Personal Essay on Matches

8/2/2019 Personal Essay on Matches

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Courchaine 2

Matthew Courchaine

Ms. Girasole

The Fourth Genre Honors – Level 2

23 February 2012

The Hard Way

I think it’s fair to say that most, if not all, people have experienced a sort of emotional

turning point in his or her life. This event, for me, was something that I knew was

inevitable, the pain from it unavoidable, and something I could only learn the hard way.

One could assume that this turning point could be the death of a family member or a close

friend, and yet this was not my situation. It was a death, however, one of a different kind of

family member: a pet.

I realize the number of people who own a pet, let alone several, is significantly lower than

the number of those who don’t. Therefore, the majority of people one meets do not know

what it feels like to lose a pet. This means one does not have many people to go to when a

tragedy such as this happens to them. As this animal is both a family member and a close

friend, losing him or her would cause a great deal of emotional pain, maybe even mental

trauma. I experienced this with my dog, Matches, and the emotional pain coming from his

death instilled in me the belief that there are some things one can only learn the hard way.

My family purchased Matches in 2003, when my mother, my brother, and I moved to Rhode

Island. I remember going to the Rumford Pet Center, and wanting him the minute I saw

him. Only four months old, he was just a puppy.

From that moment on our family was able to create so many memories with him: when hewas still a puppy we left to go to Mystic Aquarium for a day and when we got home we

couldn’t find him, and after a half hour of looking (which included going to almost every

house on the street), we found him inside my mother’s towel cabinet, he having managed to

find a way inside and accidentally getting himself trapped.



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In early 2005, my younger brother, Andrew, fell on him. This gave him a concussion, which

necessitated a visit to the vet where Matches tried to pee on my foot in a moment of

disorientation.

In 2007 he bit me, and when I went to the nurse’s office at school the next day for a band -

aid I accidentally let it slip that it was the result of a dog bite. This prompted the nurse to

report Matches to Animal Control, leading to them to essentially put him under house

arrest for two weeks.

When I was in seventh grade we went for a walk with our other dog, Sealy. Matches

followed us and became lost. One of our neighbors found him while she was driving home

and drove him back to our house. I could go on forever telling stories about Matches, but

that would require an entire book.

Matches was an amazing dog, and had to have been the smartest I had ever owned. There

were so many little things that he did to support this. For example, he was scratching at his

empty food bowl one night and I must have said “Matches, stop, there’s nothing left!” at

least ten times. When I lifted up the food bowl, however, there was a single piece of kibble,

Matches somehow knowing that.

However, I knew he could not be with us forever, yet I never dared to think of this reality

during my years with him.

In June 2010, Matches began to show signs of a sickness: he yelped when we would pick

him up; going to the bathroom caused him pain, and there was some blood; he was

constantly fatigued. When my brother and I were at our father’s house in Massachusetts forthe weekend, my mother and stepfather brought Matches to the vet. The problem was

revealed: Matches had kidney stones. From then on Matches had to eat prescription dog

food, he had to take a pill with every meal, among other things. As it progressed, the

veterinarian informed my parents that surgery on the kidney stones would only make them



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go away for a short period of time, and they would most likely come back worse than

before. Thinking of what my family could do caused me an immense amount of stress.

In early August, my parents made the decision that Matches would have to be put to sleep –

none of us wanted to prolong his suffering, even if that suffering would go away for very

short periods of time. I was broken – Matches was easily one of my best friends. On August

10th we brought him to the vet, in Seekonk. I remember the day vividly. At first neither my

brother nor I wanted to go, as we were both very attached to him and couldn’t bear to see

it. Eventually, however, we both realized that not only did Matches need us to be there, but

we needed to be there – we would not be giving him the proper goodbye if we weren’t .

I remember us stopping at the McDonald’s in Seekonk, where we got a cheeseburger for

Matches – my brother and I each gave him half.

I had a great deal of difficulty holding back my tears on the way to the vet. Upon arrival at

the veterinary office I was close to full-on hyperventilation, and could barely contain myself

as I passed through the crowded lobby. Though the day was easily becoming the worst of

my life, it was nothing compared to the events that had yet to unfold.

I still remember the moment the veterinary assistant gave Matches the first shot, the

sedative. For a moment, he continued to stand, with my mother, my stepfather, my brother,

and I crying as we held and comforted him.

