This week has been one of the hardest weeks of my entire life.
I don't even think I can describe how much our animals mean to our family. I find myself particularly drawn to their silly, unconditional way of loving us and it makes me feel closer to them than I do to many people.
My tears soak the keyboard as I type this.
In late march my parent's six-year-old, amazingly wonderful,naughty-as-hell, gorgeous, silly, smart-as-can-be, black lab, named "Indy", started coughing. Of course, they took her right to the vet who promptly treated her for Kennel Cough. It seemed like the most reasonable explanation since her symptoms began right after a trip to the vet (and because around here it seems like Kennel Cough is going around!), but after two weeks she still was coughing. The next step was a chest X-ray and possibly taking a look into her lungs to check into the possibility that she aspirated some gopher hair or some table scraps, but the chest X-rays pointed our family in a new direction. The X-rays showed her lymph-nodes, which usually are not even visible by x-ray, were swollen to the size of oranges and putting pressure on her lungs. We knew it looked bad.
Our new fear was Valley Fever (click here for more information).
Our other dogs had caught this infection before.Valley Fever is a fungal infection that gets into the lungs from inhaling spores that live in the soil in southern California and Arizona. The infection produces a nasty, hacking cough, and can lead to many other problems, but we were not too worried since our 10 pound poodle had survived just fine after two years of treatment on anti-fungal medication. So, we were convinced our 100 pound, vigorous and insanely healthy, female lab would do just fine.
We started her on Ketoconazole, an anti-fungal, as well as a cough suppressant to help her sleep. Her appetite significantly declined and the vet said that was pretty normal with the illness and as a reaction to the medication, but to monitor her closely. We were diligent about making sure she ate, but within a week she went from eating her normal dry food, to only canned food, to only chicken and bacon, to crumbled hamburger, to virtually nothing. She lost 20lbs in just over a month.
We had her in the vet roughly three times a week running blood work, doing whatever we could, and we were waiting on results that actually showed results of Valley Fever through a titre-test that looks for antibodies in the blood that are fighting off Valley Fever. I had been back and forth a lot and was nervous about her decline in health.
Then on Friday, April 15th, the unthinkable happened. I got a call that Indy had a stroke. My mom described what happened to me over the phone and through the tears I told her that it sounded more like a seizure and following their trip to the Emergency Vet, it was confirmed that she had in fact had a seizure. This wasn't good. The seizure likely showed the infection had moved into her blood stream and spread to her brain. We couldn't get her in over the weekend and we called UC Davis who assured us we were on the right track for treatment. So, with little else we could do, we spent the weekend force feeding her chicken-noodle soup and encouraging her to lick popsicles to try to keep her energy up.
By Monday morning we were very thankful she survived the weekend. I came home on the first day of my spring break to watch her. She seemed a little better and I force fed an entire can of blended dog food/broth, which seemed to help give her more energy. I took her out front and let her sit in the shade on that beautiful, sunny day before her appointment at 3:30pm again at the vet. At 3:30 my dad met me at our vet and Indy seemed to be feeling worse. She was incredibly weak. The vet took one look at her and just had that look-- this is bad.
She said her blood titre showed almost no reaction to the Valley Fever, meaning it could very likely be something else wrong, or that her body simply was not responding to the infection. Her thoughts changed to cancer. She said it was time to see a specialist if we were going to go further and she made our appointment at UC Davis for 2:00pm the next day. Because Indy was declining she asked if we could go sooner. My dad is a pilot and so we rushed home, packed some stuff, loaded our sick dog into the backseat of our Cessna 182 and the three of us took off to UC Davis small animal emergency.
The flight posed a risk for her breathing, so my job was to keep her on oxygen through the flight. It was the longest flight of our lives trying to hurry up there. It rained on us, and the weather was not very safe to fly in, but we hurried along. She was weak enough that she remained calm and we landed around 8:30pm. My friend, Christina, picked us up and drove us to the vet.
Dr. Singer, the veterinarian at UC Davis, took Indy right away to stabilize her in an oxygen chamber and to put her on fluids. She spoke to us for a long while about all the possibilities of what this could be and she was incredibly patient as we told her every detail of the symptoms. She was at the same conclusion: 50% thought it could be cancer, 50% some infection like Valley Fever. She said the vets were all confused because Indy had not shown symptoms for very long, her titre count was very low (if that were accurate she wouldn't be showing such severe symptoms), and her white blood cell count was perfectly normal. We were all so confused.
