Jennybaby,
It was one week ago yesterday when we made that devastating last ride in the car to the vet, and helped you cross over to the other side where (i hope) you'll be waiting for us until we can join you.
Mommy, Daddy, Brittany and your feline brother, Oliver, all miss you so so much. None of us have been able to sleep much...Daddy has had the most trouble sleeping. You know how he is though - always having trouble dealing with his feelings. He cried when you took your last breath....but he has had trouble crying since. Instead, he channels all those horrible feelings of loss and guilt and of just plain missing you into the negative. And what's worse is that I don't think he believes your soul lives on, which makes it hurt even more. Maybe you can help him to grieve? Maybe send him a sign that you're watching over him? He needs you now. I think he misses your walks together, however much he used to moan about being too tired to take you, I think he knows now that you were tired too and though he won't say it, I know he wishes he could take you for just one last walk. I do too.
Mommy cries for you a lot. We all knew that this would be the hardest on her - you were her only friend. But all things considered, I think she's handling it pretty well - better than I expected. But I can see that she feels guilty because your last day was a "good day" (as good as it could have been anyway) and she's not quite sure that she made the right decision at the right time - she's doubting herself, baby. Help her to understand that it was your time, that the days would only have gotten worse, that you were in pain and that she did the right thing in deciding to end your suffering. I know you love her for that. I do. Even though I miss you so much, and can't stand that you're not here with me. I have to believe that you perked up on that last day because we needed to say goodbye and know that you would hear us. I have to believe that you became lucid so that when we held your paws and stroked your soft white fur as you looked right into our eyes and took your last breaths, you would know that we were there with you, that we loved you, that we would never let anything bad happen to you, that everything was going to be okay.
Oliver still waits for you at the door, the way he always did when we went for our walks together. He doesn't understand that you're not coming back from your walk this time. Maybe you can help him understand that you're gone from this world, but that we'll all be together again someday at the rainbow bridge. I'm worried about him, baby. Help me help him.
Brian and Vicky were very sad when you left us too. They said their goodbyes to you the day before you passed away, as they packed up to move out and into their new home. They both knelt down and whispered in your ear, made sure that you knew you were a good dog, and that you would be deeply missed, and they both cried as they stood, turned away and walked out the door. I kept them updated, let them know that we were keeping you happy and comfortable in your last hours (Brian specifically requested that I do so). And I let them know when we were at the vet, that you were okay (but that we weren't...). And then, as I sobbed in the car on the drive home, I called and said "she's gone." They called later that night to make sure we were all okay, and we spoke with them the next morning. Brian said that they held vigil for you when they got the news that you had left us - they cried themselves to sleep early that night. They were happy, though, that you were able to meet their new son Julius before you made your journey to heaven.
We have gotten all kinds of nice letters and calls from the people you touched over the years, and who loved you. Pete sent Mommy and I messages saying what a good dog you were and how sorry he was to hear of your passing. Cook sent us a letter from California offering his condolences. He told us what an impression you had on him, that apparently he wasn't a dog person until he met you, and now he has a dog of his own! He even said that he had wanted to get a Standard Poodle when he and Caroline were discussing what kind of a dog to get, but that Caroline had said standards were "too smart" so they decided on a poodle mix instead. It's amazing how many people you made fall in love with you and how many people who's pre-conceived notions about poodles were shattered when they met you. We've received heartfelt messages from literally all over the country, baby. You were so loved - far and wide - there were no boundaries to the lives that you touched. What a good girl you were.
Your uncle Brian B. was sad over your passing too. When I got home from the vet after our last moments together, he was already at the house waiting for me, and he gave me a big bear hug as I sobbed in his arms. He cried too. He gave Mommy a big hug too and I think that really meant a lot to her - she's been inviting him over every day since. And he's been here. His baby, Girl, is going to be put down today. She's been suffering for a long time and it's her time to go. He's very sad and I'm trying to comfort him, because I can feel his pain so sharply in my own heart. It's amazing that my best friend and I are losing our babies only a week apart. When she gets up there, pumpkin, try to find her and show her around. Keep her company. I know you two will get along - you are both such sweet dogs. Uncle Brian will feel better knowing that you two are keeping each other company and waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge.
