The dogless days of autumn

We’re going through a tough stretch at home.  You see, my oldest son’s dog ran away and it has made him rather sad.

It’s not easy for the rest of us either.  The younger boy, at 20 months, hasn’t really grasped the concept that the dog is gone.  It is like he just assumes that they keep missing each other.

My wife and I are trying to put on a good face, but the truth is a) we loved the dog, and b) it is painful to watch a 4-year-old boy be so sad.  I remember having similar situations in my own childhood and how my parents had handled it with the perfect mix of stoicism and compassion.  I didn’t realize how hard that was until it fell to me.  Who knew that being on this side of fence would be so hard?

My hope is obvious, that the dog be found healthy and safe.  My fear is that she will not return and the endless questions that will surely follow.  We’ve been fortunate enough to get this far without facing topics of death (I replaced the fish) or discussions of existentialism, and frankly I’m not ready to face them yet.  Yes, these topics, like all others will be approached at one point or another, but the innocence of childhood is fleeting enough and I feel no need to rush it.

We’re missing a dog and there is a hole in our home.  My optimism runs thin.