We had been holding up pretty well with hope that Indy would pull through until the vet asked about a DNR on Indy--what to do if she suddenly could no longer breathe-- and if we would put her on life support. I remember crying, but my Dad agreed to resuscitate her if that happened, but we both did not want to keep her on life support if it we could not save her.
We kissed her goodbye and went to the hotel around 11pm and she stayed in the oxygen chamber overnight. Her breaths were around 96 per minute, which was way above the normal 10-15 breaths of a healthy dog. We said many prayers and did not sleep almost the entire night. The vet called several times in the night to keep us posted, but things were not looking good. Her new x-rays showed her lymph-nodes were even bigger and putting tremendous strain on her trachea. The hope was that in the next day we could get a diagnosis and try to start a new, more aggressive treatment.
At 4:30am the vet called and said that after all night on the highest oxygen they had she was only down to 84 breaths a minute-- meaning she was not getting much oxygen in her and the vet said it was likely she had already sustained some brain damage. She explained she felt they were close to deciding if they would put her on life support-- particularly if we hoped to have her survive the tests they could run the next day. My Dad asked how long she could be on life support and the vet explained it is $2,500 a day and that she could very likely need it for 7-10 days before knowing any results. Even with a proper diagnosis, Dr. Singer warned we still faced an 80% chance she would be too weak to take off life support. We understood, but did not want to believe the difficult truth.
Dr. Singer was preparing for a shift change and encouraged us to come speak with her before 8:00am to decide if we would try to keep her just on oxygen. We hurried out with our bright red eyes from crying all night and we saw Indy. She looked absolutely exhausted, far worse than we had ever seen. My dad stayed and loved on her for a bit while I talked about our options with the vet. It was so hard seeing my Dad cry. He's a big 6'4" guy who does not cry over anything, and he was absolutely sobbing. As was I. We had stayed up crying all night and we both new, deep down, that this was a one way trip. My dad kept wanting to take her home and just keep her eating for a few days hoping the medication would kick in. It was incredibly difficult. The mind plays so many "what ifs" while trying to understand the pain we were experiencing, but the truth is what is so hard to take.
The vet warned us that she likely would have stopped breathing on her own during the flight home and said, "I know you have not likely seen a dog turn blue, but it is incredibly traumatic and would likely put your lives in danger if that happened in the plane." My dad just felt like if we tried a little harder he could still maybe save her or at least let life just take its course.
After many, many tears, we decided to say goodbye that morning. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do. I lost my beloved childhood cat when I was younger in a very similar way, and it felt like it was happening all over again, but now I was seeing my Dad hurt the same way I felt when I lost my cat in high school.
The vet took the three of us into a quiet room with a rainbow on the wall. We spent some time alone with Indy just loving on her and thanking her for the wonderful years we shared. We have so many memories.
The vet returned and explained what would happen as they helped her pass and asked if we have done this before. My Dad was there for his dog, Liki, as well as our 15 year old Golden retriever, Zoie a few years ago, but this was my first time. She explained it does not always go peacefully, and that they can lose control of their bowels, limbs, and sound like they are choking. My dad encouraged me to leave, but I said I wanted to stay. I did not want to leave him alone, nor did I want to leave Indy. We held her close and I kissed her ear while the vet began. It was very short, peaceful, and she looked like she was sleeping. We broke down and the vet let us stay with her for a bit and I rubbed her velvety ears for the last time. My dad felt so guilty like we had given up on her, but I kept reassuring, "We did not give up on her, we did absolutely everything we could, and we helped stop her hurting".
We left Davis and had the vet perform an autopsy to help provide some answers. We hoped that we could know what to do next time or that her results could possibly save another dog in the future. The results came in a few days later with the confirmation of Valley Fever. It was in her lungs, her lymph-nodes, her heart, her kidneys, her liver, her intestines, and likely her brain as well. They are currently testing the strain because some are worse than others, and we will have results in 4-5 weeks.
We asked what to do with future dogs and the vet encouraged us to do yearly titre tests (we decided we will do them every 4-6 months) and that we would not hesitate to be overly cautious and take the dog in for X-rays for every little cough. Although Valley Fever is incredibly common in southern California and Arizona, the vet explained that Indy was one of the worst cases she has ever seen, especially considering how bad she was despite the short amount of time. Dr. Singer explained most dogs show symptoms 2-4 months before coming to UC Davis and Indy was really only "bad" for two weeks. She explained again, that we did everything right, and everything we could, and that most likely, because Indy was so healthy, this had been brewing inside her without external symptoms because she was so strong.
