While it is true that I have made my peace with Luba's passing, and am enjoying life and all of it's little miracles (Falkor is one of them!) again, there is one nagging issue that just won't leave me: My Luba died alone. Well, not alone, the vet clinic was full of very caring people, but her mama wasn't there.

I've read so many posts of so many goodbyes, and it breaks my heart and angers me that Luba and I were denied this very important farewell. Perhaps it is like my boyfried said "She died surrounded by people who cared for her, and she was very sick and probably was too "out of it" to feel abandoned." Perhaps.

In retrospect, I am very glad that she died on a Saturday, when the vet clinic was full of staff members who, as I observed while on a later visit with Falkor, are phenomenal in their handling of the furbabies. Had she died the next day, or during the night, I would have never known that she died within a half an hour of the vet speaking on the phone with me. She had just been hand-fed, and was actually considered "stabilized". The vet had gone on his luch break, and came back and she had just curled up and died. A heart attack had hit her already much weakened heart.

I had not seen her in two days because they did not want to risk exciting her. The plan was to get her home to me. Or, if she did not improve by Monday, she would have been sent across province to a specialist. I would have put myself into debt for life for that dog, but it never came to that.

Anyways, maybe this is the last bit I have to work through before I hit complete acceptance. She's gone. It's ok. I'm ok. But the way she went still haunts...

Dear Steph,
That is just so sad that you did not get to see and be with precious Luba for 2 days before she died. Maybe she was as your boyfriend said, to out of it to know you were not there.

Sometimes I think the vets are wrong about us upsetting our babies by coming to see them. I would think that our fur children would be comforted by our presence.

Steph, maybe God knows who is able to bear the heavy load of being with their baby when he or she leaves this world. Maybe you would have had a heart attack or something equally as bad. I was so afraid that would happen to me.

Perhaps after you talked to the vet you were surely thinking of your baby, willing it in your mind for her to get well. Maybe Luba felt your arms around her even as you were thinking how much you loved her and wanted her home. Steph, maybe she was not without her Mama at all. God's love is so great that maybe He even let her hear your voice as she left this world to go be with Him.

I do not understand why things do or don't happen to us in life. My mom always said we do not question God, that He always has a reason and knows what is best for us. Still it is so heartbreaking when we don't understand why. Hugs
Love, Ann

Dear Ann,

Thanks for your response. Yes, it is true, God, or whatever higher power we believe in, is the only one who knows for sure WHY these things happen.

The strange thing was, around the time of her passing I was standing in front of a mirror, and I suddenly I had a strong sense of connection with Luba. I thought "Little Dog, do whatever it is that you have to do, even if, God forbid, you have to leave ud." In retrospect, I must have felt her leaving, and she must have felt it. At least, I can comfort myself with this.

It isn't lost on me that while I may not have been able to be with my Luba when she died, I have been granted some extra months with Falkor. You, and others on this board, have lost not one, but two or even three babies within such short times.

I guess it's not up to us to question. We can only make the best of what we have at this moment in time.

Hi Steph,
I know the part of not saying goodbye, mine was for a different reason, I was weak, but also I think if I would have seen Moose take his last breath, that moment would have haunted me forever. I dont know why things happen the way they do, but we have to find someway to make peace with ourselves. Pamela

i'm so sorry that you didn't get to say goodbye to your luba. i'm sure that she knew how much you loved her and she passed with love for you in her heart. i'm glad that you are doing better. ah

Dear Steph,
I am glad that you have made your peace, though I am sad you didn't have the chance to say good-bye.
I want to share with you the flip side...being there at your beloved furbabies final moment
can also leave one haunted.
Sometimes it is so hard for me to get the image of Indy's last moments out of my mind.
Often it's the only image I can conjure up. I think as time goes on I will remember more joyful times and looking at his pictures helps with that.
Indy's passing was peaceful....but it doesn't lessen the guilt that he passed when he did becasue it was my my decision to let him go.
I hope Luba's passing was peaceful. People who work with animals are there becasue they possess love and compassion and your darling was not alone.
I know there are those that stroked her gently, said good-bye and wished her a safe journey and treated her with the utmost respect.
We have such a special bond with our pets. Luba knew she was loved by you, and I'm sure she watches over you now.
Love & hugs,
Fran

Thanks Fran,

Yes, I know that being with them in the final moments is also devastating. My previous dog died in my arms as they gave him his final shot. He had bone cancer, and was in agony. It had spread to his brain, and he had started to become viscious. Nevertheless, I felt like a murderer.

I guess which ever way our babies die, it will haunt us in one way or another.

The thing with Luba was, the vet had promised to call me if she was crashing, so that I could be with her. However, that morning she had stabilized somewhat. The figured that while if I came in she'd be happy, once I had to leave again the strain would be too hard on her heart. They really thought that they'd get her back to me, although they had warned me that she'd need medication, and would not be able to have her active lifestyle anymore.