As for me, baby, I'm a mess. I don't want you to worry - I know that time will heal. But I will always miss you. I ALREADY miss you more than words can say. I just wish that you were here with me, though I know that you are in a better place now where you're no longer suffering and where you have endless fields and beaches to run on and an ocean of your favorite foods and lots of other dogs and kittys to keep you company while you wait for us. But the selfish part of me just wants you back. It breaks my heart that you're not there, wagging your tail and waiting eagerly at the door when I get home. Every time I sit down, I long for you to come over and rub your little head on my legs, "hugging" me to thank me for taking you on a walk or making your dinner for you, or just to tell me that you love me. When I watch TV and a dog comes on, I miss you barking at the TV as if to say hello to the animals on the screen. I miss you and oliver sitting at the top of the stairs, together, looking down at me. I miss your cute little tail, wagging enthusiastically and nearly constantly, as if your powder puff tail had all the energy in the world to tell us that you were the happiest dog on earth. I miss our walks. Oh how I miss our walks. I can hardly pass by the park or our path without getting choked up or bursting into tears. I even miss you trying to eat the duck poop in the park, if you were here just one more day I would let you eat all the duck poop in the world. I miss you sniffing everything in sight as we trotted down that path. And how, once you were done with your business, you turned right around and pulled me back up the hill to the house, as if you couldn't possibly wait another second to get home where we would all be together. And most of all, I miss how when we got back from our walk, I would let you off your leash as soon as we reached the yard, and you would sniff around and then lead with your head to plop down into the grass, rolling on your back, back and forth, waving your legs in the air, and when you were done you would get up, shake off and then look at me as if to say "you comin'??" before racing back to the house.
Oh Jena I miss you so much. I cry for you every night and every morning. They handed me your collar after you took your last breath and I have not been able to let go of it. I carried it around in my purse for the first few days but after almost losing it a few times, I decided to keep it in the house. It's now under my pillow. And I'm constantly reaching under my pillow to hold it in my hands. It still smells like you and your puppy shampoo.
People who don't have pets (or who were never particularly close to their family pets) just don't understand. Jessi came over last night and brought over 2 of her friends (which I wish she hadn't done...she didn't even ask!) and they were just partying and carrying on while me and uncle Brian sat there and couldn't muster up the energy to join in their joy. She should have known that I wasn't ready to socialize like that. I invited her over b/c she's one of my best friends and I could use the support of my friends...but I wasn't up for THAT. She should have known. And then some stupid friend of a friend made some comment the other night about how losing an older pet "isn't as sad" as losing a young pet to tragedy. I could have killed him. What does he know? I beg to differ - I am the saddest person in the world right now...so how does that figure? People just don't understand.
But you did. You were always there for me when I was having a bad day. You sat still and let me hug you when I came home devastated over this or that. When I was sick or sad, you jumped up on my bed and slept with me and even let Oliver do the same (a rare occasion). You always sat by me when I was going through the many horrible things I've gone through in my life. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I just hope that I was able to give you the same love and care that you gave me. I hope I made you happy, baby. I hope I made you proud. And I hope that I was as much of a comfort to you as you were to me.
One of these days, I will post your story on here. You have such a great story. Like something out of a movie. I have been writing it but I have had to stop frequently because it just makes me too sad. One day I will finish it, and will pay you proper tribute by posting it for all to read. Please be patient with me, baby, it's been really hard.
I'll write again soon, pumpkin. I love you with all my heart.
Love,
Brittany
p.s. I am posting a picture of you here. it is one of the last pictures I took of you, before you got too sick but after we had found out that you had cancer. even at 15 years old and with terminal cancer, you were still such a beautiful dog. you looked great right up to your very last moment on this earth. and that's how you always did it - with style. that's my baby.
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