The New Normal Options

[Gingerella72]

We lost our dog Ginger this past Wednesday Sept. 28th. She was 11 years old and aside from a few minor health issues, was healthy and active. We thought for sure she would have at least 2-3 more years with us.

Wednesday she seemed like her normal self, and when I got home from work at 5:00 pm all was as usual. But as the evening wore on I noticed she acted as if she didn't feel well. She vomited a little, but that didn't worry me because she was one of those unfortunate dogs that is inclined to eat her own poop and if we weren't diligent about keeping the yard clean, would sneak a little "Ginger Snack" from time to time. Sometimes it would make her throw up, but afterwards would be fine. So, I thought this was just one of those occasions. I took her outside in case she had any more to throw up, and noticed her panting really heavy. She then laid down on the ground, exhausted. Still, no red flags went up for me at this time.

A half hour later I noticed her walking around the house slowly, still panting, with her head down as if she wanted to try and retch up something. I took her back outside and after a bowel movement she came over near me and flopped down on the ground as if her legs wouldn't support her anymore. THEN I started to get worried. My first thought was that maybe it had something to do with her ending a run of steroidal medicine she'd been on for a couple of months for a skin infection. The doses had been tapered down but that was the only thing I could think of that could be causing this abnormal behavior. I got online real quick and learned that steroid withdrawal can be dangerous in dogs, so I called the vet clinic and their after-hours answering service picked up. I asked that the vet on-call contact me right away because this was an emergency. I brought Ginger back inside, where she flopped down on the floor next to me, and we sat there for 20 agonizing minutes waiting for the vet to call. By now I was seriously freaked out, heart pounding, trying to figure out what was wrong with our doggie. He finally called me and I tried to explain her symptoms over the phone. He asked me some questions, and I brought up about the steroid meds. He didn't think that was it but without seeing her he couldn't say, of course. He asked me if I wanted to have him look at her tonight (at an after-hours charge, of course), and I hesitated. I was fighting with myself, part of me feeling like I was overreacting. Then he asked me if her stomach looked or felt bloated at all. I thought that was an odd question, and I answered no, because how in the world do you tell if a dog (who admittedly was a little overweight) is bloated or not? I equated bloat with the human kind of bloat, like when you eat too much fast food. Uncomfortable, but not serious. He said to try to see if she would take a little food, watch her overnight, and bring her in in the morning if I thought she still wasn't doing good.

The bloat thing had me curious and so after hanging up I hopped online again and looked up "bloat in dogs." Oh my god, did I get a rapid and heartwrenching education in those few minutes, and I called him back and said yes, he needed to see her right away tonight because I couldn't make that judgement call on whether she was bloated or not. So by now it's 9:00 pm and I'm on my way to the clinic to meet him. I left a note for my husband, who was in night class, to drive up to the clinic if we weren't home by the time he got home. He must have just missed us because he drove up about 5 minutes after I got there.

The vet arrived and with the tech did an initial exam, and he questioned me more thoroughly on everything she did that day, ate, when she pooped, etc. He could see that she was obviously in distress but no immediate diagnosis was screaming out at him. He asked us to leave her there with him that night as he wanted to do blood tests and xray, he thought it might be pancreitis. At first I misunderstood and thought he was just going to keep her there overnight and do the tests in the morning, but he said no, he was going to do them right away that night and that he would call us with the results. So my husband and I left to go home. I didn't even pet her goodbye, we just left. We had no idea that it was going to be the last time we saw her.

He called us at home about 10:30 pm and said the xrays showed bloat and the beginnings of twisted stomach happening and he needed to do emergency surgery right away. We said yes of course and then the wait began. He then called us at 12:30 am with the bad news that she had died, and that he hadn't even had a chance to operate because they had trouble getting her to take the anasthesia because she was in so much shock and distress. By the time he called us he had already been doing CPR on her for 15 minutes to try and revive her. My husband, who spoke with him on the phone a little bit told me he thought the vet sounded shaken himself, and that he'd said in all the 30 years he's been a vet, that this case would stay with him for a long time.

The next day, Thursday, we were both pretty much just catatonic. I stayed home from work and my husband canceled classes. We went to the clinic and spoke with the vet and he reassured me that there wasn't anything I did wrong, given the circumstances I did all I could do and couldn't have done more. I just couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that she was actually gone. I'm still having problems accepting that. The pain is so acute it's overwhelming and I burst into tears at the drop of a hat. I can't walk anywhere in the house or in the yard where I'm not constantly reminded of her. Her toys are still strewn around the house. Her bed (two old comforters folded up) is still in the hallway right outside our bedroom door. Her harness is still in the backseat of my car from when I transported her to the clinic that night. I couldn't stand to see any of these reminders, but I couldn't bring myself to remove them out of sight either.

