Thank you, Beth.

I've ordered the books you recommended-- it will do my heart good to read. Your sweet words helped so much.

I wonder-- do you think you can permanently injure yourself by crying too much? I can't seem to stop. I'm afraid my eyeballs might explode.

Dianna,

My eyeballs would have exploded long ago if that were possible. Tears are important to shed as they help to release the hurt inside of us. Letting them go may be exhausting but necessary. Yogi's death is still very acute. Especially because of the way he died, I would imagine you are still in some state of shock and disbelief. No doubt your pain is still raw and most likely it will take alot of time before the tears slow down. I didn't think my tears would ever stop. My emotions were so out of whack that I didn't know when the tears would come nor when they would stop. Eventually I got some tear-free times that would seem to indicate I was doing better and then WAM, a thought would cross my mind and the tears would start all over again. My emotions were very sensitive for a very long time.

Just yesterday, one of my patients that I hadn't seen in a very long time came in. The first thing she asked me about was Goliath. At first I began to tell her that he had passed away and then a few seconds later I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Somehow I was able to compose myself and we wound up having a wonderful conversation about how much love our furkids bring into our lives and enrich our own souls. We also talked about how much friendlier and compassionate animal lovers seem to be.

Your journey of healing will take time Dianna. You'll find yourself taking baby steps toward recovery. At times you will take bigger steps. Sometimes you may find yourself taking a few steps backward. You can expect many ups and downs as you are just learning now how to live in a different way. Adjusting to major changes in life is hard. I promise you that one day you will be able to speak of Yogi and smile once again.

Hugs,
Beth

I seem to have survived another day and night, thanks to everyone on this website. I'm trying to stop counting the hours since Yogi's death (68, but who's counting?)

Today I woke up feeling somehow sadder than ever, but I sense it's because I'm finally moving from shock and denial (many fantasies that it was all an enormous mistake, she survived the impact, and we should just go dig her up and take her to the vet) (sorry-- creepy image there) to plain old dumb acceptance and grief. I told Scotty I hate the fact of the pain itself but I'm glad, somehow, to be finally able to take it in and feel what I need to feel. In a way, sadness feels like something I can offer to my girl.

My husband loves all things oceanic and he told me he thinks that grieving must be a little like making a pearl. You start with a bit of grit and then every day you add another tiny layer of beauty-- the love and the memories-- and some day down the road you actually have a pearl. He is such a smart boy.

Then I went outside to have myself a good cry and as I was sitting there on the ground, I noticed a couple of Yogi's left over droppings off in the yard. It actually made me so happy to see them that now I know I've really lost my mind. At least I didn't put them in the freezer or anything.

This is just to say good morning and thank you, each of you. I wish I could give everyone here a huge hug.

Diana

Dianaa,

It will get better and then it will get bad again and then it will get better again. I still miss my Woody Boy very much and we are going on five weeks without him. The &%^ogy your husband made about the pearl is spot on. He is very clever.

I know what you mean about the "droppings". I felt the same way when my Beauregard passed ten yers ago and I saw his "droppings" in the yard and recently when I walked Smokey and I saw Woody's "droppings". I had to remind my self that they aren't really a part of him, just processed food.

I just finished the "Cold Noses at the Pearly Gates" book and it helped me very much. I hope it gives you some comfort, too. I'm thinking about you (and pretty Yogi) Dianaa. Take care.

Steve

Steve and Beth,

Thank you for your encouragement. Grief is awfully sneaky, I guess. Today I had some quiet spells where I thought I was finally somehow getting "better" but then I would have a total melt-down. I feel so fragile, like I can't bear even the slightest unkindness in the world. I've even lost interest in the election-- my neighbors have been fighting and I just want them to see how much we need each other, how important it is to be kind to each other.

So many hard moments-- the first time I came back in the door today and Yogi wasn't there to greet me; missing our morning walk; seeing her empty bed; realizing I still sit a certain way on the couch because I need to leave room for her. Ouch, ouch, ouch....

I've been putting seashells on her little grave and talking to her every morning and evening.

Thank you, friends.

Diana

Hi Diana - I've had the weirdest thoughts too - so don't think you are alone. When my first cat died I kept thinking how cold she must be in the yard where she was buried. Then with Ziggy I almost was happy when I found out that her injury could have been fixed (if the vet had not made fatal errors in judgement) except of course that she was dead.

With my old dog, who I had to euthanize, I found his droppings in the yard (I knew they were his because they were like hairballs - he was licking his joints and injesting the hair) and like you I wasn't sure what to do with them. I have a towel that I wrapped Ziggy in the night before she died, and two months later, I can't get myself to wash it. It's like if we wash these things we kill the last things we do have. Not rational I know, but anyway you get the idea.

