Anyone who has loved and lost a furry soulmate can recall that first time you came home to silence. I remember turning the doorknob that first evening and bracing myself for the emptiness that would spill out, replacing the overwhelming joy I had felt every time I entered that door for the 15 years I was met by my best friend. For Murdock, the lady who was about to let him outside was back. For me, I was home. Where I could let go, shut the door to the world, and just be. The first time I pushed the door open and was not greeted by my sweet boy, I realized that the walls and windows were not home. He was.
After Murdock’s departure, I had an inexplicable need to attach words to my feelings. An impossible task. Until I found the words that became the inspiration for this blog. I am lost. You were home. More recently, I also found: Grief is like wanting to go home. But you can’t. This is what I felt. This is what I still feel.
As an introvert, I recharge in solitude. I am most comfortable by myself. Yes, we all have to adapt to the world in which we live, but if we are lucky, we have a soulmate with whom we don’t have to be anyone but our truest self. We can exhale. That was Murdock for me.
In many ways, Murdock was not a typical Labrador. Any literature about the breed includes that Labradors are eager to please. In making my boy, God missed that ingredient. Whether I was happy or sad, dancing or crying, he would give me an annoyed look, sigh, and usually walk away. I tried relentlessly to entertain him. He was not amused. The trait I loved most about him was that he was always his authentic self. His perfect self.
I think this is a true gift of furry soulmates. They have no expectations of the world, and don’t feel bound by expectations placed on them. They take naps in strange spots, they drool, they play with toys even as they grow old, they shed, they kick you in their sleep, they beg for even small morsels of food . . . and we treasure every single second.
Wearing the mask we create to acclimate to the outside world can be tiring. But with our soulmates, we can set that aside, and just be. When I came through the door, Murdock wholly and unconditionally accepted me (even if it was because I would let him outside) – and I could not love his perfectly aloof, grumpy self more. It was so simple, so easy – so very unlike how the rest of life can be.
I have turned the doorknob to enter my house hundreds of times since Murdock’s departure, and I am still hit by a wave of emptiness every time. Within my house I can be myself, I can let my guard down – but he is the one who loved that version of me, my genuine self, and made these walls home. Without that home, my truest self feels lost.