But, it is still so hard to wrap our heads around.
------------------------------------------------------------
Our vets have been so wonderful through this whole experience. They both sent cards to our family as well as a ceramic paw print cast from Indy. Our whole family has taken this loss so hard. She was an amazing dog, and my mom said it best through her tears saying, "She was the worst dog we ever had!" -- it's sad, but true. We always said we needed a book, "Marley Ain't Got Nothin' On Me" for all the naughty things she did. We loved her so, so, so much and we will never have another dog as special as Indy.
The vet, as well as several friends, encouraged us to open our hearts to another dog. We told my Dad it was his decision. This loss has been the hardest on him. Indy was like the last of his children at home now that his three children have grown up and left home. Additionally, their home has never been without a big dog and it feels so awkwardly empty and quiet with only my mom's 15 year old poodle.
They decided to look into a puppy, not as a replacement, but as a way to help us heal. We found a nice family a few hours south who are absolutely wonderful. They had only one more female, black lab pup available and we went and saw her on Friday. It is so bittersweet. We all agreed we don't want a puppy, but we need one. She is not ready until next Sunday, so it gives us a little more time to grieve and to bring Indy's ashes home to place under our oak tree with our other dogs at home. We will, and do, miss Indy so incredibly much, but we hope that she passed along some of her spunk and silliness to this next puppy so that our hearts can begin to heal.
-------------------
As hard as it is to write of this story, I have to share one incredible experience I gained from this loss.
--------------------
On the flight up I had the most moving experience of my entire life. Indy, who had been lying down most of the flight, stood up suddenly in the plane and looked out the window. My Dad looked back and said, "Look at that double rainbow!"
Outside the window of our plane Indy looked off at, by far, the brightest set of double rainbows I had ever seen. They were incredible. By the time we got our phones turned back on for a photo they had faded so much, but we still captured a glimpse of that special moment. I got choked up right then because I felt like I just knew right then, how this would end, and that Indy would be okay after death. I did not grow up with a religious upbringing, but at that very moment, I felt something so strong, something I had lost after losing my cat.
I felt like I would be seeing them again.
For those who have not read the Rainbow Bridge Poem, it reads:
"Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
I don't even think I can describe how much our animals mean to our family. I find myself particularly drawn to their silly, unconditional way of loving us and it makes me feel closer to them than I do to many people.
My tears soak the keyboard as I type this.
In late march my parent's six-year-old, amazingly wonderful,naughty-as-hell, gorgeous, silly, smart-as-can-be, black lab, named "Indy", started coughing. Of course, they took her right to the vet who promptly treated her for Kennel Cough. It seemed like the most reasonable explanation since her symptoms began right after a trip to the vet (and because around here it seems like Kennel Cough is going around!), but after two weeks she still was coughing. The next step was a chest X-ray and possibly taking a look into her lungs to check into the possibility that she aspirated some gopher hair or some table scraps, but the chest X-rays pointed our family in a new direction. The X-rays showed her lymph-nodes, which usually are not even visible by x-ray, were swollen to the size of oranges and putting pressure on her lungs. We knew it looked bad.
Our new fear was Valley Fever (click here for more information).
Our other dogs had caught this infection before.Valley Fever is a fungal infection that gets into the lungs from inhaling spores that live in the soil in southern California and Arizona. The infection produces a nasty, hacking cough, and can lead to many other problems, but we were not too worried since our 10 pound poodle had survived just fine after two years of treatment on anti-fungal medication. So, we were convinced our 100 pound, vigorous and insanely healthy, female lab would do just fine.
We started her on Ketoconazole, an anti-fungal, as well as a cough suppressant to help her sleep. Her appetite significantly declined and the vet said that was pretty normal with the illness and as a reaction to the medication, but to monitor her closely. We were diligent about making sure she ate, but within a week she went from eating her normal dry food, to only canned food, to only chicken and bacon, to crumbled hamburger, to virtually nothing. She lost 20lbs in just over a month.
We had her in the vet roughly three times a week running blood work, doing whatever we could, and we were waiting on results that actually showed results of Valley Fever through a titre-test that looks for antibodies in the blood that are fighting off Valley Fever. I had been back and forth a lot and was nervous about her decline in health.