Well Friday, I stayed home from work again, still completely unable to grasp reality. I was still bursting into tears out of nowhere so I knew I couldn't be at work, but I forced myself to get up and do stuff around the house and fell into kind of a numb trance as I cleaned. I think it was just me caving into the shock and denial of it all, because later that afternoon I felt almost normal like nothing had happened. When my husband came home from work he jolted me with the news that maybe to help with the healing, we should go be around dogs. He wanted to go to the humane society and just look at the dogs, not to find a new one, but just to be around their doggyness. I relented and said yes.

So we go up there, me ready to break into tears, and inevitably he wants to see a dog so we get the staff to bring the dog to the consulting room and my husband got the doggy hugs and kisses he apparently needed to heal, and a few bite marks (it was a very rambunctious puppy) and then we left. We tried (or least I tried) to pretend everything was normal by going out to eat and renting some movies. We also have 4 cats so we spent the evening watching movies with all our cats piled on top of us, and that was healing, but the glaring absence of our Dog-Dog was so hard to accept.

Saturday, my husband said maybe we should think about getting another dog. I couldn't believe he was even suggesting it, and Ginger hadn't even been gone 3 days yet! I felt betrayed and also felt that he must not be feeling grief over her as deeply as I am. Our lives had just been turned upside down and now he wants to create more heartbreak and chaos by replacing Ginger. I was distraught and I guess wanting to feel that maybe having a doggy presence in the house again would help me heal that I went along with him back up to the humane society. He said he didn't necessarily want to get another dog so soon, but he wanted to interact with different breeds to feel them out, or "test drive" them for when we are ready again. Well the one dog he was interested in had been adopted earlier that day so we wandered around the other kennels again and then saw a dog that hadn't been there the day before. She was immediately different than the other dogs in that she was quiet, not barking, and when we knelt down to let her sniff our hands she put her face against the bars so that we could rub her cheek.

So into the consulting room she goes with us and it's obvious she really, really liked me. She's an older dog, they estimated her to be about 5 years old, and a german shorthaired pointer. Very affectionate, very gentle, and very obviously longing for someone to take her home. We spent a lot of time with her in the room, and then we asked the staff if we could take her outside in the yard to see how she reacts in other situations. It's obvious that she's had some hunting training and is generally well behaved. We leave and go home, and spend the evening talking about everything that has happened, me frequently bursting into tears, and incredulously contemplating bringing a new dog into our lives so soon. To distract ourselves, we got online to research about german shorthaired pointers because we were unfamiliar with the breed and its temperment. We've never had a pure-bred dog before (and it's obvious that this dog is purebred, not a mix). Ginger was a "Heinze-57 variety", with some german shepherd, possibly some chow and possibly some sharpei.

Sunday comes and my husband seems completely set on bringing this dog home, now. I'm still so depressed and still having trouble accepting that Ginger is gone.....on top of all that I feel such a huge amount of guilt. Guilt that I didn't get her to the vet sooner that night, guilt that I didn't even pet or hug her before we left the clinic, guilt that I'm actually contemplating getting another dog already. I trust my husband's judgement much more than I trust my own sometimes (he's less emotional, more stable) and so I allowed his cautious enthusiasm and hope to buoy me up. We spend a couple of hours cleaning the house, dog-proofing it (no need to proof it with Ginger, she knew the ropes) and me feeling like I was in the Twilight Zone. Then we go back up to the humane society and ask to see the dog again. We also asked if we could "test" her around cats, because we'd read this breed, being a hunting dog, can see cats as prey if they haven't been raised around them and we had no idea of her former history, so they let us take her into the lobby to see how she'd react to the resident lobby cats. She had no reaction at all, didn't even bat an eyelash at them so that was a good sign. I told my husband that if we took this dog home and she harmed our cats, that I would never forgive myself, or him.

So moving along, we took a flying leap off a cliff and went ahead and adopted her. We named her Sasha. We brought her home and slowly introduced her to the cats, and thankfully our fear of her harming them was a non-issue. Two of the cats took to her right away, the other two will take some time to come around. We spent the rest of the day getting to know her, and showing her around the house.