I am thinking of you and I know your pain!

Jan.

Hey there Diana,

I was just checking in and seeing how you were doing. I'm glad to see that reading and writing the posts has been helpful. I know for me it truely has been!

You spoke about being afraid to let go of the grief because it would be as if you are letting go of your baby. I remember saying that same exact thing the first week...over and over. It was as if letting go of the pain was equivalent to letting go of Penny. However, I have noticed that letting go of the pain is just that...letting go of the pain. Nothing in a million years would make me let go of Penny. She'll always be my little girl! I think I thought that way about doing things I enjoyed as well. Everything from playing my music, to eating an ice cream sandwich. I felt that if I enjoy my food, then life is alright, which means Penny being gone no longer affects me. But my husband made a comment that was very helpful -- I guess they get homemade cookies on Sunday after dinner as he's deployed, and two Sundays ago he called after dinner, and that is when I told him Penny had passed. Therefore, a few days ago when I was telling him that I couldn't do the things I enjoyed, he said that last Sunday he could not stomach the idea of eating the cookie for the same reason I said...and started leaving the chow hall. But suddenly he thought of Penny at his feet with her puppy eyes just so happy to get "free sniffs" and the hope of a dropped crumb. At that point I realized that the reason our pooches were so happy is because we were happy people who enjoyed life, and Penny wouldn't want it any other way. Now when I eat something tasty, I just smile and imagine her little tail going 100 miles a minute:)

I was also watching the Dog Whisperer today and of course he always speaks of dogs "living in the moment". That they love life for the moment they are in, and I began to think that maybe our dogs want to teach us the same ideas. You can't live in the past or in the what ifs, but in the now. Love life for the moment. That thought has helped me get through some of the guilt and frustration I've been feeling. Yogi had 11 years of amazing, purely happy moments...and she in turn gave you the same. What a gift these little munchkins can be!

Just want you to know I was thinking of you...and Yogi's origami ears (Penny totally had those too!!)
~Shannon

Dear Dianna-

I'm so sorry for your loss. I can remember thinking about how I was going to survive every day and it is so hard. And I wish I could say it gets better but I think it just gets easier. Today it's been two months since I lost my baby and it's still hard. like you it was a freak accident and it coming out of nowhere is what is the hardest. And its a traumatic experience. I've been such a basket case since my loss I have been seeing a therapist and she explained that is not just grief but trauma. We've all been through trauma and it is possible to make yourself sick from grief. I've lost 15 pounds from it. And it's so hard to tell yourself to stop being said and stop crying because as much as you love Yogi is as much as you feel sorrow. but let it out. its okay to cry and scream. Some days are better than others.
This is an amazing source and everyone here is so sweet and comforting. I'm glad you're finding solace here.

I was watching Dogtown the other day and they put up wind chimes in the cemetery. They say every time they chime its from a dog kicking up dirt in Rainbow Bridge running around having fun . I thought that was sweet. It reminds you that they are always there.
my heart goes out to you and your husband.

Shannon said that so well. I feel the same way. Letting go of the pain opens the door to acceptance that allows us to feel all the wonderful memories our furry kids leave us when they depart. Nothing in this world could ever cause me to let go of Goliath either. The years we spent together enriched my life so much and the continuance of remembering all he gave me to remember is what fuels my loving spirit.

Goliath also has those awesome orgami ears. I loved stroking them as he slept in my lap. Though he earned his angel wings, I think he could soar through the Heavens with his ears alone.

One of the things Goliath and I shared were peanutbutter sandwiches. Whenever I had trouble sleeping I would get out of bed and go down to the kitchen. Goliath would follow and watch me as I made a peanutbutter sandwich. We'd head back to bed and share it. Each of us loved that special time. Afterward we'd both feel content and fall asleep together with my arms wrapped around his little self and I would stroke his ears until sleep came. Today when I can't sleep, I still get up and make a peanutbutter sandwich. I close my eyes as I savor each bite and smile as I think about my sweet Goliath, and give thanks.

Much love with lots of hugs,
Beth

Jan, Shannon, 4Bentley, and Beth,

So good to see your messages this morning. I had trouble getting myself out of bed today, feeling like such a big part of my reason for living seems to be gone....Yogi liked to wake us in the morning by "tap dancing" around our bed, battering the sides with her little paws. Then when she heard me lie down on my yoga mat, that was her cue to rush in and stage a love-athon, standing over my head and mashing her chest against my face and smushing her little head around in my hair. It was wild, we'd crack up laughing and beg her to stop. Then, just as suddenly, she'd be done and rush off to attend to other pressing affairs in other parts of the house. She was such a nut.

