Coming Home Won't Be the Same

There is a saying that suggests the best part of a holiday is coming home. Coming home won't be the same for us this holiday. This morning our family dog, Thor, passed away. The whole family has been grieving ever since, lots of tears and deep breaths. This is a testament to how much Thor was truly part of our family. It will not be the same to come home to a house without Thor; no barking with excitement to greet us, no sniffing of parcels and luggage, no rubbing his head against our legs (or whatever other body part was available). In whatever way he made his presence known, that is forever gone, and we all feel a big hole in our lives.

Thor was named for the Norse god of Thunder. In many ways this proved to be an appropriate name; Thor's bark was big and loud, and he enjoyed 'thundering' away at the neighbour's dogs and cats, birds who made the mistake of landing in our yard, and whatever else caught his attention. The Norse god Thor was the strongest of the gods, and our Thor was certainly a strong dog, both in terms of physical strength and force of will. The only way the name was not fitting was Thor's fear of lightning and thunder. We could always tell when a prairie thunderstorm was coming because Thor would start getting agitated as much as a couple hours before the storm hit. He hated thunderstorms so much that in his early years he would try to burrow into the floor (he must have finally figured out that was a useless exercise because he didn't try that in his latter years).

Thor was an Airedale Terrier, a distinguished looking dog, especially after being groomed. We would often get comments on him while out for walks. I know I'm biased but he was a pretty handsome dog. He hated getting his picture taken however, so we don't have many good pictures of him. I've attached one of the better ones from recent months to this post.

Perhaps Thor's most distinguishing characteristic was his singing. Certain things would set him off in his unique half yodel, half howl - if I played my saxophone, or sometimes when Anna was practicing her flute. Most often, however, it was when the family was gathered together singing, such as when we were singing "Happy Birthday" to someone, or when the extended family was gathered together for a celebration like one of the kid's Confirmation, and we sang a table grace. Sometimes it was hard to finish the table grace because Thor's singing was so comical. He seemed so intent in joining in "whooowhooowhoooooooooo". His singing brought a smile to many people's faces over the years, and I'm sad that we'll no longer hear that sound in our house. Fortunately we have a few recordings of Thor's singing that we can always play, though I don't think I could bear to hear those recordings for quite a while.

Thor was part of our lives for 10 and a half years, that's a big part to lose suddenly. He wasn't acting his normal self the past couple of days, and last night he wouldn't eat or drink anything. I thought that maybe he was constipated, which has happened periodically in the past. Last night when he wouldn't eat or drink anything and was acting very weak I said to the boys that if he hadn't improved by morning we would take him to the vet. Beth found him lying at the foot of the stairs this morning, his favourite place to keep track of the household. He had passed away between 4:30 AM (when Thomas last sat with him) and 6:30 AM when Beth found him. We are grateful that he didn't seem to suffer long, but the suddenness of his death has really hit us all hard.

In the end I'm grateful this happened now, and not while we were on vacation in Europe. This way everyone got to say their goodbyes, and the kids didn't have to deal with this difficult and sad circumstance on their own. We are still looking forward to going to Europe, but today we're just thinking of who is missing here at home. Coming home won't be the same.