Monday, yesterday, I went back to work and during my downtimes went searching out for pet loss support advice because I was still so in the depths of grief for Ginger, with a heaping amount of guilt and confusion over Sasha coming into our lives so quickly. I couldn't reconcile the two together, and last night let my husband know how upset I was over everything. He was taken aback, because he can't relate to my feelings of still not being able to accept that she's gone. He can process his feelings and come to terms with reality much speedier than I can. I had told him, before we got Sasha, that one of my fears was that I would start to resent the dog for not being Ginger. Yesterday I started to have some of those feelings, seeing her on Ginger's bed, seeing her in Ginger's yard, sniffing around Ginger's things, drinking out of Ginger's water bowl, etc. etc. It's not fair to Sasha but I couldn't help it. I told him that I also resented him taking advantage of me like that, knowing I was in an emotionally vulnerable state, and leaving the final judgement call on whether we got Sasha or not up to me (I was the one who said the final yes, let's do it. I really did not know what I was saying). He should have known how conflicted and upset I was and just said no, you're right, it's too soon. He reassured me that he was sad too, missed Ginger terribly, but insisted that Sasha would be good for us, and that we would be good for her. He asked me if I wanted him to take her back to the humane society and re-surrender her. That got me even more mad because now she's totally at home in our house, loves us to pieces and how fair would that be to her? And how could he ask me to make that decision now, after we'd already made the committment? He could tell that I was pissed so he said if it hurt me too much to be around her that much to care for her, take her for walks, etc that he'd be ok with assuming total responsibility of her care until I was ready. I didn't want that answer either, but I was so upset nothing he could have said at that point would have been right. At least he acknowledged my feelings, apologized, and agreed with me that perhaps I was right, that it really was too soon.

So that brings us to today. I'm at work right now writing this. I went home over lunch and spent the hour outside with Sasha, in the serenity of the yard. The weather is nice, leaves are falling everywhere, and it was quiet. Sasha came over to me and I hugged her and started bawling for Ginger again. It almost felt like Ginger was there in the yard with us. It was a little bit healing. Registering for this site, and writing this all out has helped too. Maybe I just needed to get it all out. Sasha is very clingy and seems to need to be touching me at all times when she's not sleeping or running around the yard. Today I could see through my grief a little for the first time that maybe she can sense my distress and is trying to help me. I don't know. I'm still so hesitant to try and create a bond with her, like it's a betrayal to Ginger. I'm not ready to let go of her yet. I'm not ready to try and forge new feelings for another dog. But maybe she will help me to start releasing some of this awful grief, the emptiness and guilt. I even feel guilty for wanting to release the guilt so soon, as if I haven't punished myself properly enough.

Sorry for the book, but I've been aching to write all the details out for days. It's all so raw and confusing, dealing with the loss of our Dog-Dog (one of her many nicknames) in such a traumatic and unexpected way while simultaneously dealing with getting used to a new, strange dog in the house, a dog that doesn't know our ways and we don't know hers. Yesterday I was feeling so mad and resentful that I was being forced to learn a new dog so soon. I'm not really sure where I'm at today. Tomorrow it will be one week since Ginger died. A part of me still cannot believe it. For a long, long time to come I think I'll still be waiting for Ginger to be there, to come trotting into the room, to hear her jump off the couch, to hear her toes clicking across the wood floors, to see her holding her rope toy in her mouth wanting us to throw it. That's another thing that's unnerving with Sasha, she's a very, very different dog than Ginger but some things she does are similar and it disturbs me. Her sighs sound just like Ginger's sighs. Sneezes too. I was in the basement and heard her walking across the floor above and for a split second I thought it was Ginger. When I sit on the couch Sasha lays next to me, her rump pressing against my leg, in the same position Ginger would do. Instead of being comforting, it's disturbing.

Just when I feel that I'm stronger and can get through this, it all comes crashing down on me again and I feel that I'm in a worse place than the night she died. Yesterday I totally felt like I was regressing, not progressing. I've been through pet loss before, in 2007 I had to put my beloved 17-yr old Panther cat to sleep after battling kidney failure. But that was different. He had no more life left in him, and I knew it was time to let him go. I had closure. I got to hold and comfort him before it happened, and we got to see his body afterwards. I had never experienced anything so gut-wrenching in my life up to that point (I've never had anyone I was really close to die before). This time though, it's different because Ginger had A LOT of life left in her, and this completely hit us out of the blue.

To think that a perfectly healthy dog could die from a freak occurrence like bloat in a matter of hours is hard to grasp. I blame myself. What kind of dog owner am I, to never have heard of this phenomenon before, when it's (that we've since learned) the second leading cause of death in dogs following cancer!? Now that I know about bloat (or twisted stomach, or gastric torsion), I know a lot of things we could have done differently with Ginger to prevent this from happening. I guess it's good that we know it now, and have that knowledge for other dogs, but did we have to learn the lesson so harshly? If you've never heard of it either, please look it up online and educate yourself. I never want anyone to have to go through what we did with this.

Thank you for listening.

