A tribute to my late dog Mason

Plus, the complexities of deep love and the loss of knowingness.

A few months ago I lost my dog Mason. If you know personally, (or follow me on instagram), you know Mason was the center of my universe. This type of attachment to a dog is often the case for many dog owners. I know I am not alone.

I lost Mason to lymphoma. It happened so fast. He got diagnosed in late March and by June he was so sick he couldn’t stand up. I took him for every type of chemotherapy I could. No amount of money and no treatment could buy him any more time. It was a cruel ride. Some weeks went great and gave me hope, and then other times treatments failed. Hope and then hopelessness.

In June I had to make the decision to put him down. I laid with him one last night knowing the next day would be his last. He could barely pick his head up to drink water. It was devastating.

It’s months later and my heart still feels like it is breaking with grief. Losing Mason brought so much deep sadness. It’s just not something I expected to hit my so f-cking hard. Of course, as dog owners, we know this day will come. But the feeling of loss continues to linger.

I am overwhelmed with an unrelenting sadness that is deeper than what I’ve felt for other dogs, or even people, that I’ve lost. Is this normal? I did some research to find out and came across countless articles and animal grief support groups on Facebook. Turns out, I am far from alone.

“Our pets are there for us when other humans may not be,” says Robert Neimeyer, the author of several books on grief and bereavement. “Pets provide what psychologists call a ‘secure base’ for us where we can feel unconditionally loved and trusted. 

There is a ton of scientific study out there detailing why the loss of a pet is often much more difficult than the loss of a family member. This Washington Post article cites a a 1988 study in the Journal of Mental Health Counseling where nearly 40% of subjects say their dog is their closest friend and family member — and that was 36 years ago, before social media spurred the epidemic of disconnection and loneliness!

This article from Outside magazine titled “How to Grieve For A Very Good Boy” spoke to me the most. The author wrote eloquently about her lab Sunny, her faithful companion through a divorce and a series of other traumatic events. She detailed the intense grief she experienced like this: “Sunny was the handrail along the edge of a thousand-foot cliff. Navigating life’s challenges seemed doable because I knew I could hold on to her if needed. Now the handrail was gone.” This describes exactly how I feel.

I rescued Mason, a big, brindled mixed breed who was intelligent, handsome and permanently happy, when he was 4 months old. He was a “velcro dog” as they say and since he was part herding dog, he never left my side. He was instantly my best friend.

Since Sammy, the Siberian Husky I had growing up, lived to be 16, I convinced myself that Mason would live until at least 17. I was wrong.  One minute Mason was chasing around squirrels and the next he could barely stand. Cancer is a real bitch. In people and dogs.

The author of this recent piece in The Atlantic details how she cried more for her dog than when her mother died. And if you haven’t watched ESPN sportscaster Scott Van Pelt’s tribute to his Rhodegian Ridgeback Otis… man, it’s gut wrenching. He starts off by saying that losing Otis was harder than losing his father.

I know this is not true for everyone, and I don’t mean to minimize the death of a human being, but there are specific, inarguable reasons why losing a pet can hit harder that losing a parent.

The Atlantic article makes an eloquent point noting that not only is the time spent with a dog often more than anyone in your life (not to mention that time spent is with an unconditional and uncomplicated love), but your pet’s life is a life that we have witnessed in full. An intimate relationship experienced fully from beginning to end.

NOBODY IS IMMUNE THE EMOTIONAL FALLOUT

In my search for answers I also came across several public letters written by celebrities after their pet's passing. This practice of writing your beloved animal a letter is recommended in many pet- grief protocols. I don’t know if it will help, but at this point, I’ll try anything to feel better.

The most touching letters I read were from Tom Hardy and Fionna Apple. Tom Hardy’s long and detailed tribute details the life of his best friend Woodstock, aka Woody. From the moment he found Woody on the side of a road, some of the trials and tribulations of raising a dog – it’s often not easy as any pet owner knows. But, as I look around at all my chewed pillows and diarrhea stained rugs, I would give anything to have Mason chew a hole in one of my pillows one more time.

There is one passage in Tom Hardy’s letter that rings so true to me and I cannot write it any better in my letter, so Tom please forgive me for lifting your words, because they so eloquently state how I feel,

“Above all I am completely gutted. The world for me was a better place with him in it and by my side. To the bestest friend ever. To me and to a family who loved him beyond words and whom he loved without doubt more than I have ever known. Woody was the bestest of journey companions we ever could dream of having. Our souls intertwined forever.”  

Again, exactly how I feel about Mason.

Fiona Apple’s letter to her dog is equally moving, Her eloquent and beautiful words reminded me of how many roles a dog can play in your life: your best friend, your guardian, your source of love, your therapist, your caregiver, your ultimate soul mate.

THE TRIGGERING OF PAST TRAUMA

The loss of Mason has also caused a lot of reflection and a lot of triggering deep emotions. I also read this is very normal and to be expected.

Mason was by my side through my retirement at JPM, the start of new businesses (Woodstock Brewing, HALO Hydration), the failure of some of those businesses, the failure of my marriage, and the depression and anxiety that came with a very difficult time in my life.

