A few weeks ago, I wrote about the lessons of life that my girlfriend’s Sharon’s dog had given me over the past six years. This column I write with a heavy heart, but one filled with gratitude and love for this wonderful dog.

Earlier this month we had to say goodbye to Sophie. Sharon had to put down her miniature schnauzer. Sophie’s health had been gradually failing during the last two years with multiple infections; nonetheless, she outlived the life expectancy for a schnauzer because of one simple reason. Sharon loved and cared for her until the very end.

Sophie leaves behind years of memories full of fun and happiness, of playfulness and hundreds of licks upon my face. Whenever I came to the door, she would run to greet me and I would sing her a goofy song that I made up with her name that got her even more excited to welcome me into her home.

I have come to realize a somewhat disturbing irony about pets and humans. People come into our lives with no guarantees they will stay with us forever, but the day we bring home a puppy or a kitten, we cannot possibly think of the cold, hard truth of what will happen one day in the years to come.

Our pets live with us until the day they die.

We watch them grow and we see them get old. We take them to the veterinarian every time they get sick, but eventually, we have to prepare for what cannot be stopped. For Sophie, she began to lose her appetite. Then she couldn’t climb stairs anymore. Her back legs shook when she tried to take a step. We knew the end was near. We hoped that she would pass peacefully in her bed, but the day came when she was unresponsive to our attention.

If I had needed any more proof that all dogs go to heaven, I got it from Sophie on the morning of the day she took her final ride to the veterinarian. She lay in her bed in the living room, asleep in her favorite place. A beam of sunshine came through a window and threw its light directly upon Sophie’s face. I knew right away what that meant. This beam of light was a sign that she will be welcomed home by the same life force that had birthed her into this universe.

The final ride to the vet’s office was just a few blocks. I held this little dog in my arms while Sharon drove the car. I petted Sophie’s head, not to ease her pain, but to ease mine. At the vet’s, Sharon embraced Sophie until her best friend for the past 12 years had taken her last breath.

Of course, our grief began immediately. We knew that we would still “see” Sophie running up to us with her adoring eyes and every time we sat down to eat dinner, we will still see her right by the table waiting patiently for our table scraps.

One of my favorite memories is when Sophie sat next to me on the couch while I wrote these columns. Another is when Sharon put her outside at night to do her business and Sophie would have to be called back into the house.

“She has a few critters out in the backyard she likes to visit at night,” Sharon would say with a laugh.

Veteran dog trainer Suzanne Clothier put the death of a beloved pet into a beautiful perspective.

“There is a cycle of love and death that shapes the lives of those who choose to travel in the company of animals. It is a cycle unlike any other. To those who have never lived through its turnings and walked its rocky path, our willingness to give our hearts with full knowledge that they will be broken seems incomprehensible. Only we know how small a price we pay for what we receive; our grief, no matter how powerful it may be, is an insufficient measure of the joy we have been given.”

As I reread the quote from Suzanne Clothier, my eyes froze at the line, “ … our willingness to give our hearts with full knowledge that they will be broken seems incomprehensible.”

So, why do we do it anyway? The writer says that it’s a small price we pay for what we get in return, and our grief has powerful as it may be is “an insufficient measure of the joy we have been given.” Sophie, like so many pets, was a giant bundle of joy that she never stopped bringing to us. Through all our human trials and conflicts of life, and any feelings of despondency we might had about worrisome issues, just one look into her eyes and we knew that everything was going to be just fine.

Here are some other words that describe what we must go through when our pets pass away.

Winnie the Pooh once said, “How lucky I was to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Dr. Seuss said, “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”

American naturalist Roger Caras said, “Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.”

Baseball player and broadcaster Joe Garagiola said, “You don’t really own a dog. You rent them, and you have to be thankful, you had a long lease.”

It makes me wonder how a pet like Sophie can unconditionally love anyone who had stepped her way while the human race puts so many conditions on who we should love and how we should love. All dogs love their families no matter what their behaviors might be, but it’s truly extraordinary if you know two people who are still in love with each other despite all their imperfections.

Sophie was there for us even when we were not there for her. She held no grudges if we failed to give her the attention she wanted. She had a dog’s sense when either Sharon or I might not be feeling well. She spoke her affection for us through her eyes and with her joyful emotions, all coming from a heart she was given at birth that was packed full of appreciation for having lived inside a loving home.

So, now we will spend the time we need to be sad and to grieve, but soon enough, we will smile and laugh whenever we share memories of Sophie that are locked forever inside our hearts.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com