Thank you my friends for your words about letting go of pain. That was very helpful to me to hear-- you must be right, our fur babies want us to be happy. I realize I've been doing the same thing-- clinging to hurt, feeling disloyal or unloving for any moment of pleasure or laughter, enjoying a bite of food, or even leaving the house (what if she "misses" us?)

Although, oddly, I find that I can't eat meat at all any longer. I wonder if that will wear off? Has that happened to any of you?

Thank you again for all your warmth and friendship-- each of you gives me so much hope and solace.
Diana

Yes Dianaa,

I can relate to that. Every time I lose an animal I cannot bear to eat meat for some time. I know everyone is different, and it's important to eat and keep yourself strong, but I find it, for some time, impossible to do. I suppose we are associating the meat on our plate with our departed animal's flesh.

I loved reading your story about Yogi "attacking" you on your mat. That is so sweet.

hope2heal

Hi Diana---If I may, I would also like to suggest a book on our losses of our babies.It is entitled 'Cold noses at the pearly gates' by Gary Kurz.It has helped me and others.Your in the right forum for sure.My deepest sadness for your loss.
Your forum mate,
Bubba..............

Hi Hope, Hi Bubba,

Thanks for your kind messages. Hope, it's good to have your affirmation-- I think you're right about these unconscious feelings around eating. It's very strong for me right now. A friend suggested we have "sick food" tomorrow, like the sort of thing you eat when you're trying to recuperate from the flu-- she suggested tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I feel so blue, so indifferent to everything-- even when I'm hungry I don't want to eat, but I'll try.

Thank you Bubba, for your recommendation-- I went ahead and ordered the book-- I love the title and all that it implies....

Yesterday there was a little gecko on Yogi's grave, then one ran over Scotty's toes as we went for a little walk--that's never happened to us before! Then that evening there was a little gecko on the wall right across from my desk. All in the same day. Granted, we live in South Florida and there are geckos outside, but that was very, very odd.

I put some more seashells on Yogi's grave tonight and told her I love her.

Thank you, my friends.
Diana

Looks like Yogi's sending you a sign in the form of geckos. Yogi's with you and watching over you. It truely is a "one day at a time" deal. Then one day when you least expect it, something you see, read, or feel will bring you peace with this. I'm still waiting for it myself, I have to believe it's there. Or it could be something as simple as time itself. ...Hugs to you.. Ann

Thanks for your sweet message Ann,

Yogi really was a bit of a gecko herself. After we got her, to my surprise I began to see little echos of her in practically every animal I looked at-- horses, birds, even manatees and elephants! It was something in the movement of their eyes or the way they held their head or just their patient gentleness. I love the way you can see the spirit of the individual in the body of the community, I feel like it's reminding me of her and keeping her so close to me all the time. I read your profile and know that you will start to see signs from your beautiful Arthur very soon.

With hugs,
Diana

Dearest Diana, I'm so sorry for not getting here any sooner. Such a tragic loss of your most precious fur baby girl Yogi. What a personality. You must miss her something fierce especially since she left this earthly plane in that manner. Please accept my deepest condolences and know that I do weep with you. Honest and for true.

Yes, it's very comforting to know it was quick and she did not suffer. Please remember that. Hold onto that, Dear One. It makes no difference how young or old our fur babies or feather babies are when they pass on to The Rainbow Bridge. What does count is their quality of life and not quantity of life as well as their relationship to us. Diana, I've lost so many of my own and others having worked in Animal Rescue and Rehabilitation for almost 30 years and I was a nurse for over 26 years in the human field and there are losses there as well.

Truly, I feel what you're going through because my own current loss was very tragic and sudden, too. It's been a year now and I still grieve and feel so gosh awful horrible about it. I've had the privilege of adopting two retired Greyhounds in the past. First there was Maiden, a female of 6 years old. Then there was Trader, a male of about 3 years old. I miss them a lot and would have another adopted Greyhound right now except that Buddy dog came along and he needed to be rescued. He's wonderful, so dear, sweet, friendly, loving and I've had him for about eight years now. He was somewhere between 6 months and 1 year old when I rescued him.

I love Italian Greyhounds so much and have known a few. It's easy to see how one can fall in love and be so attached to such loving, dear, sweet, adorable fur babies as Italian Greyhounds. Bless you, Diana! You and your dear husband both. You said in your first post that you have no children and wonder if that makes a difference. Well, it could easily make a difference considering not only your relationship to your fur baby girl Yogi but also to losing her.