Then on Friday, April 15th, the unthinkable happened. I got a call that Indy had a stroke. My mom described what happened to me over the phone and through the tears I told her that it sounded more like a seizure and following their trip to the Emergency Vet, it was confirmed that she had in fact had a seizure. This wasn't good. The seizure likely showed the infection had moved into her blood stream and spread to her brain. We couldn't get her in over the weekend and we called UC Davis who assured us we were on the right track for treatment. So, with little else we could do, we spent the weekend force feeding her chicken-noodle soup and encouraging her to lick popsicles to try to keep her energy up.
By Monday morning we were very thankful she survived the weekend. I came home on the first day of my spring break to watch her. She seemed a little better and I force fed an entire can of blended dog food/broth, which seemed to help give her more energy. I took her out front and let her sit in the shade on that beautiful, sunny day before her appointment at 3:30pm again at the vet. At 3:30 my dad met me at our vet and Indy seemed to be feeling worse. She was incredibly weak. The vet took one look at her and just had that look-- this is bad.
She said her blood titre showed almost no reaction to the Valley Fever, meaning it could very likely be something else wrong, or that her body simply was not responding to the infection. Her thoughts changed to cancer. She said it was time to see a specialist if we were going to go further and she made our appointment at UC Davis for 2:00pm the next day. Because Indy was declining she asked if we could go sooner. My dad is a pilot and so we rushed home, packed some stuff, loaded our sick dog into the backseat of our Cessna 182 and the three of us took off to UC Davis small animal emergency.
The flight posed a risk for her breathing, so my job was to keep her on oxygen through the flight. It was the longest flight of our lives trying to hurry up there. It rained on us, and the weather was not very safe to fly in, but we hurried along. She was weak enough that she remained calm and we landed around 8:30pm. My friend, Christina, picked us up and drove us to the vet.
Dr. Singer, the veterinarian at UC Davis, took Indy right away to stabilize her in an oxygen chamber and to put her on fluids. She spoke to us for a long while about all the possibilities of what this could be and she was incredibly patient as we told her every detail of the symptoms. She was at the same conclusion: 50% thought it could be cancer, 50% some infection like Valley Fever. She said the vets were all confused because Indy had not shown symptoms for very long, her titre count was very low (if that were accurate she wouldn't be showing such severe symptoms), and her white blood cell count was perfectly normal. We were all so confused.
We had been holding up pretty well with hope that Indy would pull through until the vet asked about a DNR on Indy--what to do if she suddenly could no longer breathe-- and if we would put her on life support. I remember crying, but my Dad agreed to resuscitate her if that happened, but we both did not want to keep her on life support if it we could not save her.
We kissed her goodbye and went to the hotel around 11pm and she stayed in the oxygen chamber overnight. Her breaths were around 96 per minute, which was way above the normal 10-15 breaths of a healthy dog. We said many prayers and did not sleep almost the entire night. The vet called several times in the night to keep us posted, but things were not looking good. Her new x-rays showed her lymph-nodes were even bigger and putting tremendous strain on her trachea. The hope was that in the next day we could get a diagnosis and try to start a new, more aggressive treatment.
At 4:30am the vet called and said that after all night on the highest oxygen they had she was only down to 84 breaths a minute-- meaning she was not getting much oxygen in her and the vet said it was likely she had already sustained some brain damage. She explained she felt they were close to deciding if they would put her on life support-- particularly if we hoped to have her survive the tests they could run the next day. My Dad asked how long she could be on life support and the vet explained it is $2,500 a day and that she could very likely need it for 7-10 days before knowing any results. Even with a proper diagnosis, Dr. Singer warned we still faced an 80% chance she would be too weak to take off life support. We understood, but did not want to believe the difficult truth.
Dr. Singer was preparing for a shift change and encouraged us to come speak with her before 8:00am to decide if we would try to keep her just on oxygen. We hurried out with our bright red eyes from crying all night and we saw Indy. She looked absolutely exhausted, far worse than we had ever seen. My dad stayed and loved on her for a bit while I talked about our options with the vet. It was so hard seeing my Dad cry. He's a big 6'4" guy who does not cry over anything, and he was absolutely sobbing. As was I. We had stayed up crying all night and we both new, deep down, that this was a one way trip. My dad kept wanting to take her home and just keep her eating for a few days hoping the medication would kick in. It was incredibly difficult. The mind plays so many "what ifs" while trying to understand the pain we were experiencing, but the truth is what is so hard to take.
The vet warned us that she likely would have stopped breathing on her own during the flight home and said, "I know you have not likely seen a dog turn blue, but it is incredibly traumatic and would likely put your lives in danger if that happened in the plane." My dad just felt like if we tried a little harder he could still maybe save her or at least let life just take its course.
