Norman Lee

My sister called me earlier today to tell me that our dog, who was about 15 years old at this point, had to be put to sleep. She was understandably broken up about it, since she was the one who wanted to get a dog in the first place, back when we were still kids. I was pretty shocked too, but I feel somewhat guilty for not taking it nearly as badly as she was. In fact, reflecting upon his life--and I'm trying to say this in the gentlest way possible, with no animosity--it's almost a relief now that he's finally gone.

He was never housebroken, so we kept him in the backyard. Over the years, this amounted to a sheltered life, never interacting with us unless one of us stepped out back, and we ended up getting the occasional complaint from neighbors when he would start howling at night. When it was cold, we couldn't do much besides add some bedding to his doghouse; and when it got extremely hot, as southern California is wont to do, we couldn't really help to cool him off, at least not for long. Frankly, he lived a pretty miserable life. No matter how well my sister tried to take care of him, staying in the backyard didn't allow him much of a joyful existence.

Nevertheless, acknowledging all this, I feel that I'm being overly insensitive and should be more upset about the passing of my dog, particularly since my sister has been so affected by it. Strangely, this is the first time a living being close to me, human or animal, has died. Maybe it's morbid, but I can't help but wonder how I'll end up taking the death of a close relative. Hopefully I'll be able to show a little more emotion than for the death of a pet.