observe just how much his absence impacted me. 

I noticed some things, and have even written about how my relationship to Eugene changed for a while. I noticed the emptiness in our new apartment - knowing where he would have chosen to sleep, which window he would’ve enjoyed barking out. Which new park he would have enjoyed strolling through. Even though I know damn well that he never could have moved with us, his imprint is still here.

It has been a very traumatic couple of years. And even though logically, I know if he were still alive, he would not be here with us (He would be with his best friends Astrid and K) I still cannot help but notice how much support he had offered me now that he’s missing. I knew we had a good relationship, Yadi was not just my dog but my friend. But I was ignorant to just how stabilizing he was while he was with me. 

He was a stable presence in a rotating cast of (wonderful!) roommates, relationships, housing situations, cities, states and jobs. He provided not just companionship but foundation. 

When I asked his human friends to tell me about him, they all expressed admiration for him. His gentleness, his kindness, his patience. He also had very strong opinions about his desire for stuffed toys, good snacks, and good friends. 

This year, I think I’d like to be more like Yadi.

More gentle, more firm. More patience, more self-understanding. More kindness, and occasionally, more yelling out the window. 

He may not be living alongside me anymore, but I don’t think he’s quite done teaching me.