Betsy

Ginger:

[moon_beam]

Hi, Betsy, please permit me to offer you my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Ginger. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. Losing a companon suddenly is very traumatic.

Betsy, there is no way you can ever prepare yourself for a sudden condition of bloat. There are times when it happens slowly and the bloat belly is not obvious. You did the very right thing: once you realized that something was wrong you called the vet AND you got your Ginger to the vet. From what you shared with us even the vet had to take x-rays to make the diagnosis of bloat because the physical symptoms were not visibily obvious. Bloat is not a condition that you can "control", Betsy, even with the most stringent forms of prevention.

Your beloved Ginger knows that you love her. You did everything that is humanly and humanely possible to give her a happy and healthy earthly journey. None of us ultimately have control over the circumstances that will eventually physically separate us from our companions. Unfortunately guilt is one of the many emotions we experience during our grief journey, and it can be one of the hardest to reconcile. I hope and pray that you will be able to feel a peace in your heart and mind that what happened with your beloved Ginger is NOT your fault.

Ginger, this grief journey is one of "adjustment" to the physical absence of your beloved Ginger. To use terms like "clousure" and "moving on" imply forgetting about your beloved Ginger. This is totally impossible. There is no way that we can ever go on with our lives as though nothing significant has happened. You have lost the physical presence of your beloved Ginger under very sudden traumatic circumstances, and there is no way you can just put it behind you. It is a permanent part of your life's experiences now. The good news is that your beloved Ginger is forever with you in your heart and your memories. Her sweet Living Spirit continues to share your earthly journey now just as she always has and always will. Not having her physical presence with you is a very painful adjustment - - both emotionally and physically - - and this is just going to take time - - one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time.

Some people think that adopting another companion immediately after a loss can help lessen the emotional pain of the adjustment journey. Our beloved companions also see our need for devoted comfort, and from what you have shared with us it sounds to me like Ginger brought Sasha to you - - her personality, her need to be with you, her gentleness in offering you comfort. Betsy, it's okay to accept Sasha - - I promise you it will NEVER diminish your love for Ginger. Sasha can NEVER take Ginger's place. The difficulty is the timing.

"Just when I feel that I'm stronger and can get through this, it all comes crashing down on me again and I feel that I'm in a worse place than the night she died."

Betsy, this grief journey has so many ups and downs, twists and turns and turnarounds. This journey is frequently referred to as a horror roller coaster ride. I wish there were an easier way to navigate all the ups and downs but unfortunately there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button to press to speed up the process or make it go away. One of the many important things for you to remember is that you are NOT alone in your journey. Each of us here do understand what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

Betsy, thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Ginger with us. She is a sweet little girl. I hope you will have a peaceful evening, Betsy. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Betsy, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[merlin96]

Hi Betsy,

I just wanted to add a reply to your post to tell you how truly sorry I am for what you are going through right now. Losing a beloved companion animal is never easy under any circumstances and losing them suddenly like you lost Ginger, with no warning and so unexpectedly, adds a whole other dimension to the process. I think you put it very well when you compared it to your earlier loss of your Panther cat. While it's never easy, he was older, you felt like he had an opportunity to live out a more normal life span, you were more prepared for it, and you had a chance to say good-bye. While undoubtedly you grieved for him too, this just came so out of the blue and seems so unfair to cut Ginger's life short. Added to that, you feel that somehow, there's something you could have done differently. There isn't, of course, because bloat is just one of those horrible things that afflicts our loved ones and takes them down cruelly and sometimes we just have nothing to say about it. As Moon-Beam pointed out, even the vet had to x-ray to diagnose the bloat, so it was not visible. And you got her to the vet that night so you did everything you could do. I can understand your feelings about Sasha and it seems that your husband maybe grieves differently that you do, or maybe is looking to get past his grief by getting another dog. We can never replace one dog with another but we can honor their memory by giving another dog a home who needs one, so maybe that's one way you can look at what you have done by bringing Sasha into your home. I am so very sorry this happened to you and your husband, Betsy. Ginger was so beautiful and I will keep you all in my prayers. Take care.

Valerie

[Gretta's Mom]

Hello Betsy,

I am SO sorry about the sudden passing the precious Ms Gingerella. The others are right - bloat often comes on so suddenly that no one, not even a vet, recognizes the symptoms in time to save life. It goes from 'spitting up' to life threatening in a matter of minutes. Like the others have said, there is NOTHING more or different you could have done for Ginger Dog that you didn't do. Who even KNOWS about bloat until it's right up in their faces? The only reason I know about it is that I thought my old chocolate lab Gretta was bloating after she'd eaten a pound of dark chocolate. (She wasn't - mercifully.)

