Don't Kill the Dog

Wow, I'm making up for my days off by giving you enough posts for all of them.

 

Anyway, Diana Peterfreund had a very interesting blog post today:  Don't Kill the Dog

 

The comment string is where it gets most interesting.  Seems most people genuinely don't like the death of animals in books, and several mentioned the death of a child as even worse.

 

The two comments I left are telling.  'Cause, well, there's a dead dog and a dead mother and child in my book.

 

From One Highland Night (c) 2007

 

The keening wail of a child brought his head back around, and his eyes found young Geordie huddled on the ground next to the body of a dog, its black and white fur stained red with blood.

"Oh, no…" Her voice was quiet behind him, full of sympathy.

"Geordie, lad," he said. "What has happened here?"

"They…they shot him!" Geordie wailed between sobs. "They shot Aodhair!"

"Who?"

"The…Campbell…bastards!"

He swore violently. The lad continued to greet, and he gripped his shoulders. "Are they still here, in the glen? Are they in the village? Tell me, lad, and quickly!" His voice was harsher than he meant, but he had to know. A hiss of indrawn breath behind him indicated the lass's disapproval.

"N-nae…I dinna think so." The boy looked down, stroking the top of the still head between the ears. "He was a good dog, was Aodhair. Why did they have to shoot him?"

He gentled his voice, despite the tension thrumming in his veins. "Because they are Campbells, and bastards as ye said, aye? I ken it doesna make it easier to bear, but ye must listen—listen to me now, lad. It isna safe here. There are Campbells to manage, and we need all the men we have back in Glenstrae to protect it, should they come again."

and

Frantically, she put her ear to the boy's chest, listened for a heartbeat, a gasp of breath. There was none.

"Oh no, no…"

A sound from the bed, a rustle as the woman turned to look at her. Bloodshot eyes found her own and bored into her with feverish intensity. She couldn't hide the truth from her face; her own shock was too new and too raw.

The woman turned her head away. She might have been crying, save Elspeth knew she was too dehydrated for tears. Still, the frail body shook quietly for a few moments, clutching the even smaller body of her son.

God, what do you say to someone who's just lost a child?

All she could think to do was place a comforting hand on the woman's and bow her head, let her have her grief. At length the bony shoulders stilled. Elspeth looked to the woman's face and was startled to see a wild, distant look in her eyes.

"Do you…do you want some water?" she asked, with some alarm.

Eyes now closed, the woman's head shook from side to side.

"We'll take you with us…back to Glenstrae. You can recover there."

The head shook more violently. The low, ragged voice, forced through a throat parched and raw, issued once more from cracked lips.

"[There is naught more for me here, naught for me to live for, now.]"

The woman spoke to her, directly, and this time she managed to make out some of it. A phrase, an explanation—nothing to live for.

No husband, no son. Had she loved her husband? Had the son been the only thing that bound her to this life, made her keep living after he was gone? Dying of a broken heart had always seemed so tragically romantic but now, as she faced the reality of it, she realized it was merely tragic.

So...am I in for it now?  Tragic, historic, worldbuilding detail or senseless deaths that will get me flamed by readers?