Two weeks ago, we had to put down our dog. His name was Fritzie, and he was a piebald dapple long-haired dachshund. He was 11, which is slightly older than middle-age for dachshunds (many can live up to 18 years), but he had a rare kidney disease that the breed is prone to, and it created a slew of health problems, including high blood pressure and gastro-intestinal problems. When it became clear that he was in pain, we made the decision.
My daughter, 10, was devastated. Fritzie was still a puppy when we brought Olivia home from the hospital. We were somewhat nervous because we knew that, as a breed, dachshunds aren’t always good with kids. Some dachshunds can be nippy and mean around children.
Not Fritzie. He fell in love with his human little sister immediately. He loved to lick her bald baby head, and he always sat right next to her, acting like her little sentry.
When my father died last February, my wife found a book called “The Invisible String” by Patrice Karst, an adorable picture book that my daughter wanted read to her very night for nearly a month after her grandpa’s passing. The book was about how everybody was attached to everybody by a series of strings connecting our hearts, including strings that go to the place where our loved ones who have passed now reside. In this sense, we are always connected.
“The Invisible Leash”, also by Karst, similarly deals with the invisible leashes that connect our hearts with our beloved pets that have passed on. No matter where you go, the invisible leash is always connecting you with them.
I’m tearing up as I write this. Fritzie was absolutely the best little friend and family member one could ask for, and I hope he is somewhere chasing infinite squirrels and rabbits and where the warm sun is always shining down on him.