I lost my best friend. He was a little black and white Rat Terrier that I fell in love with over 16 years ago when I didn’t even want a dog. I always told him that I never expected to like him, let alone love him, reminding him every day that he stole my heart the very first night we brought him home.
A few weeks ago, I pitched an idea to my editor. How about all of us who contribute to the site write about our favorite things in the neighborhood? I was not sure what mine would be and ran the idea through my mind several times but kept coming up empty. But now I know. It was him. And I can’t imagine living on this side of the city without him.
Let me tell you about how perfect he was. His name was Esme “E” Dracula. We usually called him E, Dracula, or any number of pet names that must’ve grown into the hundreds as the years went on. He was the sweetest, most stubborn, funny, and loving little guy whose days centered around his favorite things: food, sleep, treats, and us. And sometimes walks around his neighborhood, the Upper West Side.
He moved to this area of the city when he was seven. We lived on West 71st and Broadway in an apartment that was truly our own. He loved going out to people watch and especially loved the walking adventures he and I went on all over Central Park for hours, nearly every day for probably eight months or so. Work got busy so the daily hikes got scaled back. But he still loved going out every day exploring the sidewalk near the old Tasty Café, excited to find a bit of a forbidden treasure, hopeful that I would not see it first and take it away before he could get it in his mouth.
We moved near Waterline Square a couple years later and stayed there for five years. He watched the new construction go up all around us, including the Collegiate School at West 61st and Freedom Place and all the new buildings along West End Avenue. He spent most days in Riverside Park South, its dog park, and the park across from West End Towers on West 63rd.
He cried while we were waiting for our cab when we moved to Brooklyn, the only reason for the move being so that I could cut my hour and a half long commute in half and get home to him sooner.
He got sick when we were in Brooklyn. He got so sick that he could no longer stay home alone and had to go to doggie daycare for the first time in his life, an incredibly difficult thing to do for a little man who never wanted to associate with other dogs or anyone else but us. An incredibly difficult thing for a little guy who was used to being independent and didn’t like strangers touching him.
We moved back to the Upper West Side for him after a little over a year. His daycare was two blocks away and his vet – his wonderful, amazing vet that we owe so much of our time with him to – was even closer. He loved being back home. When he left the neighborhood, it was a construction zone. And then it was finished when he came back in February 2020 and he could not have been happier.
He was back where he belonged, and he knew it. He loved his old hangouts and parks, but he really enjoyed the new park at Waterline Square. He chose the path of our walks and almost every time, we ended up there.
But the walks were getting to be more of a challenge for him in the last year or so. He was getting older and walking for hours like he used to was hard for him. His little legs, stiff from arthritis on the back right, made it difficult for him. But he tried.
He was getting older. Nora Ephron, writing about life in her sixties, said that death felt like a sniper. She discussed losing her best friend and compared it to losing a phantom limb. This excruciating loss feels like that.
We knew reality would catch up with us, but we didn’t feel like it would just strike us out of nowhere. You can’t live a dream forever and we’re lucky enough to have lived one for over 16 years. But now he is gone and we are lost. Everywhere we look in this house, it’s him. His pictures are everywhere. His food. His treats. His blankets. This whole house is him.
We look outside and see the streets he loved to walk. We see the park behind his house along Freedom Place. We see the slight hill he used to tackle just outside that park on West 62nd heading towards the water. All of it an unbearably painful reminder of the love ripped from our lives.
And the two of us left behind just sit here for the last 24 or so hours, staring blankly mostly. The dull drone of the TV broken by memories of how incredible he was, how good we had it, how lucky we were to hit the puppy jackpot. We can’t keep our eyes dry, especially when we question what else we could have done to make his life better … or easier.
Right before he turned five years old, he had cancer. He had surgery to remove it and, sadly, he spent his big fifth birthday feeling very sick. But he bounced back, enjoyed a brand-new cake about a week later and stayed cancer free for almost ten years. In between, he had a really tough surgery to remove kidney stones before his big second and terrifying cancer removal surgery. As usual, he persevered and was brave in a way that I can’t even fathom.
But this last week was just awful. It was too much for him. But like E always did, he fought. He tried so hard to feel better, but life is so cruel sometimes. A sniper.
I cannot even think about going outside right now. It will all be him. This whole neighborhood is him. He was undoubtedly my favorite part of this neighborhood. He was my favorite part of everything and everywhere. But this area was his home for most of his life.
His parks, his pet store, his favorite routes. That time on Broadway and 71st when a total stranger walked by and told him that he was “the coolest dog ever.” That time he climbed up the makeshift stairs for a floral display outside the deli on 64th and West End. Patiently waiting outside Magnolia. Going up to Shake Shack to get him a Pooch-ini or letting him pick out what he wanted at the now-closed Unleashed by Petco on Columbus and 68th. All those times we walked around the Christmas Tree shop on 60th and West End, scoping out the perfect tree for him and enjoying the holiday atmosphere. All the times we simply went outside and just enjoyed being together in our beloved neighborhood.
I am the dog mom in those memes that had dog birthday parties, the same dog mom who stayed in to spend as much time with him as I could instead of literally almost any other activity if he could not join me.
So now what? What do you do when you lose your shadow, your best friend, the best thing about every day? I’m seriously asking.
We lost a beloved 18yo kitty a year and a half ago. She was so sick in her last few days..couldn’t eat or use the litter box. Our wonderful vet told us when she can’t be a cat any more you will know and it will be time. It was heart wrenching…I still see her sweet soft eyes and hear her silent meows..I still look for her when we come into our apt…I talk to her when I clean her favorite spots. But the memories become part of a sweet ethereal presence that pushes the tears away. May you be blessed with the relief of time’s passing??
