How Do You Survive The First Day?, coping...maybe Options

[Dianaa]

Hi....
I can hardly believe I'm writing these words-- our sweet little dog Yogi was struck and killed by a speeding driver yesterday afternoon.

She was an eleven year old Italian Greyhound, very vibrant and loving. My husband took her out front to chase the ball-- her favorite thing in the world. Usually she was pretty sensible and stayed on the lawn but for some unknowable reason, yesterday she stepped into the street --at the exact moment this car seemed to materialize from nowhere. If it hadn't been speeding it wouldn't have hit her-- she was practically standing still.

I was inside in my office at home and heard the whole thing happen-- my husband yelling, the impact, all of it. She was killed pretty instantly-- I'm grateful that she didn't suffer. I did scream once at the driver who was crouched by her body-- I couldn't help myself, I screamed with all my might, You killed my dog. At least he didn't hit and run. My husband told him he shouldn't be speeding and that he better scram. I felt like my whole body was shaking apart. I went and stood by her broken body until we could move her, to make sure no other cars hit her.

We don't have children, though I'm not even sure if that really matters, but we adored Yogi. We had her for almost eleven years, since she was six weeks old. Her little muzzle was turning white but she was still completely joyous, vibrant and puppylike. She had one fang that kind of tilted out, so we called her Snagglepuss. She had this way of shivering and giving people "kisses" by wrapping her forepaws around your head and pressing her chest against your face. She loved all sorts of people--even crazy people and scary people that you kind of wished she didn't love so much ;-) I guess all pet-lovers must think this, but what a magical quality she had --it was uniquely her own and I'm crushed, knowing there will never ever be another one like her. They're just like people, aren't they? Each one so unique.

Maybe it's human nature to feel like if we love something so much that somehow it magically protects them, that nothing will ever happen to them. It's such so hard to believe or take in. I don't know. I feel so stupid and lost and like something has torn my heart right out of my chest. It's 2:30 in the afternoon as I write this. I can barely eat. All I seem to do is leak tears and stare. I keep thinking I see her. I keep imagining I heard her little toenails tapping on the floor. She loved to watch us from her beds as we worked. What do you do? How do you not die from grief? I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound grand or melodramatic, I just really mean it. How do you get through the day after they die?

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[Dianaa]

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

[Zita'sMom]

IToday 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.

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.