I'm at the one week point and did pretty well all day, but evenings are hardest. I miss so much! I feel so guilty for all the times I complained about the work, carrying him, etc. I am trying very hard to see that we did the right thing, but it's still nagging me. I thank you all so much for your support and understanding.

Evenings are hard for all of us... but I think you are doing well. I used to complain about Edgar always being so grumpy and Jesse always needing attention... That is the nature of humanity... complain, complain, complain

I never complain about my new kitty - Oscar. I just enjoy his independant streak. It makes him... him.

HUGS

Dear, dear Waflady,
I really, really can relate to your feelings. I stayed in the "guilt" phase for so, so long and then I bounced back and forth. I still do it sometimes, and it's been almost 8 months since I had my baby girl Hannah put to sleep. Everything you are feeling is perfectly normal. This pain does not go away for a very long time, but some days are better than others. It is all so new to you -- just one week! I know it feels like you are going crazy, I'm sure you just wish you could lie down and sleep through all these sad, overwhelming feelings and missing your Rusty so very much. The pain is almost unbearable, I know.

I did go talk to someone pretty soon after and I also went back and talked to Hannah's vets. It helped some. However, I actually wish I had waited awhile to go to a psychologist because it took me at least a couple of months for all of my feelings (or most of them) to even surface. If you don't have anyone in your life you can really talk to, it might really help you to do that. I think that has been and is still one of my problems -- my friends and my family don't really understand and they don't want to talk about it. That makes it so much more difficult. I love to talk about my Hannah girl, and I do so whenever I can. Whether I say something about her that makes me smile or brings back good memories or even if it's something that makes me cry, I LIKE to be able to talk about my baby!

Here is an article for you to read if you haven't already. It helped me a lot. --

Dealing with the Guilt.

Guilt. It's a word that can invoke in us the deepest, most terrible feelings of loss, horror, anger, and helplessness. Why did I do what I did? Why couldn't I have done more? Did I kill my beloved pet? Did I not do enough? Did I do too much? Did I put him/her down too soon? Did I wait too long? If only I had closed the gate. If only I had noticed sooner. If only I had waited longer. If only I had more money. If only I had rushed to the vet sooner. If only I had known more at the time. If only I had listened to my gut feelings. If only I had gone to a better vet.

And we beat ourselves up for all these questions and "if-onlys". Why do we do this? Because we loved our pets. Because we wish we could have done more, or wish we had not done what we did.

But we cannot bring them back. We cannot change what we did or did not do.

What we can do is stop hurting ourselves over the guilt. Each of us, in our own way, did what we thought was right at the time, using what we knew and felt. Each of us tried to do the best we could, and did it with the intention of love.

We are human beings, with frailties and faults. We don't know everything. We make mistakes. But we make them with the best of intentions.

To hurt ourselves with the terrible additional pain of guilt is to do disservice to the love we felt for our pets. With very, very few exceptions, we did the best we knew to do at the time. Even if we feel that we didn't do what we should have, or did what we should not have, we have learned, and everyone will benefit from that knowledge now.

Our beloved pets are gone, and out of pain. We still torture ourselves with the pain of guilt and doubt. It's human to do that, too, but are we being fair to ourselves?

We loved, deeply, and that says that we have a deep capacity for love that many do not. We are basically good people. Should we not recognize that goodness, instead of inflicting pain on ourselves for what we could, or should, or should not have done?

We took in a beloved creature, and gave him or her everything we could. We petted, we walked, we fed, we changed litterboxes, we played, we stroked, we sat sleepless on difficult nights. We cared, and did everything we knew to do at the time. And we looked in their eyes, and knew they understood that we loved them, and knew that they loved us.

If we didn't know enough, or made an innocent mistake, do we believe that they did not understand, and love and forgive us in spite of it? I believe they did, and that they do.

We need to forgive ourselves. If we can, we can increase our knowledge, reach out to help others, and use our pain to make things better for our pets, for others' pets, and for those animals out there who are alone and lost. We can make a difference. But only if we quit hating ourselves, blaming ourselves, for being human.

Let the guilt go. Know that your furbabies don't blame you; they understand, because they know your heart. Let yourself forgive yourself, and allow all the love you have to be there for another. There are so many who need it.

Learn, and then teach. Keep learning, and don't stop. Every pebble of knowledge and caring you send out will ripple throughout the world, and keep growing. And perhaps in time, every animal will be loved, and well-cared for, and there will be a great golden age for the animals, and for those of us who love them.Ginger-lyn Summer
September 10, 1999

I have no doubt in my mind that you did what was right for Rusty. As Jim said, he lived to be 16 years old. Please try to remember all the love you gave him and he gave you, all the wonderful, loving things you did for him, all the times you carried him and soothed him and how you would have done anything in the world if it would have saved him and made him whole and well again to remain in this life with you. You could not do that, and so you did what was necessary to take away his pain and make him whole and well and young again. Rusty loves you. You, like so many of us, loved Rusty enough to let him out of this life so he would not be in pain anymore. It's such an awful decision we have to make. I am sorry you had to go through this. Please try to be patient with yourself. I don't understand why anyone in the whole world would expect a person who has to go through this to be anything but devastated at this point. It will take time. Just take care of yourself as best you can. Keep coming here. I did and everyone helped me so much. Some days I am still overwhelmed with losing my girl and missing her so very much. But, that is the way it is. We will always miss them and love them -- until the day we get to see them again.
Love,
Marcia

Thank you, Marcia. I had a terrible night last night and it's like the first day again today. At this point it doesnt feel like it will ever get better. My heart hurts for all of us who have gone thru this or will go thru it. Luckily my husband is at peace with our decision. He continues to tell me it was right, but I can't convince myself. Makes you wonder if loving so deeply is worth it.

I don't think I can say anything better than what Macia just said. She just has such a lovely way with thoughts, words, poems, etc.

Please know that you're not alone in your pain. There are many nights when I arrive home from work that I break down and cry. Be patient and kind with yourself. Rusty was a part of your life for 16 years, it's going to take a long while for you to stop hurting. Remember that each tear you shed is a healing tear. You'll have good days and bad days. For me, it took about two months before I started having equal numbers of good days as compared to bad days.
My thoughts are with you.
Kathleen

One week is such a short time I was still in shock about Chili Bean then. I still feel bad that there was nothing they could do for her. Just as there was nothing they could do for Rusty. All we can do is love them enough to set them free of pain and work through our pain. Time will surely ease the burden of what we had to do in the name of love.
Ann