After many, many tears, we decided to say goodbye that morning. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do. I lost my beloved childhood cat when I was younger in a very similar way, and it felt like it was happening all over again, but now I was seeing my Dad hurt the same way I felt when I lost my cat in high school.
The vet took the three of us into a quiet room with a rainbow on the wall. We spent some time alone with Indy just loving on her and thanking her for the wonderful years we shared. We have so many memories.
The vet returned and explained what would happen as they helped her pass and asked if we have done this before. My Dad was there for his dog, Liki, as well as our 15 year old Golden retriever, Zoie a few years ago, but this was my first time. She explained it does not always go peacefully, and that they can lose control of their bowels, limbs, and sound like they are choking. My dad encouraged me to leave, but I said I wanted to stay. I did not want to leave him alone, nor did I want to leave Indy. We held her close and I kissed her ear while the vet began. It was very short, peaceful, and she looked like she was sleeping. We broke down and the vet let us stay with her for a bit and I rubbed her velvety ears for the last time. My dad felt so guilty like we had given up on her, but I kept reassuring, "We did not give up on her, we did absolutely everything we could, and we helped stop her hurting".
We left Davis and had the vet perform an autopsy to help provide some answers. We hoped that we could know what to do next time or that her results could possibly save another dog in the future. The results came in a few days later with the confirmation of Valley Fever. It was in her lungs, her lymph-nodes, her heart, her kidneys, her liver, her intestines, and likely her brain as well. They are currently testing the strain because some are worse than others, and we will have results in 4-5 weeks.
We asked what to do with future dogs and the vet encouraged us to do yearly titre tests (we decided we will do them every 4-6 months) and that we would not hesitate to be overly cautious and take the dog in for X-rays for every little cough. Although Valley Fever is incredibly common in southern California and Arizona, the vet explained that Indy was one of the worst cases she has ever seen, especially considering how bad she was despite the short amount of time. Dr. Singer explained most dogs show symptoms 2-4 months before coming to UC Davis and Indy was really only "bad" for two weeks. She explained again, that we did everything right, and everything we could, and that most likely, because Indy was so healthy, this had been brewing inside her without external symptoms because she was so strong.
But, it is still so hard to wrap our heads around.
------------------------------------------------------------
Our vets have been so wonderful through this whole experience. They both sent cards to our family as well as a ceramic paw print cast from Indy. Our whole family has taken this loss so hard. She was an amazing dog, and my mom said it best through her tears saying, "She was the worst dog we ever had!" -- it's sad, but true. We always said we needed a book, "Marley Ain't Got Nothin' On Me" for all the naughty things she did. We loved her so, so, so much and we will never have another dog as special as Indy.
The vet, as well as several friends, encouraged us to open our hearts to another dog. We told my Dad it was his decision. This loss has been the hardest on him. Indy was like the last of his children at home now that his three children have grown up and left home. Additionally, their home has never been without a big dog and it feels so awkwardly empty and quiet with only my mom's 15 year old poodle.
They decided to look into a puppy, not as a replacement, but as a way to help us heal. We found a nice family a few hours south who are absolutely wonderful. They had only one more female, black lab pup available and we went and saw her on Friday. It is so bittersweet. We all agreed we don't want a puppy, but we need one. She is not ready until next Sunday, so it gives us a little more time to grieve and to bring Indy's ashes home to place under our oak tree with our other dogs at home. We will, and do, miss Indy so incredibly much, but we hope that she passed along some of her spunk and silliness to this next puppy so that our hearts can begin to heal.
-------------------
As hard as it is to write of this story, I have to share one incredible experience I gained from this loss.
--------------------
On the flight up I had the most moving experience of my entire life. Indy, who had been lying down most of the flight, stood up suddenly in the plane and looked out the window. My Dad looked back and said, "Look at that double rainbow!"
Outside the window of our plane Indy looked off at, by far, the brightest set of double rainbows I had ever seen. They were incredible. By the time we got our phones turned back on for a photo they had faded so much, but we still captured a glimpse of that special moment. I got choked up right then because I felt like I just knew right then, how this would end, and that Indy would be okay after death. I did not grow up with a religious upbringing, but at that very moment, I felt something so strong, something I had lost after losing my cat.
I felt like I would be seeing them again.
For those who have not read the Rainbow Bridge Poem, it reads:
"Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.... "
Author unknown...
