I sit in my office in the late afternoon, fighting back some tears, the late sun streaming through the windows, there is an emptiness around me that seems vast and dark. For the first time in memory, I am writing without Red sitting at my feet quietly, lying beside me so faithfully.
Sometimes, silence is the loudest noise we ever hear. My heart feels heavy as if it will drop right through me and onto the carpet. I feel weak, disoriented. Stunned, as if I were knocked about the head.
Red died before around noon Friday, we just couldn’t bear to see him suffering any longer. When I looked through the viewfinder of the camera this morning, I saw an exhausted Red, stoic but struggling to even stand.
That Red was already gone.
It was time. He was ready.
You can see it in those once powerful and blazing eyes. He was just hanging on.
I can’t thank Dr. Suzanna Fariello and her staff – Nicole and Cassandra – for working so hard to make Red comfortable this past year or so, and for dealing with his death is so gentle and sensitive away.
Dr. Fariello’s tears were pouring down on the floor as she knelt down to give him the sedative and medicine that killed him quickly and peacefully. A good vet is the most precious thing. She always listened to Red, she always listened to me.
Maria was almost supernatural in the way she grabbed a shovel and pitchfork and dug a four-foot grave filled with large rocks in less than an hour. Her strength and passion surprise me, again and again.
In the last photo I took of Red below, I did not see the dog I have lived with these past seven years. He was already gone.
When I think of a dog like Red, I see an animal that entered my life for a purpose, he was a dog, but more than just a dog.
He came to help guide me and lead me to higher ground – to hospice work, the Mansion, the refugees. He helped me to do good and to learn how to love doing good because Red could go anywhere, be anywhere, see anyone. Because of him, so could I.
Red was all about trust and love. I trusted him completely, to do anything, to go anyway. It is difficult for me to even articulate how much that meant to me in this work.
But I will certainly try. Red belonged to many people, and I promised to share his sickness and death openly and honestly. I will keep that promise.
In the hundreds if not thousands of visits we made together, Red was never turned away, refused, or disappointed.
He never made a mistake, frightened or hurt a soul, ignored someone in need, or failed to grasp my meaning and intuition. He never barked, jumped, or startled.
He was an anchor, a rock, everywhere he went. My friend Sue Suliverstein says she believes with her heart and soul that Red was not just in words but in reality, an angel who was sent her to do his work. I was a part of his work. I believe dogs like Red do that, I think Sue might well be right.
Red helped to make my transformation from a struggling wreck to a grounded human being who finally understood what my purpose was, what his calling was. He was my witness, my companion, my good spirit. He radiated good, and it reflected off of him.
I could not have done this work I do without Red, he opened every door and brought light to every darkness.
Red gave me confidence and strength to change my life and get to higher ground. He knew where I was going before I did, and never left my side.
He was with me in the car, in my study, in the farmhouse, in the fields. I never once raised my voice to Red or was even angered by him. He just offered himself to me and others in the purest way.
He was the dog I wanted, the dog I needed.
He was just my dog, pure and simple.
I’ll write more about him later, but I am happy to see he went out with a Red-like flourish, drawing enough money to buy some Ipads for the teachers at Bishop Maginn High School. People were grateful for the chance to honor Red. I was proud of him, to the very end. It was a fitting end, the last gift, the last act, helping people.
Red died peacefully, we brought him back with us to the farm and Maria did the most amazing job of digging a beautiful grave near the Pole Barn close to the sheep. Red can torment Liam for years to come, and I can talk to him and see him every day.
I went to the Mansion in the afternoon. I wanted to tell the residents directly that Red had gone. They were all gathered in the Great Room when I came in, I asked the musician if I could make an announcement. I told them that Red had died, peacefully and calmly, and I said I wanted to thank them for loving him and welcoming him into their lives.
There was a lot of anguish in some of their faces, Peggie and Sylvie and Wayne took it especially hard.
My heart is broken, I feel as if my soul has emptied out, and there is a void all around me that I don’t quite know how to fill. I don’t control that, I know this space will fill up of its own accord. I accept life and I respect life and death.
I am not stunned by it, nor will I be devoured by it.
This is grieving, I’ve seen it many times in my life, for people, for dogs. Grieving is a process, and it has its own path and will. No one can make you feel better or save you from it. You just have to know there is another side.
I knew it was coming and was well prepared, but I’ve seen it enough to know there really is no preparation, it’s like a giant wave that just to break over me and my life. Tonight, the healing begins.
Like other crazy people, I get to recover every day.
Maria and I are heading out to a beautiful spot on the Battenkill River where we will sit and hold hands and just be. Maria told me on my birthday that I had loved her into being, and I was touched by that, and today, we will love one another into healing.
I am struck once more by Fate, who has spent almost all of her life with Red, and Bud, who adores Red and protects him. Neither seems to have noticed his absence, their spirits are high, their appetites strong, they are playful and alert, there are no signs of depression or disorientation.
