Hi everyone,
I've kind of been dreading this blog post for awhile now but I finally feel like I am in a better place at this time and can write about what I've been avoiding for so long now. Ferdinand died on Thursday, October 29, 2015 around 12:45 a.m. It was the hardeset night of my life because I lost my best friend in the entire world. It's still so hard for me to talk about and hold back tears but I don't ever want to lose any of the wonderful memories that we shared together. Ferdinand was such a special dog, we had such a strong connection and loved each other endlessly. I have been in a lot of pain mourning the loss of my dog. For over a month I couldn't even come back to my house. It was too painful to walk in and not be greeted by a little bulldog who sees you as the light of his world. To be honest, it still is. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him. I had to make the tough decision to put my dog to sleep and I feel that it is something that still haunts me today. I know that I could have kept Ferd around here longer. It might not have been that much longer, but we would've had more time together. Ferdinand had a tumor in his brain, I was left feeling hopeless and cried for over two hours before I could even make the decision. He wasn't even in the right state of mind anymore, he kept having seizure episodes that in the end he couldn't even recognize my voice or see me. This is why I decided to put him out of his pain, he was in so so so much pain and he had absolutely idea what was going on. I was hurting for so long, I still am, and sometimes you just have to talk or write about things. I just miss him so much and wish he was here with me, I've needed you so much Ferdinand. I am going to close the post out with a poem that my Hemingway Professor mentioned in class. He oddly mentioned it on the day I lost Ferdinand when I still decided to attend class and it has stuck with me ever since then. The poem is by Miguel Unamuno and it is titled 'Elegy On The Death of A Dog'. The poem perfectly describes all the feelings I have toward my wonderful Ferdinand The Bulldog. I wish you were here, where are you little guy?
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A DOG by Miguel Unamuno
the poor restless dog,
and forever
faithful it lay to rest in its motherly
pious land.
Its gentle eyes
will not fix themselves on mine
with mute sadness;
will not lick my hand
nor in my lap will its slender head
repose.
And now: of what do you dream?
Where has your submissive spirit gone?
Is there no other world
in which you will revive, my poor beast,
and above the heavens
I’ll walk you trotting by my side?
The other world!
Other... other and not this!
A world without the dog,
no soft mountains,
no serene rivers
flanked by the serene trees,
no birds or flowers,
no dogs, or horses,
no oxen that plough...
The other world!
World of the spirits!
But, there, we will not have
the souls of the living things
around our soul,
the soul of the fields,
the souls of the rocks,
the souls of the trees and the rivers,
of the beasts?
Over there, in the other world,
your soul, poor dog.
Will it not have to repose its spiritual head
in my spiritual lap?
The tongue of your soul, poor friend,
will it not lick the hand of my soul?
The other world... !
Other... and not this!
Oh, you will never be back, my poor dog,
to submerge your eyes
in the eyes that were your mandate;
see, the land rips you up
from he who was your ideal, your god, your glory.
But he, your sad lord,
will he have you in the other life?
The other world...?
The other world is the one of pure spirit!
Of the pure spirit!
Oh, terrible purity,
inanity, empty!
Will I never see you again, gentle friend?
There, will you be a memory,
pure memory?
And this memory:
will it not run before my eyes?
Will it not leap, yielding unto happiness,
pricking up the tail?
Will it not lick the hand of my spirit?
Will it not gaze into my eyes?
This memory:
will you not be you, you yourself,
lord of yourself, living eternal life?
Your dreams: what were they made of?
What of the piety with which you followed loyally
the mandate of my voice?
I was your religion, I was your glory;
you dreamed of God in me;
my eyes were a window for you
from the other world.
If you knew, my dog,
how sad your god is because you have died.
Your god will also die one day!
You died with your eyes
on my eyes fixed,
perhaps searching in these eyes for the mystery
that enshrouded you.
And your pupils, sad
to spy my induring desires,
seemed to ask:
Where are we going my lord?
Where are we going?
Life with man, poor beast,
has given you perhaps a dark longing
that the wolf knows not;
perhaps when you lay the head
in my lap
you vaguely dreamed of being a man
after death!
To be man, poor beast!
Look, my poor friend,
my faithful believer;
to see your eyes that watch me die,
to see your gaze crystallising,
once fluid,
I also ask you: Where are we going?
To be man, poor dog!
Look, your brother
is this other poor dog,
spread eagled by the tomb of your god,
howling at the heavens,
calls on death!
You have died in gentleness,
you with sweetness,
giving yourself up to me in the supreme
submission of life;
but he, he who whimpers
alongside the tomb of his god, of his lord,
neither dying knows.
You, on dying, vaguely sensed
life in my memory,
to not die completely,
but your poor brother
is seen as already dead in life,
is seen to be lost
and howls at the sky begging for death.
Rest in peace, my poor comrade,
rest in peace; sadder
the fortune of your god that is not yours.
The gods weep,
the gods weep when the dog dies
that licked their hands,
that watched their eyes,
and on seeing them thus asked:
Where are we going?
Thanks for reading, it was incredibly painful to write this and to read the bittersweet words that Unamuno wrote. I know that Ferdinand isn't in this world or another world or a heaven. It's hard to realize that and it's hard to write it out. All I have is our memories together, I'll carry them with me until the last day of my life.
Deborah
