SAYING GOODBYE TO GRACIE

When the divorce first happened, the kids would crawl into my bed at night. Totally understandable. And, quite frankly, I enjoyed having a son tucked under each arm.

Eventually they grew larger. When Matthew was going through puberty, I decided it was probably time to move him back to his own bed. But he still needed that warm body next to him. So the search for the right dog began.

We tried everything and looked everywhere. Don’t believe everything you hear about free companion dogs for special-needs children. They may call them “free,” but they certainly make you work for their charity, often with a minimum donation of $12,000.

We drove as far north as San Rafael and as far south as Monterey. We went east toward Modesto and west—well, Half Moon Bay was about as far as we could go before we ran into the ocean. We looked at every type of dog you can imagine, but none seemed to be the right match for Matthew. So, in the beginning, the search became almost its own weekend activity.

Then, one Saturday, we were at the dog shelter in Burlingame when Matthew spotted a pit bull puppy.
A pit bull was not exactly my first choice for a dog to accompany an autistic child. Still, I agreed to let them sit together in a room.

Matthew began making his familiar autistic movements, flapping his arms and rocking back and forth That’s when I noticed something different about this puppy. Instead of backing away, as so many of the other dogs had done, this little girl moved closer. She seemed curious rather than frightened, as if she wanted to understand what was happening.

We left without getting the dog. But on the drive home, that experience, and Matthew telling me how much he liked her, made me think about how much time we had spent searching for the right dog. And then it hit me. We had found her. So we turned the car around and drove back.

About a month into our life with our new family member, Matthew went into a full-blown autistic meltdown. He was yelling, flapping his arms, jumping around, completely overwhelmed.
Gracie, that was the name the shelter had given her, and we decided to keep it, walked over to him. Then she pushed him. She kept pushing until he finally fell back onto the couch. Then Gracie jumped up beside him and lay across his lap.
That was when I realized, without a doubt, that we had chosen the right dog.

There were, of course, plenty of ups and downs.
There were many times I wanted to get rid of her because she would chew through the furniture. There were her miraculous escapes into the neighborhood. On one occasion, she even killed an innocent rabbit. But somehow, through all of it, Gracie became part of us. She grew up with our family. She became part of the rhythm of our lives. And when Matthew was home, she slept beside him.

Dogs have a way of becoming more than pets. They become family. But we had to say goodbye. Bone cancer.
Now the house feels different without her.
It feels quieter.
Sometimes I hear a sound and instinctively think, That’s Gracie.
Then I remember. She’s not here anymore. So it must be the wind.

Goodbye, Gracie.
You were a good dog.
We will miss you.