Saying Goodbye To Our Dog, Domino

The loss of our family pet was not the intended next blog I had in mind. We have had an amazing summer and I planned on making the next post about our fun adventures. I will still do a similar post, but an unexpected event happened that makes that “greatest summer ever” blog not so true anymore.

A week ago, unexpectedly, our family dog Domino passed away in her sleep. It took me a week to write about it because I’ve been a big ball of confusion and shock. But it was an important event in our lives that deserves addressing. Domino wasn’t sick (that we know of). She was almost 9 and a half years old and we noticed she had certainly slowed down with age. The dog who used to bolt up and down stairs with ease now seemed slower and more sluggish climbing stairs. She seemed a little more worn out after a walk sometimes. But she didn’t seem “old” yet.

Just recently she escaped a few weeks ago and I happened to be in the backyard with the kids. It had been awhile since I had to chase her and thought it would be a lot easier to catch up with her. She ran past me, ran around me, and shook me like a running back fresh out of college. “I guess she’s still got some pep in her step,” I laughed after it was over and she was safely back in the house (all my husband had to do was open the doors to the walkout basement and she just went in).

Obviously, her passing was unexpected. And I feel all torn up because I never had the bond with her that my husband had. In the early years, I would try to get close to her, but she was all about my husband. If he was gone on a Friday night, I could get our other dog at the time, Izzy, to go up to the bedroom to relax with me (after months of trying). But not Domino. She would stay downstairs, often waiting right by the front door until he came home.

I know she loved me, of course. And I loved her. But from the time I met her until the end, she lived for my husband. When he was gone, she slept the day away. Only when he would return would she perk up and show interest in anything. I used to ask my husband what I could do to get her more into the rest of us. He was her original owner and he told me that some dogs are just one owner dogs. And I grew to accept that I was just chopped liver. Yes, I could be a drama queen over it.

But when the chips were down, she was there. I remember coming home from the hospital after a really bad experience. And the dog who usually ignored me, jumped on the bed and snuggled up next to me. She had never done that before. And I needed it. She always seemed to sense when I needed a little extra attention.

She was truly the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. I could trust her around the kids and I knew she would never harm them (even when they were clumsy about petting her). She was a lover of butter and used to steal whole sticks right off of the table. She also loved bunnies. I remember how horrified I was when she used to bring back her bloody kills, fully expecting to bring them into the house to munch on them on her rug. Like just another snack. She’d give you that “what do you mean I can’t bring it in?” look.

She loved being pet and loved on. She started off as the dog with the intimidating bark when a stranger dared to come to our door. I used to call her “The Dominator” because of her size and that bark. But the last few years, I don’t even remember hearing her bark. I think age mellowed her out. And no matter who you were, if you gave her some petting, she was your friend. “There goes our ‘guard’ dog,” I would joke to my husband.

I knew when this day came, it would devastate my husband. Oh, how I dreaded this day. He loved that dog something fierce. But it’s been harder for me than I ever anticipated. I come downstairs in the morning and when I don’t see her, I forget and wonder where she is. I get a knot in my throat coming home sometimes because it hits me that she’s not inside. I was eating dinner last night and looked over at her spot and I still can’t believe she’s gone. I can still see her resting her head under the end table.

The kids are missing her as well. My 2-year-old, who doesn’t fully understand, opened up the basement door the other day. I asked him what he was doing and he said he was looking for Domino. All he knows is that she isn’t here anymore. My daughter and I were talking about how she had just started walking her and was enjoying taking more responsibility for her. I smile when I think about riding my bike while my 10yo old took her for walks around the neighborhood in recent months. Domino would usually break out in a run at some point and my daughter would be hanging onto the leash by a thread yelling “Domino, slow down! Stooooop!!” I would be laughing so hard at the sight. I’m going to miss that.

I’m glad that she had a really good last day. My husband was working from home and he was on the front porch with his computer and he had Domino on her new extended chain that allowed her more freedom. All the kids were out with her, petting and playing with her most of the morning. She had a good life and she was loved. And I know I grumped about the shedding and her not loving me as much as my husband, but man, I’m going to miss her. Her absence is felt by everyone who loved her. I guess, in the end, she wasn’t “just a dog.” She was family.