Ginger will always be with you. Love is infinite - in both directions - past and future. You and ginger have loved each other since time began and will do so until time ends. For a ever so brief time, these special spirit-animals find us - their one-and-only - among all the millions of people in the universe, and come to live with us for a precious while. Not every person-animal combination is a soul-match, but I can sense from your loving words that you and Ginger are. Moonbeam sometimes says that you've exchanged part of each other's souls - and it's true. Gretta is the first pet I had as an adult. I love her more than anything or anyone else in the world. And she's gone - taken by old age and a strange neurological collapse.

Oh yes, the shock-and-awe time. Like you've been shot through the heart with a highpowered rifle and can't understand how you could still be alive. After a while, for me it turned into the 'robot walk' - ghost-walking through the 'stuff' you have to do to live you ordinary life - and most of the time either being in tears or fighting them back. My world felt SO empty. All the love in my heart had nowhere to go. Empty arms with no one to hug. It was HORRIBLE - still is.

I can so relate to your story about getting another dog right away. Although I waited 3 weeks, I, too, felt that I was being untrue to Gretta. I had promised that no other dog would ever use her special ortho dog bed. And three weeks later here was a giant lab-newfie, and a BOY to boot, doing exactly that. I do believe that Gretta saw my emptiness from the Perfect World and sent Rufus to me, but, like you, I had a very hard time truly loving him. After a couple of days, I had a 'talk' with him and told him that he was NOT a replacement dog, that he was loved for himself, and that he would never lack for a home again. (I was mostly talking to myself.) But Rufus the trooper kept trying to show me that he loved me - in his giant, boy-dog way. Weeks went by and I had to go out of town and leave him with the woman who had fostered him for 1.5 years. I was SO sad. I thought - here I am keeping this giant dog cooped up in an urban townhouse (small one) and taking him out walking 3 miles a day, thinking that was enough to him. The foster mom has 40 acres for him to run in and she loves him even more than I did. i seriously considered letting her have him back.

Moonbeam and Thomas's Dad here on this site asked me some very hard questions: would I be happier if I didn't have the day in and day out responsibility of walking and caring for Rufus? Would I be happy if I came home and he weren't there to greet me? And many others. Of course, I wouldn't - but there was this tremendous sadness and guilt load I was carrying about Gretta. I loved that dog more than anyone or anything else in the world. Where did Rufus fit in? After another few weeks, my heart finally turned over. I realized i really DID love Rufus. I really DIDN't want to be without him. Slowly, s-l-o-w-l-y, we've come to love each other. I can even call him one of my favorite nicknames for Gretta ("Dude").

Betsy, Cinderella-Dog-Dog is right there beside you, just like she always has been. The only thing different is that you can't see or hear or touch her. But she can see you and hear you and touch you - just like before she disappeared. She's only a breath away. She loves you even more than when she could see you. And now SHE'S taking care of YOU! It's possible - even likely - that she sent your new doggie to you becasue she saw how devastated you are. No one, no dog, no any being will EVER take the place of MS Cinderella in your heart. For you two have exchanged a piece of each other's souls and you will carry them with you until you are reunited in the Perfect World - where there is no separation - ever.

Betsy, please be easy on yourself. Second - third- and fourth-guessing just drive you even crazier than you already are. As the others have said, every person's grief journey is different. My wonderful shelter-director neighbor said to me when I worried about 3 weeks being too soon, that everyone has his or her own time. For some it's the same day, for some it's year, for some it's never.

One thing for sure, Betsy, you'll never be alone. Your lightning strike family is here to hold your hand and wipe your tears and cheer you on all day and night, every day and night. We DO get it - we're going through the roller coaster of horrors together. We keep each other comforted and reassured and treasured during our worst times - and rejoice and cheer during our best times. Welcome to the family, Betsy. If only the admission ticket didn't hurt so much!

Blessing and peace,

Gretta's mom

[Gingerella72]

Thank you everyone, writing all this out was a load off my shoulders, though it doesn't make the ache go away as you can understand. When I came home from work tonight my husband told me that today he felt much more emotional and was grieving Ginger in a way he hadn't yet, and agreed with me that we had been too quick to jump into bringing Sasha home, that it was a knee-jerk reaction on his part. I felt bad that he was feeling so sad, but also admittedly, selfishly, glad that he was finally feeling some of the things I'd been feeling from the start. Just goes to show how different we all handle our emotions I guess.

