It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since I had to make one of the most difficult decisions of my life. Two weeks since I said good-by to the goodest boy, my best friend, my little universe. No one tells you how slowly time passes after the death of a beloved pet, but it does. These two weeks have crept by tainted by solitude, emptiness, and an overwhelming sense of grief. Nothing can quite prepare you for how difficult this chapter in life really is. I want to share my story with you today in case you have lost a pet or are needing to make the impossible decision of saying good-bye to your best friend. Maybe writing these words down will help you, maybe they will help me too.
I have suffered pet loss before. I am not new to this tragic rodeo, but somehow this time it was different. Very different. Joey was my first dog and my one constant during two other very difficult chapters in my life: becoming a single mother, and losing my dad. On the weekends when I sat in a silent, childless house when my kids were with their father, Joey would keep me company. On the nights I stayed awake crying over my fathers death, Joey curled up closer to me than usual because he knew that’s what I needed. Dogs always know. No matter how tough times got, what I lacked, what challenge the world decided to throw my way at any given moment, Joey was my consistent source of joy.
Joey came into my life as a 5 month old ball of white fluff and the product of a puppy mill. The vets warned me that due to his poor breeding he would likely suffer health issues throughout his life, but I ignored all warnings and set to just love my third baby. He was smart and so good from the very start. He learned to go to the door to potty outside his very first day in my house, immediately took to his leash, and would put himself to bed after his dinner and last trip to the backyard every night. Joey was pure love. He didn’t meet a person or animal that he didn’t adore. He never bit or fought a soul. He brought peace and laughter into my life when I needed it the most.
The vets were not wrong about Joey’s health. Throughout his thirteen years earthside he suffered from several diagnosis. The first one was IVVD which led him to being prescribed a three month course of steroids. Little did I know that extended use of steroids in dogs can lead to blindness and cause cardiac complications. I will take a moment here to say that, while I appreciate and understand the need for veterinarians, they are not infallible (and neither are our own doctors). I did what I thought was best for my little guy because I trusted the “experts”. The steroids did nothing for his vertebrae and on his third month of steroids, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I researched and found an amazing place in Los Angeles called Two Hands Four Paws, and within two weeks of their holistic treatments which included cold laser therapy, acupuncture, and Chinese herbal medicine, his pain was gone and he was walking again. Unfortunately, the steroids had done their damage and he would later lose his vision and develop an enlarged heart.
Joey became my special needs pup and I helped him navigate his newly darkened world, but once again he was nothing short of amazing. He mapped out our new home within 24 hours and never once acted anything other than his joyful self despite no longer being able to see. He would hop like a bunny and spin around every time he was excited and showered all of us with never-ending love. He knew exactly where to go to find his treats and what to do to trick us into giving him more. And more. And then some more.
I had a routine of feeding times and supplements to give him to keep him as comfortable and healthy as possible. That schedule became ingrained in me and for the past two weeks, not a day has gone by that I don’t ache at the void left behind in both my home and my schedule. We were bonded and attached. He relied on me and knew I was his mama. I, in turn, truly felt that he had rescued me…and not so much the other way around.
Joey was an angel….even before he earned his proper wings. He was the epitome of unconditional love, loyalty, and resilience. He taught me life lessons no human ever could. He asked for nothing (except for maybe too many treats) but gave everything.
We know as humans, that these little companions we welcome into our lives won’t live forever…although they deserve to. It just seems cruel that they get taken as soon as they do. Joey was 13 and had been slowing down for the past year. He had given me signs of his aging that were hard to ignore…but he still had the zoomies, loved his food, and his walks. I had no inkling that his last day with us would be so soon. His last week with us he had gotten even slower, still ate like a champ, but seemed just a bit “off”. Toward the end of the week he started presenting with what looked like another bout of IVDD or an ear infection…something was hurting in his neck area. I took him to the vet and they decided to do a full senior diagnostic. He was away from me for half an hour getting X-rays, bloodwork and a urinalysis. All came back clear and perfectly healthy except for a mild heart murmur, and the enlarged heart and collapsing trachea we were already watching out for. Vet prescribed pain meds and an oticetic wash for his ear infection and said since he wasn’t coughing consistently, and had no edema or issues with his lungs, we could hold off on going to a cardiologist.
My boy always hated the vet and would get very anxious, so he was happy to get home, and after washing out his ear, and feeding him, we cuddled up on the couch. I worked on my laptop and he fell peacefully asleep. I was happy and relieved that my little old man was going to be ok. That night he went out to pee, had his dinner, and put himself to bed as usual. That’s the last time things would be ok.
