Saying Goodbye to Duke

It's now a couple of weeks since we sadly had to say goodbye to our beloved dog Duke.


Duke was a rescue dog. When my husband and Duke set eyes on each other in 2009 it was love at first sight! His fabulous ears, the look in his eyes and the fact that he instantly went for a wee on our car wheel meant we couldn't not take him home! Our first dog.


Duke had an amazing personality, everyone seemed to fall in love with him, dog lovers and dog avoiders alike. He even cured one good friend of her fear of dogs. Whilst he needed plenty of training, and was unpredictable at times when it came to his reaction to other dogs, he was super intelligent and amazing with children of all ages.


I'm sure everyone with a pet thinks their own is the best. If you don't have pets it can be hard to work out what all the fuss is about. I think it is because they spend so much time with you, rely on you and give so much love back. They are a constant daily presence. So when they are gone there is a big gap.


We all resonate with losing a person we love. Losing a pet is a slightly different experience, for some it can be harder in some ways. I am not an expert in how to deal with grief of any kind, and I believe there can be grief in other situations not just in the death of a loved one. But I do want to share my experience of the early days after losing Duke and how my meditation practice has helped.


I have been completing an 8 week online meditation course for teachers by the late Michael Stone. Having read Michael's book, The Inner Tradition of Yoga and enjoyed his sensitive writing, I took the last minute decision to join the course with Yoga Campus and have reaped the rewards.


I wanted to deepen my meditation practice, explore new meditation practices and connect with other meditators. Michael had created and recorded the content before his death and one of his teachers led the online programme connecting with us each week.


I decided to watch the 8th week of videos on the Friday afternoon, a couple of hours before we had to make the decision to let Duke go.

His old age had really got the better of him and whilst we weren't expecting to have to make the decision that day, the universe obviously felt I needed that week’s teachings to support me.


The teachings were about practising meditation to support pain and emotion.


They included the Buddhist teaching of the two arrows/darts and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy’s idea of clean and dirty pain.

According to Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, there are two types of distinct pain: clean pain, and dirty pain. Clean pain is the original discomfort we feel in response to a problem, a situation, or a biological event. Clean pain may be uncomfortable but is normal, natural and healthy.

When we needlessly struggle to control, eliminate or avoid clean pain, we transform that pain into dirty pain. Dirty pain is comprised of our judgements, evaluations, and interpretations - our reactions to clean pain.

Buddha spoke of the experience of pain by saying that pain is like two darts (or arrows). The first arrow is the inevitable pain, and the second arrow is what we do in reaction to the first pain, which often leads to attachment to some kind of unhealthy gratification.

Meditation (and Mindfulness) is getting between the first and the second arrow. Trying to get out of pain and not turn toward the second arrow is parallel to clean pain and dirty pain.

The two weeks following Dukes passing has been a huge practice in feeling/emotion. The teaching of the two arrows and clean/dirty pain has been really invaluable. I've noticed outside of my sitting meditation practice when I'm attaching to thoughts of "what if" and "if only". This is the second arrow or dirty pain hitting.

I've certainly let go more easily of the pain/sadness thanks to my daily meditation practice and contemplation of the teachings.

I've also felt a peaceful happiness when I'm caught in memories of Duke - maybe this is clinging to pleasure/gratification and happiness in a way, but memories are coming and fading away easily and I just watch them.

I've been sitting with any pain and emotion when the tears have come. I'm working to accept the pain/sadness/happy memories as the things that they are. I watch the feelings, feel them in my body and then watch them fade.


I've also been aware of I, me and mine. "I'm" feeling sad, "I" wish etc. I'm trying to dissolve that a little so that it doesn't cycle around as much and feed that second arrow, I accept the feeling of sadness and pain of grief.


Interestingly my formal sitting practice has not been distracted by thoughts of Duke, as much as I thought it might. Just once or twice. I don't think it's avoidance, or pushing it away, in fact I think it is the opposite. A sad acceptance of what has happened and that how I feel day to day is fine and natural means it's not preoccupying my thoughts.


I do feel that my meditation practice has helped bring warmth and clarity to my grief, memories are clear and comforting.


I came to this quote often, from Michael's book The Inner Tradition of Yoga (p196):

"Often when we hear the word acceptance, we think of surrender or sacrifice. But nothing is unacceptable and so we are not giving up. Even the greatest suffering in the world or the strongest currents of pain within can be accepted. Acceptance doesn't mean liking something or agreeing with it. Rather it is allowing something to be, not shutting it out. Yoga is the practice of allowing things to be as they are without turning away from any part. If I am in a situation I can't bear, then it is the unbearable that is to be accepted.'


I know that over time we will become more used to not having Duke around. I don't know if time is a healer, but I know that meditation has helped me be present to the emotions as they come, to accept that emotion and pain is there, to not avoid them or push them away, and to know that they will subside. Everything arises and falls away, sometimes sooner, sometimes later.


My love and thanks go to Duke for being such an amazing member of our family. He brought fun and adventure as we went regularly walking with him as a family. He accepted our second rescue dog Bracken without fuss. He brought boundless love - I spent the evening before I went into labour with our oldest son Max stroking him and I'm sure the oxytocin kicked in from that love. His warmth and cuddles extended to both our boys as they arrived in his life, for a while he'd climb on Callum's bed to sleep. He brought an intelligence that meant he could easily learn tricks, and a personality that reduced us to tears of laughter as he howled at the rooster on Peppa Pig or the dog in Family guy (even though it was a biped talking cartoon dog he seemed to know it was a dog in his living room!). He loved being outdoors in the garden and was truly happy out in nature. Much to inspire us, make us smile and remind us to love unconditionally.