I think that her subconscious must have known all of this. I think not being able to play ball, and run would have killed her within weeks, so, ultimately, it was good that she went. Mid-afternoon on a busy Saturday at the clinic. Many caring people around her. Her mommie came to see her after she had passed, so if she was still lingering, she would have known that I had not abandoned her.

I am so sorry. I am dealing with the same type of thing. Mister died completely on his own in the VET with no one there at all around 7:30 Am on saturday morning. I can't even think about it without completely breaking doen. H loved us humans so much and died completely alone. Whay does this happen. It's not fair at all. I can only hope he had some piece but I can't help but to think that he was scared. I did not say goodbye. Feel good about the fact that you got to say your goodbyes. I'm sure that helped

They said that he would be OK.

Dear Steph,

I'm sorry you're still facing "one thing that won't heal". Luba knew how much you loved her, even though you weren't at the vet's right at the end. You were the most important person in her life. That's why you felt that connection as you stood in front of the mirror at the time of her passing. Your bond was so strong, you "connected" even though you weren't physically with her.

You're in my thougths.

Lynn

Thanks Lynn and Mister,

Mistergoose, I have asked myself repeatedly "Why oes this type of thing happen" over the past 8 months. I too had vets telling me that despite the fact that she was sick, she'd probably be home with me "later next week". I'm sorry you have to deal with this too. Please be reassured though, the grief does heal. I am just in a bit of a downward spiral, but overall I am doing ok. The first weeks are the hardest.

Lynn, thanks for saying that about the connection I had with Luba. I think it's true. I felt her passing, and I gave her my blessing. It was a very brief moment, but it will have to do. That, and going to see her body. I'm glad I did that too. BTW, my mother came along for that, and I was so glad to have her there. She was with me when I got the dreaded call from the vet.

Dear Steph,

No doubt I am largely repeating what Fran and others have told you but for whatever it's worth: I think it is just unbearably painful any way they go. Yes, I got to say goodbye to Shelby and had her with me for 3 days before the end but in the final hour I was so crazed and distraught that I was making the decision to have her euthanised and thus "causing" her to die that the final goodbye was anguished for me and probably for her as well (seeing me sobbing and shaking).

Also, I go back and forth on whether I should have offered more vet care than I did. At the time I know I was convinced, given 2 doctors' opinions on the large cancerous mass and the fluid-impeding-the-lungs situation, that it was very near the end and I didn't want her to suffer and don't think I did (at least not very much or very long as far as I can tell). However, now I am wondering if maybe I shouldn't have tried one more treatment, not to cure her but to give her and me a little more time, and to give me the absolute certainty that I had done everything possible for her, instead of just a really good hunch and a couple of lab &%^yses and professional opinions. Hell, maybe she *should* have been in a vet's office when she passed as your beloved Luba was. (Come to think of it, why wasn't she? I can only guess they knew it was the end for her so they sent her home with me........but they never came out and said that until I called and said I thought it was time. Hmmm.) Instead, since it was terminal and she seemed to have lost much of her quality of life *and* to be declining extremely quickly, I made what I thought was the grown up and honorable decison to end her life painlessly and with a modi%% of dignity (although you can judge for yourself how well I succeeded by reading my original post if you haven't already....this is a different conversation) *before* she was in deep, long drawn-out suffering.....and I was convinced she was fast approaching this too.

However, *now* I have nightmares about the look on Shelby's face as I led her to the car and carried her into the vet's office for euthanasia, as well as the final moment when she passed. At least Luba chose her own moment and seems to have gone peacefully (???). Shelby died because *I* gave that permission and it ended up happening (although painlessly, thank God) in a strange, stressful, anguished environment because of my involvement. The responsibility and the guilt from having made and executed that decision is searing and horrible sometimes.

I meant to try to comfort you but I see this is turning out to be more about me. I will post it anyway in case it is useful. The last thing I want to say it that maybe the lesson here is that death is simply not under our control in the end. We can get help for our loved ones, as we did, and sometimes even choose when and where and how they die, as I did, but in the end we still don't really control much.....how much pain, how much time, how much anguish, how much sickness. Maybe that's what we're struggling with here as we beat ourselves up over whether we were there and how they died.....it's another way of missing them and being angry that they're gone.

Hurting for you but convinced you did all the right things,

Susan

Susan, I really do see how agonizing it is any way it happens. Reading your post brought home the agony that is still so fresh for you. Thank you for posting.

It's so true. We can't control the things we wish to. We want them to stay with us and be happy and healthy. We want to take away their pain, and when we can't, and when their time is up we end up blaming ourselves because they were our babies and we were responsible for them.

When I think about it I realise that even if I'd insisted to see Luba I would still be blaming myself. If she'd pulled through she would have been very sickly, and would likely have required euthanisia in a few months, and, again, I'd be blaming myself.

As you said, blaming ourselves is another way of missing them and being angry that they are gone. I don't think the pain ever goes away completely. But it does get a lot better.