Somewhere in the fine print at the very bottom of the contract you unknowingly sign when you push a human being out of your body it states that you have to explain death to your children.
I assumed telling them that Fido ran away (as did great Aunt Ethel and the guy down the street) was a good route to take. By the time they figured out the truth, they would have seen enough bad programming or played enough video games to know what really happens right? Ok, so apparently you cant do that..PFFT!
Our 13 year old dog took a turn for the worse and we knew the inevitable was coming and coming fast. So I dragged the kids to a book store, asked the guy for "books about dogs (whispered 'dying')". He nodded and pointed us in the right direction. I couldnt decide, so I grabbed three and went home.
I sat my son down and felt like I was tricking him, since he eagerly sat down expecting to hear a story about dogs and probably some fun adventures. I just imagined him listening to me and thinking "What? What the hell is this? The dog is dead? He is in a hole in the ground? The kid is crying? What is this shit?"
He took it all really well, so I assume he didn't really get it. But who am I to force the issue? When I was done, I explained a little about our dog and how he was very old and didn't feel very good, and I took him by the hand and led him out to the garage so we could pet the dog and see that he wasn't in great shape. My youngest who was playing in the corner got up and followed us into the garage. When we got back into the kitchen he was holding his hand out. I assumed he wanted me to hold his hand now too. So I grabbed a finger or two, led him through the kitchen and then let go. I was still talking with my 4 year old trying to make sure I wasn't scarring him for life and ruining any chance of ever sleeping peacefully again. So we went back into the living room, my 22 month old in tow. He is still looking like he wants my attention. I look at him and he holds his hand up at me again.
Im trying to find a funny picture of our dog from earlier times and so in a hurry I shake his hand and say "Nice to meet you!" and go back to flipping through the album.
And then it hits me.
The smell.
Coming from my hand.
And it all started to make sense.
He did not want me to hold his hand like I just did with his big brother. No. He didn't want to shake my hand either. Nope. What he did want however was to show me that while I was busy dancing the death talk tango, he was quietly in the corner doing his own little number (two). And he had the proof on his hand. And now MY hand!
Perhaps he sensed I was struggling with the topic and wanted to lighten it up a bit. I guess I should thank him.
Thanks. :/
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