“Do you think dogs get suicidally depressed?” She asked, rolling over against me. “I mean, do they ever feel so sad they don’t want to live any more?”
I adjusted so I could wrap her in my arms against my chest where I knew she liked to be. I kissed the top of her head. “What brought up that thought?”
“I was thinking about how bad I got after…well, you know.” She stroked my chest. “Then I wondered if everyone else feels like that when they lose someone they love. Which led me to thinking about how life companions grieve after their owners die. Remember that meme that showed the short video of the cat reacting to a video after his owner died? When he rubbed up against the phone?” She started sniffling.
“Yes. I remember that.” I softly responded, my thumb stroking her arm.
“Do you think they just will themselves to die? Just give up on ever finding love again? Lose all hope?” Her voice kept shrinking. It’s as if the thought she was manifesting with her questions got louder while her expressions got smaller.
“What do you think?”
“I think they do. I think that companion animals know things better than we do. They give love unconditionally like we should, but we always fall short. But they still wait long times for their owners to return only to be disappointed. Am I disappointing?” I could barely hear her.
I squeezed her against me as she began to sob, making my skin wet with her tears. With tenderness I kiss her forehead, letting her release the sads. She’s been like this since I met her, fragile but so strong for the burdens of the world. “No,” I whisper against her hair. “You just love which is not disappointing.”
She rolled away from me long enough to snuggle up into the little spoon.