My Aunt Sarah died over 16 months ago. During a recent conversation I had with her husband, my Uncle James, he shared with me a story about their dog’s unusual behavior following my aunt’s death.
As a dog lover, I’ve always been impressed with stories I’ve heard about the instincts and loyalty of animals and how some of them travel great distances to reunite with their owners. And research has proven that dogs have an innate sense of protection for the people with whom they live. After my uncle told me about their family dog’s performance following my aunt’s death, I am even more convinced that just as dogs are “man’s best friend” we are theirs also.
When my aunt died not only was she mourned by numerous relatives and friends who traveled from far and wide to celebrate her homegoing, unbeknownst to us her absence was also felt by her family owned German Shepherd named Sparky.
My aunt and uncle had owned Sparky for many years and although I never knew the dog’s precise age, I do remember him being a frisky, energetic young canine that could easily intimidate anyone entering my aunt and uncle’s yard. Back then, when my aunt saw our family arriving at her home and then backing away when the dog appeared from around the side of the house, her confident words before shooing him away, “He won’t bother you.” didn’t make me feel any less afraid of that dog. It’s like a dog owner telling me, “He won’t bite.” and me thinking, “He’s got teeth, doesn’t he?” As I said, I do like dogs, providing they don’t frighten me. I remember being wary of Sparky even after he grew old and slow; because as is a dog’s nature, he was no less territorial.
Long before Sparky became a member of their household my aunt and uncle lived in New York City. After retiring from their jobs in the Big Apple, they built a spacious brick house on family-owned land in Eastern North Carolina, outside a small town with a Mayberry feel to it. Several feet across the lawn from my aunt and uncle’s place, within shouting distance, is an old wood frame house built by my grandparents during the period dominated by World War II. They lived there until their deaths. Grandpa, the town’s popular Baptist preacher, who I never had the pleasure of knowing, died in 1946. Grandma left us in 1987. I cherish memories of the wonderful times that my immediate family and I spent visiting between the two houses over the years when grandma was alive. After grandma died, my aunt and uncle’s home became the primary gathering place for many family members on holidays, getaway weekends, and other occasions.
In the rear of those two houses, partially encircled by a forest, is the small, family cemetery, the final resting place for a number of our family members. It is a quiet place where the living who visit the gravesite can connect spiritually with our departed loved ones. Apparently, Sparky connected there, too.
I will tell you Sparky’s story as my uncle told it to me.
Aunt Sarah died in 2011 on Thanksgiving Day. Her funeral was held the following week, in a warm December; December 3rd to be exact, at the church located a mile away from her home.
After the funeral, the procession drove to the family cemetery for the interment. Before the family and guests began arriving at the homestead, my uncle put Sparky in his pen because he did not want the dog running loose and frightening people who were coming to the burial ground.
That evening after all the family members had left, Sparky was let out of his pen and he immediately took off running down the dirt path toward the cemetery.
For several days after my aunt’s burial Sparky went nightly to her grave and began digging in the same place beside the grave; each time making the hole a little wider. When my uncle first discovered the gap, he thought that perhaps a possum or some other wild animal was disturbing the gravesite, but upon further investigation he learned that it was Sparky who created the hole and then snuggled into it each night; remaining there until my uncle called him for his meal the next morning.
Although Sparky came trotting obediently whenever my uncle called, the grief-stricken dog refused to eat the meals set out for him. In the days following my aunt’s burial, Sparky began losing weight rapidly and appeared to be listless and ailing. At times the canine looked like he could barely walk, but each night he hobbled to the gravesite and nestled in his hole beside my aunt’s grave.
Sparky’s deteriorating condition greatly concerned my uncle. The pet looked more sickly and malnourished than he’d ever looked before, so my uncle took the dog to the vet. The vet attributed Sparky’s wretched state to arthritis and old age and suggested that the best thing Uncle James could do for him was to put him down. Feeling that it was better for Sparky to be euthanized than to continue suffering, my uncle reluctantly agreed.
“Would you like to spend some time with Sparky before we put him to rest?” the vet asked. My uncle said that he would and he spent several emotional moments with Sparky before stroking him one last time. Two weeks after my aunt’s funeral, Sparky also was gone.
Scientific research shows that just like us humans, many animals display wide-ranging emotions, including joy, happiness, empathy, compassion, and grief. In the article Dogs May Mourn as Deeply as Humans Do, Healthday reporter, Maryann Mott quotes Dr. Sophia Yin, a San Francisco-based veterinarian and applied animal behaviorist who states that “Grief is one of the basic emotions dogs experience, just like people.”
Sparky did not die solely of old age, he grieved himself to death.