The Weight of A Name: Ginger

Eulogy

"Our Ginger. Lovely Ginger. You always brought laughter to our whole family, and now that we are sending Ginger off, my heart aches so much.

If Ginger is reborn, he will surely be born as a cool person. A cool and handsome young man, getting married and living a fun life. And live happily while raising a dog just like you.

I love you, our Ginger. Thank you so much. Goodbye, our Ginger!"

—

And I wanted to write Ginger's story by myself. But I believe my wife's story about Ginger, which she published in Brunch Korea (https://brunch.co.kr/@mamakim/36) in 2018, is a masterpiece, and I don't want to ruin it. So, I just translated it into English here.

Fifteen Years with Ginger, and After

I knew this would happen. It was a hardship I brought on myself for the sake of my children, even though I knew how it would end. Even though I could see clearly into a future where I'd be hurting deeply from grief, I fearlessly brought home a small ball of fur. And I gave it love and poured my heart into it. For a full fifteen years!

I acted too quickly. I am loud on the outside but soft on the inside, and I got attached to something fragile and pretty—so today's outcome was already predictable. But what parent can resist their children's wishes? With my two kids wanting a puppy so badly, how could I possibly ignore their small wish(which, to me, was a huge responsibility)?

I remember the day fifteen years ago clearly—the day we went to find a breeder. The place was cluttered and shabby, but full of puppies so pretty and lovable they didn't match their surroundings at all. My husband and I looked around for a white puppy. Since the kids wanted a white dog and had already picked out the grammatically odd name "Snowy," whichever puppy came home with us absolutely had to have white fur. But then one puppy came to me...beige fur, eyes like little beads, and a shiny black nose—he reminded me of the teddy bears I love.

And on top of that, such an affectionate, sociable little personality! I fell for him at first sight, and completely forgot that the kids wanted a white dog; I scooped him right up. Even now, thinking of the little heartbeat pattering away in my arms when I held him, my chest fills with emotion—and to think fifteen years have already passed since then...

A ginger-colored ball of fur that drifted gently into our family's life! We decided to call him Ginger. Technically, "Ginger" is a woman's name in English, but since that was the image the kids had the moment they saw him, we decided to stick with it.

Ginger Baker, the drummer from Cream, was a man too, so what did it matter? Because of his pretty face and the name Ginger, he was often mistaken for a female dog, but we were happy with the name. It has no harsh plosive sounds, just a soft one—and we thought it suited Ginger perfectly, since his fur was especially soft.

But now I deeply regret choosing that name. Ginger is a word I run into constantly, since I love cooking and am always searching for recipes. And living in Canada, someone who's forever popping into the produce section—how could I possibly avoid the word "ginger"? A few days ago, on my way out of grocery shopping, five letters printed on my receipt caught my eye. G-I-N-G-E-R! Unable to hold back the tears that suddenly welled up, I rushed to my parked car and cried.

It was only after Ginger was gone that I understood: you shouldn't name a dog carelessly. While he was alive, I called that name countless times without a second thought—but now that he is gone, the name pops up everywhere I go. I find myself thinking, belatedly, what if we had chosen a rare proper noun for his name? If we had, I wouldn't have to face this quiet heartache every time I look at a simple grocery receipt.

People say fifteen years is a long life for a dog. But at ten, Ginger had the strong heart of a five-year-old, and even at fifteen, he was healthy enough to walk for an hour a day. Because he lived such a healthy life, my husband and I had resigned ourselves to not even dreaming of travel for years to come, and had already planned that only one of us would go to our daughter's graduation next year—since you can't very well leave an elderly dog who needs to go out to pee at three in the morning with someone else.

And yet he left us so suddenly. Given how sharp and perceptive he'd become after all those years of emotional connection with us, I can't help wondering—did he rush to leave this world for our sake?

The kids will be home soon. They'd been so excited about spending Christmas with Ginger, and now they've been hit with grief like a bolt of lightning. Our house is about to be swept by another storm of tears. But I've decided not to hold back my sadness. For now, I want to let my emotions carry me wherever they go. Right now, the beautiful time I spent with Ginger is trapped inside pain—but I will miss him until the day comes when I can remember it all with a smile.

On the day we meet again, Ginger will come bounding across the rainbow bridge to greet us. Until that day, stay healthy and happy, and run and play to your heart's content---