Relationships
Those We Love Are Only Ever on Loan to Us
Personal Perspective: Loss teaches us how to love and grieve.
Updated June 10, 2026 Reviewed by Kaja Perina
Key points
- Our greatest loves can only ever be temporary because that's the rhythm of life.
- A great part of those whom we have loved and lost remains with us.
As I write this, my beloved dog, Clooney, is sleeping on the couch. I listen to his gentle snoring and I find myself transported from the agonizing grief I feel. A trip to the emergency vet delivered the news no one ever wants: Clooney has cancer.
I am absolutely gutted with grief. He and I have been constant companions for more than 13 years. We have developed a rhythm of life we both love and that has opened a wider world to us. And soon we will be parted and I will be the author of when and how we say goodbye. It is something I must do because I owe him the best.
I remind myself that Clooney was never truly mine; he was gift on loan from the universe. He was never mine to keep permanently. That would be against the natural order of things. We are most miserable when we try to circumvent life’s processes and rhythms. Substitute “pet” for “son” or “friend,” in this quotation from Epictetus (50-138 CE) who makes the point beautifully:
What you love is nothing of your own: it has been given to you for the present, not that it should not be taken from you, nor has it been given to you for all time, but as a fig is given to you or a bunch of grapes at the appointed season of the year. But if you wish for these things in winter, you are a fool. So if you wish for your son or friend when it is not allowed to you, you must know that you are wishing for a fig in winter.
The last thing my father said to me before he slipped into his final coma was, “I had a hell of a ride.” In that sentence was my father’s recognition that everything comes to an end. Our joys, pleasures, ills, and pains all have their seasons. At his end, he was grateful for his ride, absent of all regret, and at peace with who he was and how he shaped his life. He wouldn’t wish for a fig in winter (well, he wouldn’t wish for a fig in any season, actually).
Clooney, according to my friends, would say the same thing about his life. It has been a hell of a ride with daily walkies, trips in the car, and barking at any and all creatures he saw while riding in his elevated car seat. Small child being pushed in a stroller? Bark bark hello. Another dog sitting on her front stoop? Bark bark the nerve of you. Let’s not even get started on cats. Yes, Clooney has had a hell of a ride with me either driving or riding in the sidecar with him.
What, exactly, am I grieving? Right now I am grieving that his quality of life is declining at an accelerated rate. He doesn’t love his treat toys filled with kibble as much. The shine has gone off the massive block of Velveeta that I used to hide his pills. Walks are shorter but sniffing is still just as vigorous. I can’t wish for more when it is not allowed to me.
Part of me is grieving all the adventures that we will no longer share. But here I need to give myself a big shake and heed the wisdom of Seneca (4 BCE- 65 CE) who wrote
Has it then all been for nothing that you have had such a friend? During so many years, amid such close associations, after such intimate communion of personal interests, has nothing been accomplished? Do you bury friendship along with a friend? And why lament having lost him, if it be of no avail to have possessed him? Believe me, a great part of those we have loved, though chance has removed their persons, still abides with us. The past is ours, and there is nothing more secure for us than that which has been.
My past with Clooney is bursting with love, fun, and tenderness. That will never change. Clooney taught me to be more present in the moment even when that moment involved his sticking his head in a hole searching for a vole or my sticking my hand in his mouth to remove that same vole. That won’t change either. I may bury him but I will always carry him.
Clooney made my heart bigger and more capacious than I ever could have imagined. It feels as if it is breaking into a thousand Clooney-shaped pieces, but I know memories of him will help me to put it back together bigger and stronger than ever.
When it is time, run free, my little fur tyrant. I appreciate the time we’ve had and I will cherish you forever. You are my heart.
Afterword: Pathology report confirmed Clooney had hemangiosarcoma, a malignant and aggressive cancer of the blood vessels. Not wanting one of those tumors to burst, I said goodbye to him as my last loving act. I'm trying my best, Epictetus and Seneca, but it's not easy.