At midnight he began panting heavily. I knew this was a sign of anxiety and/or pain. I gave him a dose of the prescribed gabapentin and he calmed down enough to go to sleep. For the next few hours he would cough for a bit then fall back asleep, but this time he was wheezing lightly in his sleep. He was prone to snore sometimes so I didn’t think too much of it, but as dawn approached the wheezing grew louder and he began coughing consistently, especially when laying on his side. I immediately called the vet and she had me run in to get a diuretic which was supposed to remove the liquid that his heart was pushing into his lungs. It was supposed to work within two hours. It did not. He got worse. His breathing rattled harder and every time he tried to lay on his side so that we could give him belly rubs, he would gag and cough desperately. I called the vet in a panic and she let me know sometimes the diuretic doesn’t work and that it sounded like the stress of the vet visit the day before, all the poking and prodding, tipped his heart over the edge and into cardiac failure. My option was to drop him off at the ER to be put into a oxygen tank overnight with no promise he would make it until the morning, or to allow him to pass at home.
It was not a decision I ever wanted to make. I wanted my little guy to someday pass peacefully in his sleep many years from now…I guess it’s how we all want our angels to go. Instead, he was suffering and the last thing I could do was drop him off afraid, sick, and alone to sit in a tank and likely not make it til morning. Even though my heart felt like it was being ripped from my body, I called an at home euthanasia service and they were able to come out that evening. The vet who arrived assured me that Joey’s condition had advanced so quickly, he would not have survived an overnight stay at the ER. I would not have been able to live with myself if he had died alone and afraid like that. She gave us the time to feed him his favorite treats which he still, somehow, managed to eat happily….and then it was time to say goodbye.
When the vet confirmed that his heart had stopped, I felt mine stop too. Everything after that was a blur. My daughter and I burying our faces into his fur and telling him how much we loved him. His still warm body felt so oddly heavy, and yet somehow I half expected him to turn his little head and start sniffing at us. I watched the vet wrap him up in blankets, and then I carried him out to her car. After she drove away, my daughter and I walked back into the house, and I fell to my knees and felt the breath leave my body. Something had been ripped wide open in me….and to be very honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.
Just like we all have great people in our lives, there are always some that are particularly special and dear to us. The same is so with animals. Joey was the best, my best, our best. His loss, as sudden and terrible as it was, left a rip in the fabric of our home and family. The silence and emptiness is impossible to ignore and it makes me think about how we mourn and deal with grief in general.
You see, when my father died, I read a lot about the grieving process in order to make an attempt to heal. I learned that we store grief in our bodies. It never goes away, although the waves hit us at longer and slower intervals as time goes by. I believe that once we have felt true grief and have mourned the loss of a loved one, every subsequent loss hits us harder…because our bodies recognize the pain and those emotional wounds re-open and become deeper. Our bodies, our hearts, our emotions feel grief and don’t compartmentalize according to whether we have lost a human or an animal. It’s only our brains that can rationalize this way. The pain and loss is devastating either way because loss is loss.
So, when Joey died, all of the grief I had buried after my dad passed, came bubbling to the surface and joined the heartbreak of losing Joey. I remember now how much my dad adored my little dog. As my dad too slowed down during the last year of his life, he would always perk up and hop around like a little boy with Joey. Joey adored my dad too and would cuddle up to him any chance he could get. The irony is not lost on me that both my dad and Joey were the kindest and loveliest of souls…they had hearts of gold, and yet it was their hearts that betrayed them both.
I take some solace in knowing that my Joey and my dad are in the Great Beyond watching over my kids, my husband, and me. We have the two best guardian angels anyone could ever ask for now. They are together. My dad is strong and healthy and can hear again, and Joey can see with perfect eyes. Yet, the emptiness remains…and the silence is deafening.
I read a quote in passing that says something along the lines of “grief is love with nowhere to go”….and I believe that. I believe that is why my heart feels so heavy and empty at the same time. I still break down and cry at random times throughout the day. I am grateful that I had thirteen years with my little best friend. I wish I could have had him for longer. I have so many unanswered questions….I still can’t process why and how things progressed as quickly as they did. It all seems so sudden and unfair.
It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since I had to make the most difficult decision of my life. They say time heals, and I know it does….but time never allows you to forget. And that’s good. I don’t ever want to forget my little universe, Joey McCloud. Loved forever, forgotten never.
If you’re experiencing loss of a pet, please know you are not alone. I have found comfort in a Love and Loss pet remembrance Facebook group and in a small group of friends and family members who understand the depths of this experience. While I don’t have advice on how to best process this time in life, because I’m struggling myself, I think we need to remember to give ourselves grace and patience. Just have to let time take care of the rest and know that someday all the little, and not so little, lives that we miss will be standing at the edge of the Rainbow Bridge waiting for us.
**A beautiful book that I received a few day’s after Joey’s passing is I’m Still Here. Highly recommend for people of any age who are dealing with pet loss. Find it here: I’M STILL HERE
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