Diana, please see these articles which I posted right here at LS that may help you a whole lot understanding what you're feeling, why you're feeling and/or behaving the way you are and your husband as well. It's in the area of this board called "Pet Loss Support Resources and Articles" and the post is titled "Your Fur Child Loss Devastation - You Are Not Going Insane." Here's a direct link for you so you can click and it will take you directly to that post and those two articles. The second article regarding the emotions of pet loss has actual case histories of real people, what happened, how they felt and how they got through it.

Here is the link: Your Fur Child Loss Devastation - You Are Not Going Insane.

Please know that you, your husband and Yogi are in my thoughts and prayers as I wing many Angels to you for comfort and guidance thought this most difficult time in your life.

Comforting Hugs, Love and Peace to You, Your Husband and Yogi!!!

Always,
Dottie xoxoxox

PS. I made these a while ago and simply was not able to post to you until now. You see, it's very difficult for me to comfort one such as yourself after I've read what happened and can't even see the screen through my tears much less find anything at all of comfort to offer you. So, I apologize again for being so late getting to you, Diana. I hope you understand and I'll bet you do.

Here is the photo of Yogi that you posted. I took her photo to a program, added some enhancing applications to bring out more of her beauty then used several different types of frames. I'll put down the URL Links for you to click on and bring up the photos which I've type a brief description underneath of what I did. More Comforting Hugs!!!

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MySpotFour/Yogi.jpg
Original as you posted the photo.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MySpotFour/Yogi-2.jpg
Automatic enhanced.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MySpotFour/Yogi-1.jpg
I enhanced applying several features.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-1.jpg
Automatic enhanced simple gold frame.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-5.jpg
Automatic enhanced simple silver frame.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-2.jpg
Automatic enhanced black with gold frame.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-3.jpg
Automatic enhanced black matte frame.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-4.jpg
Automatic enhanced gold antique frame.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-7.jpg
Automatic enhanced double frame with matte.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l179/MyS...ur/Yogi-2-6.jpg
Automatic enhanced triple frame.

I'm so sorry. Such a heartbreaking way to lose her. What a beautiful dog she was. My deepest sympathy.

Good morning Diana,

I too see the echos and beauty in other livng creatures. Today the world is even more magnificent to my eyes and ears as I take in each and every sight. Often times I watch the sun come up and listen to the birds that sing while the deer, raccoons, squirrels, and other small animals come one by one and gather in our backyard which butts up to the lake we live on. Soon I can see the fog and watch as the swans and ducks gracefully glide through to the shoreline. As the sun comes up higher and higher, the fog begins to lift and everything becomes more clear; both visually and spiritually.

Each day is a new beginning for every one of us to reflect on the memories we so cherish, but more importantly to take in the beauty of life and live for today. When tomorrow comes today will be but a memory. Though I may dream of tomorrow and cherish the past, it is today that I live and love for.



May Yogi's spirit bring you sunshine on this beautiful day and keep your heart warm with the wonderful memories she left you as her gift. Feel her loving spirit that is right by your side this day.

Much love and many hugs to you Diana,
Beth

Thank you, Dottie, Steph, and Beth,

What beautiful wishes and beautiful words.

It's almost a week now since I lost my Yogi and I'm starting to perceive small glimmerings, like the tiniest shoots on a twig-- small lessons and gifts-- like the enormous gift of connection and recognition I've felt from you on this website.

I feel like Yogi made my husband and me into a true family and joined us in a deep way with her eternal sweet spirit.
She "introduced" me to so many of our neighbors
She taught me about the pleasures of the outdoors and the beauty of the simplest things, like the pure pleasure of crossing one's paws at the perfect angle, the joy of a nap, the sweetness of a back scratch, and the importance of the unexpected, random kiss on the elbow.

And thank you too, my friends, for those lovely images-- both mental and visual-- they've give me more pleasure to contemplate.

This morning, I trimmed back some of my herb garden-- lavender, rosemary, sage, oregano-- and made a wreathe for Yogi's grave. Now my hands smell of the herbs. We are all intertwined.

Much love to each of you.
Diana

Wow, Beth - what beautiful words.

It's interesting because I did a short talk about the sacredness of animals last weekend, prompted by my Ziggy's death, and I learned that quantum physics scientifically proves that all particles, even those with great distance between them, affect other particles in the world - we are all interconnected.

I often think of this life as a grand illusion - like maybe this is the "dream" and our state in "spirit" is the true state.

I am grateful your words, and also those of appreciating the magnificence of the world we live in, which is not only a world of loss and pain, but one of joy and love also.

Jan.