Showing posts with label pet loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pet loss. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 12, 2023

One Year Later And I'm Still Grieving




Today, July 12th, marks one year since I lost my sweet girl pug Savi. They say that the grief gets easier over time but I'm not sure about that. The pain of losing her still lingers; she was my best fur companion and I loved her more than I ever thought possible. She left a hole in my heart that I fear no other pet can fill. The tears still come when I think of her---as I often do. I remember the way she stared at me just before she closed her eyes for the last time while she was being euthanized. And I remember how my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest. I don't know if I can ever get past that painful memory. Of course, I'm grateful for the two pugs I still have---I hold them extra close now---but they are not like Savi. She was my lap dog, my shadow, my baby. She loved to be cuddled and slept beside me every night for nine years. In my dreams, she's still there---until I wake to the empty spot beside me and remember she is gone. 

Maybe you think it's silly to grieve so hard for a pet, but if you've ever been in my shoes---as many of you have---you understand this unique kind of grief. I've lost a lot of close family members and friends over the years, but this particular loss hit me extra hard. I know that pets ARE family, no matter what anyone else thinks. Unlike humans who become ill and are close to death, pets are innocent and do not understand what is happening when their body starts failing. They depend on us to help them through the pain, even though they are often unable to communicate these emotions. They have no understanding of a higher power or faith in the afterlife. All they know is the here and now---with us beside them---as they are leaving. And we are left with their names forever etched into our hearts.

My husband has offered to get me another dog, but I'm still not ready. I may never be. Savi can never be replaced, and the thought of going through this pain again with another dog terrifies me. All I have left of Savi is a tattoo of her paw print, a box of ashes, and my memories.

Some very kind people reached out to me after my loss and gave me extraordinary gifts to memorialize my love for Savi. One is a stone plaque created for her and another is a painting that an artist sent me after reading my story about her in AARP. At times like this, I lean heavily on my husband and the kindness of strangers. I'm still taking the loss one day at a time, holding my fur baby close to my heart in every way possible. 




There is a video on Tik Tok that makes me sob every time I watch it but in a hard way, it's also comforting because it gives me hope that I'll see my beautiful girl again one day. This is from @muthapuppa:

"If your dog could have just one more moment with you, they'd tell you this: I know you miss me. I miss you too. But I need you to know....I took it all with me. Your love. Your scent. The memories. Even my blankey. Thank you for giving me so much love and joy. I love you. Always have. Always will...."


I will always love and miss you, sweet Savi. I look forward to seeing you again one day on the other side of the rainbow.....



Thursday, July 14, 2022

Saying Goodbye: A Little Eulogy For My Four-Legged Friend


Unless you have owned a pet that you loved more than you ever thought possible and considered a member of your family, you will not understand my need to write this eulogy for my four-legged friend. I know people are not supposed to compare the loss of a pet to the loss of a human, but grief is a tricky thing. No two people experience it the same way, and it's impossible to put a degree or timetable on the pain. 



On July 12 at 1:30 a.m., we had to help our sweet pug Savi cross the rainbow bridge. As many of you who follow me on social media know, our pup became unexpectedly and gravely ill 5 weeks ago. She was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease as well as a bad gall bladder. We did everything we could for her---got opinions from four different vets, numerous blood tests and ultrasounds, made sure she had the necessary surgery (removal of gall bladder and spleen), transfusions, multiple medications, and two weeks in a canine ICU. We spent every dime we had left because the prognosis for her was good---she had an 85% recovery rate. For a while there, we thought we had a miracle dog---she bounced back so quickly, even the doctors were astonished. But last weekend she had a major setback---she stopped eating, stopped drinking, and did nothing but sleep. I knew it was the beginning of the end for her and started counting the hours until the dreaded day came. Everyone warned me that I'd know when it was time to let her go by the look in her eyes, but I refused to accept that. I was confident she was not in pain yet and would hopefully pass peacefully in her sleep. But there was still that little spark of hope in me that she would somehow bounce back again. 



She didn't. Late Monday night her breathing became hard and rapid. I held her for the longest time, and when she looked up at me, I saw it in her eyes, just like everyone said I would. She was telling me it was time. My husband and I drove her to the clinic in the middle of the night and said our final goodbyes.

Next week, we would have celebrated Savi's 10th birthday. I have lost family members, friends, and numerous pets before, but this ranks right up there as one of the most painful losses ever---maybe because it went on for five long weeks of hell. 

Savi came to us from a pug rescue group 9 years ago, and it was love at first sight. She has been my constant companion, my fur baby girl, my sweet angel. She was family. She loved to sunbathe on the deck and her favorite food was salmon. Whenever I took warm clothes out of the dryer, she would hop on the pile, roll over on her back and take a long nap. I called her my "little piggy" because she had a plump, pink belly. There were so many kisses and snuggles with her---she was the most loving dog I have ever known. Savi sat on my lap every time I plopped down on the couch to rest, and she always slept beside me in bed for the nine years we had her. I got so used to her pug snores that they actually comforted me and helped me fall asleep. Now I cannot even sleep in that bed and instead have moved temporarily into our guest room. To say that my heart is broken is an understatement. My heart is completely shattered. 

RIP Savi, I'll see you on the other side, precious girl. This home will never feel the same again without you. 

  

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