Red is doing well with his arthritis, he will be around a good long time. But his pain and discomfort were acute and startling to me, and they made the idea of losing him one day surface. It is just not something I think about too often.  For a few days, Red barely moved, he looked uncharacteristically miserable, he is normally the most cheerful of dogs.

He must have been hurting pretty badly. Red, like most border collies, is so vigorous I never think of him getting old. And border collies are so stoic they work uncomplainingly through pain and sickness. It is quite common to take them to a vet and find out they are seriously ill, and be amazed.

Rose, my third border collie, worked until the day she nearly collapsed from a brain disorder, probably a tumor. I saw her struggling a bit, but just wrote it off to heat and age.  She went rushing out for the last time that morning to herd sheep.

Red is my companion in the most literal sense of the term.

He goes everywhere with me. Above, he came with me to get a massage this afternoon. When he comes, he lies down under the table and doesn’t move until we are finished. If you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t know he was there. He comes with me to the dentist, to the Round House Cafe, in the car when I food shop, when I stop to get gas. He comes to my writing class, and is so quiet I sometimes almost leave without him.

Red is by my side when I write.

We work the sheep together, he walks in the woods with us, comes along on photo shoots. This week, I considered the possibility that like all dogs, he would one day be gone. That will be a large hole in my life, one I have experienced many times before.

I wrote a book about animal grieving, it was called “Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die,” I talked to a lot of vets, therapists, social workers, animal lovers. Animal grieving is considered a serious public health issue in America now, many people grieve for years over their animals, some have very serious trouble letting go. I take animal grieving seriously.

On Facebook, I see whole pages and sites devoted to the memory of dogs and cats, and I see grieving without end or boundary. It makes me uncomfortable. I want to do it differently, and so far, I have.

I remind myself that if you love dogs, you will know grief, and for me, perspective is important.  That is the nature of it, no one can avoid it. I do not understand people who say they will never get another dog because they loved one so much. What did they expect, eternal life? I am never surprised when a dog dies, and the most healing thing I ever do is go get another one.

Dogs are not people, they can be replaced. There are always a thousand good dogs out there, and many ways to find one. I don’t mean that to be cold, but it is a stark difference with grieving for humans – you can’t go out and buy and rescue another one.

We lost Frieda and Lenore within a few months, we have Fate and Red. I have nothing to complain about, no laments to offer, I do not feel the least bit sorry for myself. I do not know or recall the anniversaries of their death, I do not get the point of it. If I’m going to do that, I ought to record the dates of the many wonderful times we had together. Dogs will never be a misery to me, living or dead.

I believe that dogs like Red are spirit dogs, they come when they are needed, they leave when they are done. Their task is to mark the passages of our life and accompany us on our journeys. When a dog like Red leaves, it is very said. But I celebrate the lives of my dogs much more than I mourn them.

I am lucky to have had a dog like Red, even for a month, let alone years. Death and life are siblings, brother and sister, one cannot exist with the other. If I reap the glorious benefits of life, I accept it’s companion death. That is the deal, the nature of life. It is never true than in the lives of dogs and pets, who come into our lives and become extensions of us.

Animal grieving is about letting go, and it is never too soon to remind myself of that. Love and meaning requires us to accept loss, in our own time and way, and move on. I respect the individual process of others, it is not for me or anyone else to tell people how to grieve. I can only talk about myself.

I am grateful that Red is recovering, and I will not dwell on the idea that he will one day be done. We have a lot of great days and years ahead of us.

I think it is good to be reminded of loss once in awhile, and to think about it. As with all grief and death and loss, people who think about rather than dwell on it – fare much better than those who don’t. This week made me appreciate Red all the more.