Then, all of sudden, he collapsed, his legs giving out as the sedative took effect. The

assistant gave him a second shot, which I knew was the one.

What really caused me to break down during those few minutes, however, was how

Matches still had the energy to lick all of us first.

After a minute he turned on his side, and with that, his eyes slowly closed. I can still hear

the vet saying “I’m sorry… he’s gone.” Needless to say, my entire family was sobbing at that



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point, the loud, relentless kind. The vet offered us a box to carry him out in. We refused –

none of us wanted that. My mother carried him out in one of his blankets that we had

brought with us.

I left the building as fast as I possibly could, not wanting to the people in the lobby to see

me crying. I was almost completely blinded by tears as I left the veterinary office, as well as

on the way home.

I had lost one of the best, smartest dogs I had ever owned, as well as one of my few best

friends in life. I was heartbroken, and that day will live with me forever.

That day marked the beginning of the first real period of depression in my life. It lasted for

several months, until at least late January. I cried more during that period of my life than I

had in all the years prior combined. I tried my hardest to keep it concealed at school,

knowing a very small amount of people who owned pets and had experienced what I had

the loss of one. I feel as though I came out of this depression a changed person. I had

experienced true loss of someone very close to me, something that had never happened to

me before.

Reflecting on this day has made me realize several things, most prominently that the

amount of people who can’t identify with the loss of a pet is far greater than those who can.

While the vet and her assistants showed sadness during the entire ordeal, I could never see

a true empathetic link in any of their eyes. This observation was supplemented by a letter

we received from them several weeks later, saying “he obviously meant much mor e to you

than we realized.” While vague, the letter implied that it was something they say rarely, if at

all. Given, it’s a depressing part of their job, but a part of their job nonetheless , andtherefore they must be professional about it. In addition, I now see how sometimes the

littlest things in life can change you forever. There will be times when you wish you could

go back to how things used to be, but you just can't because things have changed so much.



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I am ashamed to say that while I had had deaths in my family before Matches, my great-

grandmother and my great-aunt, I had never truly understood or felt the neither the cold

loss nor the feeling of utter emptiness that accompanied the death of a loved one. But I now

realize how happy I am that I was able to be with Matches in his final minutes – I know in

my heart he wanted me there. Simply put, it was a horrible, yet revealing, emotional

turning point.

I believe that there are some things in life that one can only learn the hard way, and these,

unfortunately and depressingly, are inescapable and inevitable.

However, Matches’ death, while enormously depressing, did have some positive effects on

me. Most prominently, we adopted another dog, who we named Tidbit, from the pound in

the September after. Tidbit was abused by his previous owners, and was picked up by the

Cranston Animal Control after he either ran away or was abandoned. My mother visited the

Cranston Pound and saw him, and wanted to get him. Two weeks later, Tidbit belonged to

my family.

When I look back, I am extremely happy that my family adopted Tidbit – he apparently had

been subject to more abuse than I had realized. I was taking him and Sealy for a walk one

day, I raised my hand (I don’t quite remember why), and Tidbit crouched down and closed

his eyes, as if I was about to hit him. I then knew, though Matches’ being put to sleep was a

horrible point in my life, that had Matches never developed the kidney stones, this innocent

dog would have spent the rest of his life in a pound. Or, God forbid, his old family might find

him and take him back, leading to more abuse.

In addition, Matches’ passing left me with an ability to identify with people who had lost aloved one. I would happily help anyone I knew that lost a pet get through those difficult

times.

I cannot and could never say that Matches death was a good thing in my life. It left me

heartbroken, and I feel as though adopting Tidbit was the only thing that shortened my



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depression to only January. I can say, however, that his death left me with a fantastic,

smart, and lovable dog named Tidbit, I still have Sealy (who seems to act more and more

like Matches every day), and an ability to help people who have experienced such a loss.

It could be said that Tidbit learned the hard way that not every family that purchases or

adopts you will love you unconditionally. He was given a second chance to receive that love

when we adopted him. Ironically, however, Tidbit’s learning the hard way went almost

hand-in-hand with my learning the hard way, in that sense.

There are some things that you can only learn the hard way. This I believe.

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Personal Essay on Matches