In late 2019 I discovered my ex husband’s affair with a girl who was just 20 years old and worked for us at our brewery. I also discovered he had been hiding massive financial losses from me. Severe anxiety attacks took over.  I had crippling depression. The three of us (Mason, Odin and me) moved into a one bedroom apartment in New York City near Union Square. It was me and two 80lb dogs. Not an easy feat in a tiny New York City pad. My ex had also become severely alcoholic and borderline abusive.

But Mason and Odin were my 160lb weighted anxiety blanket. Odin always slept across my legs with his head facing the door in protection mode. While Mason (my eldest dog) always slept flanking me to one side with his head on my pillow. His heartbeat and steady breathing regulated my nervous system and kept me calm. 

Mason was everything to me during this time: a big brother watching over me, a loving partner, and a caretaker. Odin is part bloodhound with a more watchdog instinct than anything. And I love him dearly as well, but Mason never missed an emotional beat.

THE LOSS OF KNOWINGNESS

With Mason gone, I feel like I lost the closest friend I have ever had. The one “person” in my life I could count on and the one “person” that knew me so intimately.  He was with me through so many phases of my life every step of the way.

As we get older, these relationships become fewer and fewer. So along with all the other scientific theories I discussed above, I’d like to throw one more “theory” into the mix of why losing a dog is so hard. It’s something that I like to call “the loss of knowingness.”

I think it is a similar feeling we go through when we lose a long term partner or go through a divorce.

It takes time to develop deep relationships where someone really knows you and you can truly trust them. This is with a dog, with a partner, with a new friend. And when we lose these connections and touch points in our day to day life, it can throw you off balance in a devastating way.

As I get older and more and more of my friends get divorced, I hear this sentiment often: Ah….dating is so hard, to go through all the work of someone knowing you again…I don’t know if I have it in me to do all over again.

To build that level of knowingness, trust, and intimacy simply takes time. And that’s a part of the loss we mourn. We must start over.

And will it ever be the same? Does it matter? Should it be the same?

Will a new person ever really know you? They haven’t lived through these huge formative chapters of your life and they don’t have the level of intimate knowledge that is now gone and past.

They haven’t been there through the earlier versions of you.

A relationship with a dog is uniquely special. A dog learns your daily ticks and habits, and you in turn learn theirs. You begin to know every nuance of each other’s behaviors. And even the subtlest of behaviors a dog picks up on. Without words you communicate and understand each other. The relationship you have with your dog is primal. It transcends all human to human communication.

So in following in the footsteps of Tom Hardy, my dearest Mason, I love you more than words could ever express. Here is my letter to you.

A LOVE LETTER

Dear Mason,

You were my rock, my soul dog, and my support system on every level.

Your DNA test said you were part Labrador retriever, part Australian Cattle dog, part American Staffordshire terrier and 150% perfect. You were the smartest dog I have ever had, not only in intelligence but more importantly in emotional intelligence.  You could read my emotions and the emotions of others instantly. Your ability to pick up cues from people was uncanny to any other dog I have had through my life.

Your happiness was infectious and always lifted my mood and everyone around you. The Australian Cattledog in you made you simply the most brilliant dog. I think you could outsmart many humans I know.

You were always smiling and your tail always wagging. I think that was the American Staffordshire in you. Meanwhile, the Labrador in you made you gentle and stoic.

You were always my caretaker and my closest friend. You never left my side.

You were with me through the hardest time in my life and I hope you know just how much you helped me. Your deep dark eyes were always staring into my soul, always telling me – hey mom- it’s going to be ok.

There are so many memories solidified in my mind where I can close my eyes and see your face. You were so full of expression with your arsenal of head tilts, eyebrow moves, and your big dark eyes.

I remember so vividly the day I closed on my Kingston property. The very first house I bought and renovated all on my own. It was right after my divorce. I didn’t know how I was going to support myself.  Luckily I had a lengthy Wall Street career under my belt, but I had been out of the work force for man years at this point. When I got the keys to 24 Avalon Hill and walked into this giant run down monstrocity. I was a bit terrified.

I sat down on the floor in this old empty house and I cried. I looked down at you Mason and you came running over to me and licked my face all over with happiness. Your eyes always told me I was going to be ok.

I don’t know if you understood half of what I was saying to you. But in my heart I felt you did. Because I used to talk to you like you were a person. I’ll miss our conversations about life, about love, and of course, about my furniture and renovation picks. I think you have walked through every Home Goods, stone yard, and tile center in the tri-state area with me. I’ve taken you to every house showing. If you didn’t like the house or if you didn’t think a chair or blanket was comfortable, it clearly wasn’t good enough. You always had really expensive taste.

A few weeks ago I wrote a letter to Dorinda (the foster mom I adopted you from) to thank her for her kindness to animals and her devotion to saving dogs. I wanted to let her know you passed away. Without her, I wouldn’t have had you in my life. 11 years later, she remembered you vividly. “Yes, Mason, he was always my favorite, he used to put all his toys away neatly in his crate, even as a puppy.”

You have been the best big brother to Odin. He misses you terribly. Without you it’s just not the same. I can close my eyes and still feel you next to me. I miss you so much.

Robin

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