Thursday, September 17th, 2009...11:53 am
What condolence tweets about my dog’s death taught me about social media
My dog, Seeya, on her last day, flanked by my kids.
I’m going to depart a bit from my normal rants on journalism today to share a bit of a person story that relates to how social media does — I believe — have the power to help people connect. I’m bringing this up because I know some people doubt that a sense of community can develop through tools like Facebook or Twitter, and, of course, anyone has a right to doubt whatever they wish. However, a recent experience in my life confirmed for me that a sense of connection with other people is possible through social media. (Although, I agree with the many who say that the term “community” is probably overstating the connection and getting a bit overused.)
This post is about my dog, Seeya, who died yesterday. But it’s also about social media and how oddly enough it can help us find a sense of humanity. I’m writing it here because I truly believe that my experience can help others see the value of social media. Plus, I just want a place to pay tribute to my dog.
Here goes …
Fifteen years ago, the man who I ended up marrying bought a dog, a miniature Schnauzer, and named her Seeya (As in “Seeya, later, which what he frequently said to this dog when he left the house.) Peter and I weren’t even dating yet, but we were friends and co-workers. I remember Seeya as a tiny ball of fur small enough to fit in my hand. Anyway, Peter and I married, had two kids, and Seeya stayed with us.
She was fine until about two years ago, when it was clear she had lost her hearing, couldn’t see well and was having trouble getting around because (we later found out) she had severe arthritis. Her weight began to drop rather rapidly, and she was having frequent accidents in the house, which the vet suspected were due to growing dementia. We turned our sun porch over to Seeya, and this summer things got much worse rather quickly. About a month ago, she started to smell so badly we could hardly stand it. Frequent baths, a haircut, breath-cleaning dog biscuits didn’t help. My husband and I discussed whether it was time for Seeya to be put to sleep.
So we took her to the vet.
It turned out that in addition to her many age-related ailments she had mouth cancer. I learned this in a hurried cell phone conversation from my husband when I was between classes. It made me cry, a response that surprised me because I thought I was ready for her death. I didn’t have a free moment to call a friend or talk to anyone.
But I did have a computer, so being the social media junkie that I am, I tweeted the fact that my dog had cancer and would be put to sleep the next day. Potentially, that reached my 3,000-plus followers.
The most unusual thing happened. People reached out (through @replies and direct messages) to offer their condolences. What’s notable is: All but one of the 16 people who reached out on Twitter are people I actually know.
Actual friend (or relatives) used more personal means to reach out. My mom, for example, called my cell. My brother sent me an e-mail. Friends who saw me in person offered kind words or a hug. Real friends who read my tweet, which updates my Facebook status update, offers kinds words there.
You kind of expect your friends and family to be there when you’re hurting. It was more surprising to me that people I have never met, who may live across the country or the world, took the time to reach out in a very human way on this computer-mediated platform. Now certainly 16 is but a small sliver of my followers, but who knows how many were offline, sleeping, not reading my tweets or doing a million other things at that very moment when I tweeted. Given that, I think 16 is a remarkable response to one person’s plea of sorrow.
In this busy world, where we as the human race sometimes seem so very disconnected, I think it’s significant any time we get that feeling that another human being gets us.
So to those who reached out, I say thank you.
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I'm Gina Chen, a 20-year veteran newspaper journalist who is studying for a communications Ph.D. I want to see journalism survive. I believe news organizations need to embrace new media, change their thinking, improve their content and innovate. Read more about me 
6 Comments
September 18th, 2009 at 1:22 pm
Hi Gina,
I’m so sorry to hear about your Seeya. I can really relate because we lost Kiks (pronounced keeks), our yorkie-shihtzu in January.
I wish we had recognized the signs earlier on. We have 3 other little ones at home and one was a pup. So we thought the the little accidents that happened in the middle of the night last year was from the puppy.
As it turned out it was from our Kiks.
The first sign was her right eye all of a sudden was red… not the whites, but the iris part of it. There was blood there, but the doctors couldn’t figure out why.