I find myself going through these stupid timelines in my head, in a loop. Like, "the last time I dusted that table, Ginger was still alive." "The last time I filled that water bottle, Ginger was still alive." "When I bought that carton of eggs, Ginger was still alive" and on and on until it drives me nuts. I did the same thing with Panther years ago, I specifically remember it being months before I could bring myself to dust a certain table because, "the last time I dusted that table, Panther was still alive." Like making that change would mean erasing their presence somehow. Over this horrible, weird weekend, I forced myself to face some things it took me longer to with Panther, such as vacuuming up all the dust bunnies in the corners....it was hard, because of course Ginger's fur is part of those dust bunnies and I felt like I was destroying her. I totally understand why some people feel the need to keep their homes, or part of them, completely untouched following a death, like a shrine. Like, if I change just ONE thing, that means I have to accept they're truly gone. I even cried when I was cleaning up all the poop out of the yard on Saturday, especially The Last Poop. I'd be afraid to tell a psychiatrist that little tidbit for fear I'd be slapped into a straight jacket.

I'm glad to know you all totally get this, of course I can't talk about it all on this level with my family (except my husband) or co-workers because while they say they understand, they really don't. My boss was totally understanding with me for taking two days off work to deal with this, which was a relief, but it's not like I lost a child (to them) or a parent or something, you know. Of course I lost a child. We can't have kids, our pets ARE our children.

Gretta's Mom, I understand what you mean about feeling like you're doing Rufus a disservice by not being able to provide the space or means to give him the exercise such a big dog needs... Sasha, being a german shorthaired pointer, is a breed that needs tons of physical exercise and in just the two days it's been since we've had her, I'm already starting to wonder if we'll be able to keep up the activity level that she needs. We don't hunt, but she's got some hunting/retrieving training in her from previous owners and what she really needs is a big open field to just run and run and run off-leash but we can't provide that. The fact that she's older is hopefully in our favor, and won't need as much exertion as a pup would.

I also find myself wanting to automatically say some Ginger-specific nick names and phrases towards her, and feeling like it's wrong, those names and phrases are sacred. Let alone, catching myself almost calling her Ginger a couple of times. It's just still all so confusing.

Merlin, thank you for saying that I did all I could do for Ginger. The vet said it, my husband has said it, and on the surface I know it myself, but it's still going to take some time to accept that this was 100% out of my hands. I don't have a human child but I think all mothers must feel this way when they lose their child.

Moonbeam, what I meant by closure with Panther is that we had more time to process it, come to terms with it, in the last months of his life when he was really struggling with renal disease. Making the decision to put him to sleep was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life but I knew it was right, knew it was time. It was unfair of me to try and eke out a few more weeks or months from him when he was so obviously ready to go. The day before it happened we spent the entire night holding him, comforting him, taking final photos of him, clipping some of his long hair off his tail to keep. The next day we asked the vet who would be doing it to, when he was gone, pull out the two white whiskers (he was an all black cat except for those two white whiskers) that we wanted to put with the fur we clipped to keep. When it was over we got to see his body and cry over him some more and say our final, final goodbyes. It hurt like hell but there was a finality to it, a peaceful resignation. With Ginger of course, there is none of that. I couldn't bear to go back to the clinic that night to see Ginger, possibly all cut up (I didn't know at that time that they hadn't even had the chance to operate) and the vet asked us on the phone what we wanted to do with her, if we wanted her back, or cremated. We had cremated Panther and have him in an urn on a shelf, so of course we chose to do the same with Ginger. But when they call and say her urn is ready to be picked up, it's going to be so unreal to go back to the clinic and get her, knowing that when we took her in we fully expected to be taking her out again alive. With Panther we took him in, knowing we would be leaving without him alive. I know you understand all this but I just felt the stupid need to clarify myself.

Tomorrow night will be the one week anniversary of Ginger's death and I know I'll be spending the entire night going through the whole time line in my head of how that night played out. "It's 7:30, last week at this time Ginger was doing this." And so forth.

[Misha's Mommy]

Betsy,

I'm so sorry about Ginger's sudden loss. What you are feeling is so familiar to me. They are things I've felt, and continue to feel. I believe we all feel and think these things when we lose someone we love so very much.

Those timelines..."The last time I filled that water bottle, Ginger was still alive."...I don't do it as often now, but I had those thoughts A LOT for the first 2 or 3 weeks after I lost my Bowie. And dusting or vacuuming...I haven't been able to do it yet. I went to a pet loss support group last night and asked my husband to vacuum a couple of rooms while I was gone. I couldn't do it - I feel like cleaning means I'm erasing Misha and Bowie. I've gotten to the point where I've accepted that they are gone. I've come out of that "fog", out of "zombie mode", but I still can't clean - and it's been 5 weeks since I lost Bowie and 8 since I let Misha go.

Like you, my dogs were my children, as I don't have any. Like you, my husband didn't appear to grieve either of their losses and I couldn't understand how he didn't. Like you, I cried while picking up Bowie's poop...especially the last one.