This is so heartbreaking and so relatable for anyone who’s had a pet. So touching. <3
You were so fortunate to have found each other and to have spent so many years together.
WOW…losing a four legged family member is the worst. I have lost three of them and the last one was by far the worse cause he died in my arms. I feel your pain. One thing I will say, E will always be with you. My sincerest and deepest condolences once again.
We just lost our scrappy Jack in February. Every day is a reminder and it hurts so bad. But the best thing you can do is rescue a new little buddy when you’re ready to make new adventures with and give the chance to be loved just as much.
I had to help my dog Buddy to cross the bridge on 8/5. Almost 16 yr. old shih tzu. My heart dog. I miss him so much.
What a beautiful story. I lost my beloved Argus, my pit, almost 11 years ago and not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. I got a memorial tattoo on my arm last year for him. After I lost him, I got my little Gracie. She was a beautiful grey and white chihuahua. She was a rescue from a hoarder and had a lot of issues but I think Argus sent her to me because he knew I needed a little one to pour my broken heart into. When I lost Gracie, in October 2019, just 2 weeks after losing my father, I started looking at Petfinder. The search took me to Animal Haven. They had just gotten several chihuahuas and there were no pictures. I knew that 2 -year old Mindy was the one for me, even though I had no idea what she looked like. It was late on a Sunday afternoon and I was going to wait till Tuesday to go see her. Something (Argus and Gracie I think) pulled me off the couch and to Animal Haven. When I walked into the enclosure area, this little fawn-colored pup was at the glass and stared at me. That was Mindy. She is on the couch next to me as I write this. Her name is Lulu now and she is the most precious, sweet little girl ever. She proved to me that the saying “you don’t get the dog you want, you get the dog you need” is true. I know E will send you a new little friend when he feels you are ready. Be kind to yourself and cherish the wonderful memories.
So sorry for the loss of your little Esme. Such a sweet, beautiful face he had. There is nothing more precious than the unconditional love we receive from our pets. Esme was very lucky to have been blessed with such a caring, giving owner. Always cherish & remember your special bond.
What do I do? I rescue; I foster. It’s all that’s kept me from insanity these years. I’m not big on people but animals are my world. When I lose a best friend that can never be replaced, and have a hole in my life that seems unfixable, I go to the shelter or local rescue and I pick the animal that’s been there the longest, or is the sickest, oldest, or ugliest. And I give them the love and home I wish I could give to the one I lost. And it means something.
I have fostered, provided hospice care and adopted more animals than I can count over the years, and it makes me feel like I did something good in honor of the ones I’ve lost. Sometimes it was the literally the only way to keep myself moving. It feels like it’s something that everyone would want, human or animal, for their life to have meant so much to someone that they only way to survive their loss was force yourself to go on for some other lonely soul languishing in pain, perhaps about to die, feeling unwanted and unloved. A pet that never had what yours did.
It doesn’t fill the hole left by your best buddy, but it does make a difference to that animal. And I feel like my deceased pet would be so very proud of what I did in their name, saving someone else in their memory. If you can, foster or adopt. There are so many pets who have never known the love you have to give, and who would benefit from your warm heart the way you’ll benefit from helping them.
Thinking of you during this very tough time.
You have rendered the pain of what the loss of a pet feels like beautifully. (Forget those who dare think, “It’s only a dog.” Any of us who have lost a pet know the rawness of your pain right now. ) There is is no easy way to get through the next few weeks, but I will offer one small comfort for down the road: When our first dog died, my refrain was, “There will never be another Willie.” Then Edna arrived, and I said and felt the exact same way at the end of her life. Now we have Frankie and I am already thinking (prematurely) , “There will never be another Frankie.” Esme had the sweetest face and was clearly loved beyond measure. I hope that another dog will one day be lucky enough to receive the care and love you showed little E., who will always be in your heart and memories.
I feel for you. I lost my cat 3 years ago and I can still tear up at the drop of a hat. Truly! There’s nothing like the loss of a beloved pet, who is so much more than a pet. Here’s my advice (since you seem to be asking): Don’t push the grief away. It’s normal. Life is full of changes and loss, and it’s better to feel these things (as you seem to be doing) than denying the pain. In time, you will manage the pain. It will still be there, but you will learn to manage it. Your dog is all around you. Feel E’s energy near you. You were lucky to have found each other. You were lucky to have had the opportunity to love another being so much. In time, you’ll be able to let the joy back in. Good luck! CJ
I lost a soul-cat of 16 years almost eight years ago and am only now possibly considering another fur family member. When there is a soul connection there just is and that’s that.
In my opinion, everyone in NYC owes all the pets our deepest gratitude. They are the glue that keeps our city centered.
Thank you, Esme. ??
I was moved to tears reading about dear, sweet Esme, and the boundless everyday joys he brought you in your life together. My heart goes out to you as you grapple with the deep, abiding pain of losing him, and I must thank you for finding the strength to share this touching remembrance in the face of the pain, which struck a particular chord with me since I too have felt bereft since my wonderful, spirited cat and incomparable friend Ollie died at fourteen several months ago, after struggling so incredibly hard against a debilitating illness. That acute, aching sense of emptiness at every turn at home, and throughout the course of the day, is so familiar and can be nearly overwhelming, but I found some comfort and release in your wholehearted tribute to Esme and expression of love and loss.
this is grief at its purest: no unfinished business, no recriminations, pure, unadulterated loss, to be cherished in its own way
RIP E! xoxo
??Jammie
I lost my baby girl a rat terrier too two easter’s ago. She was my world I was so lost without her it still feels like yesterday it still feels like a dream. You never know how good you have it till it’s gone. Losing her is like losing a child