The Dog

Here is my first story I ever wrote about grief.  I was six years old and in the first grade at the time.

Here is the translation for those of your who need it.  I was known as Patti at that age.  My father was a forest ranger and we lived in the woods.

The Dog

Lady was a little dog.  Lady only a year old.  She got lost in the woods and got a bullet.  She had to go to the veterinarian. She had to die.

I remember getting Lady as a young puppy.   Someone we knew had a littler of puppies and my sister and I got to pick her out.  One day in the fall she just never came home.  About a week later there was this faint sound at the door and it was Lady who had been shot by a hunter.

My father took her to the nearest vet, a long drive away.  The vet had to put her down.  She was too injured, and had too much infection to recover.

Somehow I instinctively knew how to write about the death of my dog.  I am lucky.  I was able to process this loss.  I was able to share it with my teacher and that allowed me to close my own grief process, much the same as the Grief Recovery Method teaches.

Hugs, Cee



21 Replies to “The Dog”

  1. Sometimes children that young process things better than adults… your knowing to write about it must have made you feel better, and you obviously had that innate ability to know it would. You have found the right path working with people and their grief.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Children process differently, not necessarily better. I think adults put to much logic into grieving and think more about the circumstances and complexities. Children keep it simple because they don’t know how to think like adults yet. A child’s innocence is precious. If adults could just get some of that back and just feel our emotions without the conflict it would help us all out.


  2. awww, poor Lady–long time in the woods injured, and sad for Cee/Patti who learned about loss. Hurts every time, and I am glad you were able to tell your story. The story and our experiences matter, particularly if we feel heard/listened to/respected when we tell our stories.


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