I had read this before, but upon seeing that Rainbow I felt it. When we said goodbye I asked Indy to wait for us, and I am comforted knowing she will. It feels silly and real at the same time, but deep down, I believe life is what you make it, and death is too. If people want to make their life a living hell, they can, and if not, they have the power to change it for the better as well. I feel that death is the same. For now I will enjoy my little heaven on earth with our other pets that give us so much love, but I look forward to the day I can see all my friends, family, and the pets we have lost again. I just pray that right now Indy is up there chasing squirrels, digging gophers, knocking over our Golden Retrievers, and chasing my cat just like she used to do.
We love you "Labby-dor".
We love you "Labby-dor".
I'm so sorry about your loss. Losing a pet is heartbreaking. I can't even describe how painful it's been every time it's been time for one of our pets to pass away... I wish I had words to make you feel better... but I can't take away the pain. So, I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm certain you guys did EVERYTHING you could to help Indy, she's in a better place now <3
ReplyDeleteI am so very sorry you lost your beloved lab. I have owned three over the years and they are so wonderful, funny and lovable. I can feel through your words how painful this was but you gave her a good long life, full of love and were there for her in the end. She will never forget that...
ReplyDeletetake care and give yourself a little time to adjust and heal...
I am SO sorry for the loss of sweet Indy. My dogs are like my children and I can't imagine how hard it has been for you and your Dad. I got teary-eyed just reading this post. Sending lots of prayers your way!
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry to hear about the loss of your dog. They are truly like family members, and losing them is always so hard. I'm glad that you were able to have some special moments with her before she left, and to see the bright side of all that happened.
ReplyDeleteMy parents' dog, our first and only dog as a family, just passed away a few weeks ago, and it was so hard. She had cancer, and had lost the use of her back legs the last time we were able to see her. It was so hard to see her in pain, but I am so grateful that I was able to see her one last time. And like your double-rainbow, the day before we said goodbye we spent an amazing day with her going down the river in my parents' boat, one of her favorite things. I'll never forget that last special moment I had with her.
I hope you and your family find peace and comfort soon.
~Chelsea
I am sorry for your loss. My dogs mean the world to myself and my husband. I completely understand that incredible and indescribable love between a pet and it's owner.
ReplyDeleteI love the Rainbow Bridge poem. I, too, hope to see my awesome pets that have crossed over the bridge one day.
~Maggie
What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful dog. A week ago today, I said goodbye to my dog of 12 and a half years ... he was the best dog EVER. My heart is still breaking and my tears are still constant. I miss him so much. It sounds strange but in the middle of the night that my dog died I went downstairs to use the bathroom ... on the way there I turned on a lamp and looked out of the window to my dog's bed and was in shock to see him lying there. I rubbed my eyes and looked again and there he was ... so I went and turned on the other lights as I thought maybe the lamp I had turned on was casting a shadow on the bed. When I turned on all the lights he disappeared and I thought that it was the lamp casting a shadow. After visiting the bathroom I turned the main lights off again and left the lamp on to see if the same shadow was cast. Guess what? It wasn't there!!! I strongly believe it was my dog telling me that he will always be with us. I believe your Indy will find a way to show you that he is always with you too and I hope you and your family heal with the arrival of your new puppy.
ReplyDeleteNatalie xx
At work. Sobbing. Thinking about you and Indy. I have lost a few pets in my time... none have been easy. I got my latest hound 11.5 years ago and have dreaded "that day" since day one. I only hope I am strong enough to say good-bye and do the right thing for him, instead of keeping him around for me. That must have been the hardest decision for you and your Dad. xxoo
ReplyDeleteThank you everyone for your kind words. Losing her has been so hard, and I know those of you who read this understand the impact pets can have on our lives. I feel like they are always here with us, in our thoughts, our hearts, and our memories.
ReplyDeleteThis quote is one that means a lot to me.
“If there ever comes a day when we can't be together keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever”-- Winnie the Pooh
xoxo,
Caitlin @ That House on the Corner
Your post took me back to November when our Ruby got sick and passed away. Although, like your family, we know we did all we could possibly do for her, the pain is still there. I spent Thanksgiving weekend at home with her (while my family went to my in-laws) to take care of her in hopes of a different outcome. I am so thankful for the time we had with her! We also got another dog shortly afterwards, and as much as I adore and love Alice, I still do miss my Ruby. I pray for healing for you and your family's hearts!
ReplyDelete