I finally changed my bedsheets 3 weeks after I lost Bowie. I collected every Bowie hair I could find on our sheets before I stripped the bed. I felt a little crazy doing it, but I couldn't NOT do it. I seem to be stupidly obsessed with collecting their hair. Both Misha and Bowie had short, straight hair that's fairly easy to find everywhere. I loved Bowie's hair. He had such a beautiful coat and every strand I find, I just think is so pretty. I can't dispose of it. Sometimes I feel I'm a little nuts to be obsessed about this...

I'll be thinking of you and Ginger...

misha's (and bowie's) mommy

[Cass]

I am so sorry for your loss. If you read Jake's story, I think it is similar. I have alot of the same feelings that you are. I am having a real hard time getting over the guilt and saddness that I feel. My husband thought that it was best if we get a new dog as well. He thought it would help with the healing process. He is not dealing with this the same way. I had Jake before I had my children and before I met him. He has said get over it and you have children to take care of. I am far from any friends and family. I stay home with my little girl. It is extremely hard not to think about it over and over and over again.
Since Jake, my days have run together. I have very little interest in doing anything, let alone eating. I called and spoke with a counselor today, which has helped me feel a little better. Just know that Ginger loved you unconditionally. She would not want to see you upset. I know this is very hard in a time like this. I hear it myself, yet have a hard time practing it myself. My mom said you should think about it for a couple days and then get over it. I don't think she understands the level of guilt I have. Other family members, don't understand either. That is why I turned to this message board for some support myself. I found myself doing the same thing. I have played the day over and over and over in my head. I have cried so much I become numb. Just know that there are other people out there feeling the same way that you do. I think of you and your loss and I will pray that you soon find happiness once again soon.
Take Care,
Cassie

[leejaye]

Dear Betsy, I don't know that i can add anything of value to the wonderful words the other forum members have given you, but just wanted to say I am so so sorry for the loss of Ginger, sending you some huge hugs and a wish for a moment of peace today, Leejaye

[Gingerella72]

Yesterday was the one week anniversary of Ginger leaving us and I managed to get through the night relatively unscathed. I started a list of things to remember about Ginger (inspired by Misha's Mommy's list) and it's a 4 page Word document at this point and still growing, my husband and I adding things as we think of them. I think it's helping.

Later in the evening I sat on the couch with Sasha by my side watching a movie to distract me from constantly looking at the clock and replaying last Wednesday over and over again in my head. I did cry a little, when I called Sasha Ginger and then realized what I'd said. Except for that, the evening was tear-free....the ache is still there and will be for awhile.

Sasha is turning out to be a godsend, really. Moonbeam, thank you for suggesting that it was Ginger who sent her to us. While it still feels so surreal to have a different dog in the house, I do think it is helping. Each day we learn a little more about her quirks and ways and she is learning about ours. While our normal routine has had to change with her addition, it's not anything that isn't doable. I'm sure before long the awkwardness of it all will wear off and it will feel like we've always done it this way. At least I hope so.

Something else I did last night was take Sasha outside, and I walked to the 3 specific places in the yard where Ginger was that last night, knelt down at each one, and hugged Sasha. I don't really know why but it felt right somehow. Maybe it was to make up for the fact that I didn't hug or pet Ginger goodbye when we left the clinic that night. I can't get out of my head the way Ginger looked at us while she was standing on the exam table, the look in her eyes.

Something that is hard to get used to is the fact that Sasha doesn't seem to know how to play with toys. And Ginger was ALL about the toys, and she was such a goofy, playful dog. Sasha shows no interest in chasing balls or chewing on things. She's a very serious, somber dog, but the fact that she is so gentle and affectionate shows she obviously was very well taken care of and loved by someone....but I've never encountered a dog, ever, who did not have any interest in playing. Who wouldn't play with toys with their dog, or who would purposely train their dog to not play? We just don't get it. We haven't even heard her bark or growl yet. Just a few whimpers here and there. We're so used to having a playful dog that it's a little unnerving.

Each day gets a tiny bit better, and I'm sure I'll back track now and again, but overall I know I'll be able to bear this. Tomorrow we'll be taking Sasha to get microchipped, so that will make it feel more like she's a permanent member of the family. Any resentment or fears I had about her have vanished. While I'm still really, really aching for my Ginger, I'm now glad that Sasha is with us. Thank you all so much for your kind words and wisdom, it has helped tremendously.