I have yet to ever see one of my dogs grieve for another.
Dogs become what we need them to become, we are so eager to put our thoughts and emotions into their heads. Left alone, they show us who they are.
I want to post some more photos I took of Red’s gravesite and a bit about my life with him. But that’s for later. Time to be with me. Thanks for loving Red and sharing his story with me.
Thank you for sharing Red with us, through everything. He is an amazing spirit that moved us all. Even when you know it’s the end it’s never easy to let go. Peace to you Maria and Red. “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest”
Godspeed, Red. May the light of your loving spirit continue to shine.
Jon, wishing you peace and comfort as you reflect on your life and memories with Red. He was a wonderful dog, and you are blessed to have had him. Thinking of you and Maria.
Its difficult to read through tears.
Fairly recent blog reader. Dog lover. Refugee supporter in my city of Atlanta. And 100% supporter of you and the decision you made today. I’ve made that same decision many times for the animals I’ve loved. Never easy but so humane. RIP RED.
Penny left us in April. I miss her so much. I know the pain you are feeling. My girl spared me and my sister the final trip to the Vet. She walked into the kitchen, stumbled and was dead by the time she hit the floor. Penny had COPD and hated the Flovent. That and the prednisone were too much for her 14 year old heart.
10 days after her death I was hospitalized with a partly collapsed lung and congestive heart failure. Penny always knew when I was getting sick. I think she was tired of life.
It helped me heal when I shared stories about Penny. You’re going to heal by writing about Red
This is how. Love to you all.
I mourn and honor Red with you and your commitment to not have him suffer.
I am in my mind holding your and Maria’s hands.
Thank you Jon for sharing Red and his passing. I have always believed that dogs serve a purpose in our lives. In my 63 years I have had 10 dogs. Each dog has come into my life at a certain point and has added to it in different ways. From my childhood friend and companion….to the fear aggressive dog that gave me a new purpose in life…all have taken a piece of my heart but added to my life in countless ways. Not surprised that Red has added to yours. Thank you again.
I have followed Red for a long time on Bedlam Farm, he truly was a remarkable dog and I feel your loss as I had to put one to sleep earlier this year that was 12 years old, it is like losing a family member, may od comfort you and all at the Farm.
Oh Red. We will miss you and your incredible spirit…
You, Red and all your beautiful souls have touched so many in truth and Light but mostly LOVE. Bless you and Marie as you process this love ……forever yours. And generously ours ♡
I was glad to follow his story. Thank you.
Beautifully said, Jon
my heart aches for you
RIP sweet Red
Red will be sorely missed, by those who were blessed to meet him, and those of us out here in electronic space who only knew him from your stories & photos. When we lose a beloved pet we go to Chevy’s & set up the iPad with a slide show of pictures of them, which triggers many forgotten happy memories, as we sip margaritas together. I think maybe your photos will do the same for you in time. Treat each other gently, and know that he was a very very special pup. Sending hugs from California
My heart goes out to you . I know what it is like to loose the dog which in many ways was your soul mate—-as I am sure do many of your other readers. I like, many of them and as you have said many times he belonged to all of us thru your writing. Having been a follower of yours for many years, I think the loss of Red has affected you more than any of the others and that is not to say that they didn’t hold a place in your heart but Red was like none of the others. there is nothing I can write which will make it better for you and nor do I wish to. You and Maria are entitled to your grief.
I feel deep sadness for your broken heart and empty soul today. I think this is the only time I have ever heard you use those phrases. I understand that feeling….. one just has to embrace it, understand it and heal….and I know you and Maria will. Red’s presence was large…..and having that presence gone is quite shattering to the soul. Peace and love to you both
Susan M
Rest In Peace sweet Red.
Red touched thousands and thousands of lives and hearts. We were all so fortunate to follow his journey through your blog Jon. I count myself one of the lucky ones who actually got to meet Red in 2012. I sadly and tearfully say good bye.
Thank you for sharing this heart-wrenching transition with us. So well worded. Red would be proud of you. As the keepers of canines, sharing their lives alters our lives. My canine companions complete me and I hope I do the same for them.
I am in tears as I read this. I loved Red as if he were my own dog. He was a real angel spirit. May you and Maria heal and recover.
Thank you for sharing….having loved your books since The Dogs of Bedlam Farm, I simply cannot imagine you without a border collie….sweet Red…what a great dog he was!
I’m sorry for your loss. Red made better dogs of us all.
My dog of 13 years, Kohl, died September 2011. I was lost. The emptiness was real, and the darkness seemed forever. I too, felt as if i was hit over the head. I somehow stumbled upon your book Going Home. The chapter, Letter From a Dog captured what I feel Kohl wanted to say to me. I started to see a glimmer of light. I began following your blog. In 2012 Big Red showed up. Red reminded me so much of Kohl, and I have been following him ever since. I have never written anything before, but I feel to honor Red, I wanted to say thank you Red for helping me get through the darkness. I will miss you.
I hope to be able to write such a beautiful eulogy for my own dog when her time comes.
You are in my prayers. I have been in your position too many times. Very painful. This too shall pass. What a lovely tribute.
I have no words!! There are no words for this heart ache!! Just know how many arms are around you!!! I have to believe there are angels and they remain with us always!! We need to do nothing more than open our hearts and let them in and you did!!
I am so sorry.
Beautiful! Heartbreaking and Heartwarming at the same time ??
Reading this brought a tear to my eye.
So beautifully written.
Thank you for sharing Red with us and for sharing yourself.
That last photo of Red.. that is the same empty look I have seen many times with dogs of the past.
What a beautiful life he had with you and Maria.
Well done sir.
It has been my greatest pleasure sharing your life by you opening your doors to so many people around the world. It’s strange the way we “take” to certain things in life, and I must honestly say that I have loved Red from the day you first introduced him to your readers. My tears are falling, my heart is aching, and even though I am thousands of miles from you, I have always felt something very special for Red. Please accept my sincerest and deepest sympathy and know that Red will never, ever be forgotten. Rest peacefully Red………………………
It is beyond words the gratitude and love I feel for a dog I never met and his person who shared this remarkable spirit with the world. I cannot fully explain the sadness I feel and the joy just knowing Red from a distance. All I know is that both can be true. Be kind to yourself Jon and thank you so much for sharing your wonderful boy Red.
Thank you, Red.
Thank you, Jon, for allowing us to know a small slice of his life.
Red was one of my dogs thanks to you. I have four busy herders and loved every post. I cried when I read this but mostly because I have 3 seniors. Thanks for sharing Red, Rose…all your animals. Every story resonated with me. Bless you for your work and your writing.
I have loved Red, along with many other readers for his whole time with you. Your tales of him have gotten me through many challenging times, and I thought of him often after the death of my own spirit dog, Bob. Bob was my service dog, partner, and doorway to this life for 14 years. I wish for you peace , and many wonderful memories!
A beautiful tribute to one who lives forever in your heart.
Thinking of you, Maria and the animals. Red was so special. We really enjoyed seeing him at the Open Houses. My young daughter grew up looking forward to visiting with Red each trip to Bedlam Farm. We will miss him ?
Thank you, Jon, for writing so eloquently about Red, his death and your feelings. I felt much the same way about the last two Border Collies of mine that died: Meg, tiny Meg, who never topped 33 lbs., but was oh-so good with moving sheep as I needed her to do, and who lived to the age of 16 years, 3 months. Our vet called her “the ancient Border Collie”. then there was Jed, whom we “rescued” from a family in town who thought it would be nice to have a Border Collie, but had no knowledge of the breed and its needs. Jed died of pancreatitis just eight months after Meg’s death. Two dying that closely together was almost too much. Each of us must go through the grieving in our own way; sometimes, it lasts much longer than we ever expected it would. My thoughts are with you.
Jon, you have captured the thoughts and feelings we had when we had to say goodbye to our dog, Rex. It’s been seven years since he crossed the Rainbow Bridge but he still lives in the heart of our memory. Thank you for writing about Red. We look forward to reading many more of your experiences.
Dear Jon and Maria,
I can’t imagine how your hearts ache losing such a wonderful dog. Thank you so much for sharing him over the years. He was such a special soul and a little part of me felt like he was mine too. I will miss him.
Sue
Vancouver Washington
Thank you for this beautifully articulated post. Sending you and Maria an extra-large hug and healing light.
A most beautiful tribute for a most beautiful dog. Red was pure spirit. And while his physical presence is no longer, his spirit will live on, in so many ways. Thank you for sharing, Jon. And thank you for sharing Red with all of us.
Jon,
I am so sorry for your loss.
This world was made better by an angel such as Red.
Steve
Jon…Having gone through this numerous times I really know how that hole in your heart hurts losing Red. Reading your post made my eyes misty even though I never had the pleasure of meeting Red. Thank you for sharing.
Jon…Having gone through this numerous times I really know how that hole in your heart hurts losing Red. Reading your post made my eyes misty even though I never had the pleasure of meeting Red. Thank you for sharing.
As usual you filled me with such emotion , I had to send you a note to express my feelings right. now– I am sad for you , Maria and all the people Red touched in his life. I didn’t get to see him but felt that I knew him by your blog and pictures. He was such an angel , he will be missed by all who he touched in his life. I am sorry for your loss and companion.
My
heart is heavy for you and Maria. It is such a gift to find a dog that just gets it. I had one once and it is a beautiful experience. Heal and rest.
My thoughts are with you all. My heart is heavy. Thank you for sharing this with us. We have all been in this place that feels so empty yet full of sweet memories.
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Thank you, Gentle Man, for sharing your Soul Dog with all of us, including this terrible, beautiful day you might have kept for yourself and lovely Maria. And I am grateful for the reminder of who and where we all are.