Soon after, she started having accidents all the time, and she began losing weight. The vet said she was having kidney failure and that the outlook wasn’t good.
After doing x-rays, it showed she had tumors in her chest… the doctor’s prognosis wasn’t good.
All of this was especially upsetting because every year we would do the “senior wellness” panels and exams, which revealed nothing out of the ordinary. We thought we were doing everything “right.” Her x-rays the year before were fine. So it was really disconcerting (not to mention extremely frustrating) to see how many tumors she had in her chest only a year later.
I tried everything to get her health back but 4 weeks later, she passed away in my arms at home with us.
I wanted to write to say “thank you” for your article and for creating a place where I can share about Kiks, whom we loved dearly.. It’s so true, what you arote about social media and “how oddly enough it can help us find a sense of humanity.”
So many Facebook friends reached out to me when they saw my post about taking Kiks to the vet the first time for the blood in her eye. I got emails or posts on my wall from all over the world. So many emotions were going through me when our dog was sick… fear, panic, anger, frustration, grief…
Towards the end, Kiks was so dehydrated, she needed to stay at the vet for a few days so she could have an IV attached. After 4 days, the vet said she couldn’t do anymore for her and so she taught me how to give her an IV at hom.
I work out of home and my boyfriend works during the week, so I was the one caring for Kiks during the day. My boyfriend sometimes can’t talk on the phone at work… and sometimes my friends weren’t available by phone. So I can’t tell you how nice it was to be able to connect with another human being who understood what I was going through — even if I didn’t “know” them personally and even if they were halfway around the world. Just to have another human being there who understood my situation made me feel better in that moment.
After Kiks passed away, I kind of shut down for awhile. I didn’t tell anyone she passed away for months. I just stopped mentioning her in my posts. So thank you for having this space here where I can finally talk about it. It still brings tears to my eyes as I think about that time – wondering “was there something I did wrong,” “was there something more I could’ve done?” WHY didn’t I see the signs sooner?”
And I know that sometimes, you just can’t help when someone you love passes away…because it just might be their time.
Thanks for sharing your experience with me. I really enjoyed reading your article.
Alexi
September 18th, 2009 at 1:27 pm
Oops. Forgot to check the box to notify me of comments via email earlier. So I’m writing this now.
September 19th, 2009 at 10:14 am
Alexi,
Thanks so much for sharing. I’m very sorry about Kiks and for all the pain you went through.
What you describe is very similar to what we went through. We had two “senior panels” done on Seeya, and they both yielded nothing. But she just kept losing weight, which is always a sign of something.
My sister, who is a nurse for a vet, explained to me that the senior panel doesn’t really check everything — just sort of the baseline. I guess they don’t do quite the amount of testing for animals that they do for people.
But I share your frustration of being told everything checks out, but knowing something is wrong. The sounds odd but I’m almost glad that the mouth cancer started to smell because that led to a diagnosis, and, therefore, and explanation for everything that was happening.
I agree with you, too, about having someone to share with is important. Honestly, social media is great for that because you can reach people who really share your passion for animals, and you can reach them any time, day or night.
Good luck to you!
Gina
November 7th, 2009 at 4:24 pm
It’s very sad what happened. I personally own 2 cats and when one of them fell of the balcony from the 4th floor I leaved my work just to get her to a vet and I went to her to the vet for a week. Now it’s everything fine and we hope she will not do it again. Anyway, we have to keep in mind that one day they will be gone because this is the cycle of life.
January 2nd, 2010 at 6:47 pm
Hi
Thanks for your heart warming story, I sure that everyone reading it can identify with your pain. This is an excellent blog, but have you thought of starting a new one with your story and get others to contribute with theirs and perhaps add a photo or two in memory to their beloved pet?
January 13th, 2010 at 2:45 am
Oh.. it is a touching story indeed. Well, sometimes on twitter you can get better friends than in the real life. I like the way you write, I am following you on twitter rightaway!
take care..
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