[Cass]

Betsy,
I too adopted another dog. His name is Lenny, he is alot different than Jake. He is a 5 year old lab mix. He is goofy and has alot of play in him. His owner passed away and he was moved around the last 6 months. He has gotten out of the house on us a few times and runs for a field. I wonder if he is looking for his Master. I am sure he is wondering what is going on too. I was wondering myself if Jake had sent him to us. I asked him the other day. That is funny that Moon Beam mentioned that. I think it is true. I think Ginger and Jake know exactly what we are needing at this moment and maybe it is there way of telling us that they are here with us, maybe not in body put surely in spirit. I hope you day is a good one! I will put a pic of Jake on when I can figure it out.
Cassie

[moon_beam]

Hi, Betsy, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. In reading your post I can see your precious Ginger helping to ease your deep grief - - with the help of her new sister - - Sasha. One of the many things we need in our grief journey is hope, and your beloved Ginger has given you a path for feeling hope once again with Sasha. My heart is brimming with joy for you, Betsy.

Remember that Sasha is going through an adjustment, too. She may need you to show her how to play -- to be happy. Ginger has the many wonderful memories of her happy life with you - - perhaps she sent Sasha to you so that the both of you could find a common happiness together. Just remember to take things one day at a time - - both you and Sasha will be okay, I promise.

And please don't feel sad about calling your Sasha by Ginger's name. This is perfectly normal - - and it's a compliment to Ginger for sending you a loving, attentive companion. Belive me when I say - - this happens to many of us, including me.

I do know first-hand how our beloved companions direct our paths to future joy with another companion, so what I share with you is from first-hand experience.

I hope today is being kind to you and your precious Sasha. Please know you both are in my thoughts and prayers, and will look forward to knowing how you both are doing, and sharing your treasured memories of your beloved Ginger.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

[Gingerella72]

Today marks 2 weeks now since Ginger left us. It has not been a good day, have been in tears most of it, trying to hide it because I'm at work. When I was home over lunch and opened the mail I saw the vet clinic sent us a sympathy card with a packet of Forget-Me-Not flower seeds in it. We had picked up her urn on Monday.

I don't know if I'm so choked up today because it's 2 weeks today, or if the reality of it all is just settling in a little deeper. I've gone a few days without tearing up at all, so I thought perhaps I was through the worst of it but I guess not.

Sasha has had to wear a cone the last few days, and probably for many more, because her spay incision was not healing properly due to her licking constantly.....so it's been hard to form a proper bond with her because it's so hard to hug and kiss her with the cone on. And the cats are terrified of the cone, and who blames them, having this strange dog face encased in this huge plastic thing looming at them when she tries to sniff them. We're trying to laugh about it, how comical she looks, but in reality it is the most annoying thing ever as she keeps bouncing into the walls with it as she tries to turn a corner, and both my husband's and my legs are banged up from her bumping into us with it on. I'm sure she's fed up with it too.

I just wish things could get back to normal, and by normal I mean with our Dog-Dog here with us but that's not possible I know. The cats keep giving me these looks like "Our Doggie knew how to do things right." Because of the cone it's going to take even longer for them to warm up to Sasha, and I'm worried it may never happen actually.

On Monday I posted some photos of Ginger and Sasha to my blog, if you want to take a look the link is here: http://confessionsofawannabehousewife.blog...ggy-photos.html

[Cass]

Betsy,
I too passed the dreaded two week period with my Jake. I relived everything yesterday. It was a really hard day. I just wanted to say what a beautiful dog Ginger was. It was really nice to see her with your kitties. Wow, they really liked each other. That is so nice. Sasha looks like a real nice dog as well. She is beautiful. I hope this day gets easier for you. Take Care,
Cass

[moon_beam]

Hi, Betsy, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing and the wonderful pictures of your beloved Ginger and your new precious fuchild Sasha. Their eyes and souls reflect the love and care you give to them, Betsy. They are blessed to have you as their Forever Mom.

I'm so sorry that Sasha has had some healing issues with her incision. Licking can induce infection into the site, and if she picks at her stitches - - that is a definite no no. This too shall pass - - it is a temporary inconvenience -- and a royal pain for her to wear for sure. I will look forward to sharing your news when the "contraption" is finally removed.

Betsy, this grief journey is filled with bad days, some decent days, some numb days, and some really bottomless pit days. Two weeks, unfortunately, is only the BEGINNING of your adjustment journey. One of the many things for you to remember is that we are here for you through every step you take - - we are here to share the difficult days, the so so decent days, the days when you don't know really how you're feeling, and the days when you think you just can't go on. I promise you, Betsy, you will endure through this journey, and we are here to offer you both our individual and collective strength and encouragement to help in your journey.

Thank you so very much for sharing your beloved Ginger with us, and your new precious Sasha. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Betsy, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam