Requiem for a dude (and his little dog, too)

Last week, I was immensely sad to read that Jorge Garcia’s dog Nunu died: “as we were preparing to all go to the airport Nunu was struck by a car as she crossed the street. She died in my arms,” Mr. Garcia wrote.

Poor Jorge! He loved that dog. His life must feel so strange now, with “Lost” over, living back on the mainland, with Nunu dead. This is one of the pains of the death of a pet — not only the loss of a companion, but the end of an era. We often get pets at times of transition in our lives, and when those pets die, that chapter in our life feels even more definitively closed. Mr. Garcia has shut down his “Dispatches from the Island” blog and started a new blog, for this new phase of his life. The Nunu years are over. Have you ever had a pet whose lifetime coincided with a particular phase of your life, whose passing seemed to be the end of one chapter of your story?

Before we all leave the island for good, I suppose I should reassess my earlier criticism of how Hurley’s alternative universe was played out. Since the alternaverses were only mental constructs, or purgatory, or a bardo, or some damned thing or other, the emphasis on Hurley’s weight in his alternate-universe story reflected his own insecurity, not the writers’ fat prejudice. I think there’s still room for criticism — was Hurley’s primary reason for insecurity really his weight? He seemed to not trust himself because of his earlier bouts with mental illness and his lack of education and acknowledged leadership capabilities — but I think a lot of character development got sloppy toward the end there, so I don’t feel Hurley got a particularly raw deal.

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3 Responses to Requiem for a dude (and his little dog, too)

  1. Molly says:

    Both the cats I brought to Boston with me from Iowa are gone now…it wasn’t a particularly closely-timed correlation, but once Loki died, I did feel a page turn to the next chapter. I’d had him for eighteen years; he was there for my almost flunking out of college, my recovery from that, my college graduation, my first real job, my first teaching job, my return to grad school, my move to Boston and my marriage. He saw me through a lot of growing up, even if said seeing through mostly consisted of sitting just out of my peripheral vision and muttering to himself a lot.

  2. Anne with an E says:

    I was in third grade the first night we brought home our lovable 8-week-old mutt. She let out the most desperate cries (it must have been her Basset Hound side!) as soon as we went to bed, so I spent the night curled up on the kitchen floor, stroking her impossibly soft ears through the slats of her puppy crate.

    I was a recent college grad, engaged and working at my first big-kid job the night before we had to let our lovable mutt go. I spent the night lying next to her on the hallway floor, crying and stroking her still impossibly soft ears, wondering where my childhood went. She was part of my family for my entire transition from childhood to adulthood, laughter, tears, successes, failures… the best and the worst.

    Three years later, I’ve finally stopped expecting her to greet me at the door when I visit my parents’ house. When we have the time and the financial stability, my husband and I will get a dog together. But no one could ever replace my lovable childhood mutt.

  3. diane says:

    I have a photo of me with our family cat, “Kitty,” when she was a kitten and I was four years old. She was one tough cat to put up with a rambunctious family of four boys and two girls. She had been the runt of her litter and stayed small, so I’ve always had a warped sense of how big cats are supposed to be. I was the only one around when my parents decided to have her put to sleep. It happened to be the first day of my first “real” full-time job out of college. I carried her in my arms into the vet’s office, and the receptionist said, “Oh what a pretty kitten. Is she here for her shots?” and I had to answer, “No, she’s 19 years old and she’s here to be put to sleep.” Wow, that hurt. Oh well, off to my new job; time to start my adulthood.

    Kitty’s been gone for over 20 years, but I’m still amazed at how big “normal” cats actually are.

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