I lost my Danny on the 13th, he was only 10 years old and full of beans. Nine days ago he came in the house looking a bit sick and we noticed he had an hemorrhage on his tummy so we rushed him to the vet. He said he had an enlarged heart an had to be treated, probably forever, and also got a sample of his blood to get it tested. A couple of days later they told us he had ehrlichia and anemia and they would try with two injections, antibiotics and vitamins to see if he would recover. I really thought he was going to get over it, at times he looked okay, ate his food and wondered around the garden, other times he would just lie in his basket shivering, the hemorrhage getting worse. The day before he died he looked perfectly ok, maybe a bit tired, he even came out to the door to say hello when I got back from the supermarket, wagging his tail as always. That night we decided to take him back to the vet because his stomach was so full of gas it was all swalloen. They did a couple of enemas and he seemed to feel a bit relieved, so we took him back home. But when we let him out to the garden before going to bed he was sick, I took my pillows to the living room and laid on the sofa with his basket next to me to help him just in case anything happened during the night. At four o'clock he got up, moaned, was sick and stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. I cleaned him and put him in his basket again, laid next to him with my hand resting on his tummy so I could feel him breathe and then fell asleep without wanting to. Half an hour or so later I suddenly woke up, he was choking so I grabbed him and tried to do something, anything, but he stopped breathing, definately. I called my mom and she tried to reanimate him, but there was nothing that could be done.

It still feels like a dream, when my other dog starts barking I expect to hear his high-pitched bark follow hers. He used to go to sleep under a small table in a corner of the living room, when I pass next to it I still check to see if his tinny feet are moving under the tablecloth.

My father seems to have got over it pretty quickly thought he's the one Danny spent more time with, following him around the garden, sticking his noise in whatever my dad was doing. My other dog doesn't seem to have noticed he's not here anymore, and at times I hate her because of that, because Danny was madly in love with her and loved to spend hours licking her tummy, and looked for her when lunch was ready to tell her. And what really breaks my heart is the thought of forgetting about him, it scares me to not remember what his bark sounded like, I know it was annoying, but I can't hear it in my head. I've had other dogs, one of them died and the other one had to be given away because she didn't get on with my baby girl, so we found her a nice home, and I can't remember anything about them although it wasn't so long ago, so I'm frightened that the same thing's going to happen, I keep trying to remember what he smelled like and things like that but seems so distant in time, like a hundred years had gone by... I cried so much when I realised we didn't have that many photos of him, at least they would help not to forget him.

My mother keeps telling me that I'll get better with time, but I don't want to, getting better somehow feels wrong, even sitting here looking through web sites seems wrong, anything but feeling sad feels wrong.

I'm really sorry if I made some spelling mistakes because I'm spanish and my english isn't as good as it should. Thank you for taking the time to read through all of what I've written.

Here I am sitting at my desk at work, and I'm crying like a baby as I read your post about Danny Boy. You did more to help that sweet dog than a lot of people do for their own children. It has only been two days since you lost your friend. Of course you are sad and feel like crying and feel like screaming and can't believe it's true. That's all normal...it sucks, but it's normal. I had to have Spike, my souldog for the past 14 years, euthanized on May 23, and I still cry every day...more than once most days.
I also took very few pictures of my Spike and am kicking myself for that. The day after Spike went to heaven I went through my apartment and threw out, gave away or laundered almost everything he had used. I am now very sorry that I didn't keep something with his smell on it. I have his ashes and a pawprint in plaster, his "blankie" and pillow and his tags all together on my dresser like a shrine. It's very nice and a little comforting...but it's not my Spike and I hate
that I'll never see him again.
You said that your father seems to be coping better than you. Please don't compare your grief with anyone else's. We all mourn in our own way. Some people take longer than others, and some people just don't react much at all. It doesn't matter what they do. You will take as long as you need. Your mother is right in saying that you will feel better in time, but that time is not now. Right now it feels like your heart has been ripped to pieces, and sometimes it feels as though your throat will burst because you need to cry. Sweetie, I'm still feeling that way three weeks later and will probably still be hurting three months from now.
If you continue visiting these sites...and I hope you do...you will read over and over that we are all going through the same feelings and emotions that you are. No one and nothing can change that, but it has helped me to know that I'm not going through it alone. You said that looking through pet loss support sites feels wrong...that anything but being sad feels wrong. Being in this site is a safe place to be while you're feeling sad or mad or frustrated. It's all OK here. We're not going to tell you to "get over it". We're just here to be with each other as we go through this awful time.
My big hope is that you can get past being angry with your other dog. Animals don't think the way we do, they just react to what's happening. Please don't expect your other dog to behave as a person would, but believe that she is mourning Danny in her own doggie way. If you just can't love her right now, at least try not to judge her.
At the end of your post you mentioned that you are Spanish and apologized for making some mistakes. I don't know how old you are, but I am a professional writer, and I can tell you that you have nothing to apoligize for in the communications department. Your post was beautifully written. I just wish I could do or say something to ease some of your pain.
Juanita, Angel Spike's Mom

Juanita thank you very very much for your kind words. When I saw somebody had answered my post I burst into tears, knowing that there are people out there feeling the same way as you do is terrible, but at the same time recomfortating.

I wish they could teach us since we are born that death is part of life and that probably without it it would be meaningless. That would make things much easier.

I know that my other dog doesn't deserve what I feel towards her right now, they loved each other and she surely knows there's something strange going on, though she might not relate it to Danny's absence.

My mother keeps telling me that at least he had the chance to live a fabulous life, I bet Spikey did too, I hope he knew we loved him and would've done anything so he didn't have to go through that last painful night.

Besos...

Besos,
I know how good it feels to know someone understands. This and one other pet loss site have been my lifeline since Spike passed. Yes, Spike led a wonderful life, especially since he started out as a stray at the shelter and not a very likely candidate for adoption....until I came along. You mother is right that Danny had a fabulous life, and it would be nice to celebrate that, but sometimes we just can't do it until some time has passed. Until then, we will keep recalling memories of the last painful hours, days, weeks or months.
And I understand what you said in your first post about being unable to remember certain things about Danny. I am having the same limited recall about Spike. I cried myself to sleep two nights ago trying to remember some of the things he always did or how he looked when he was well, and I just couldn't. I just remember the end, and it hurts.
But we have to get through those images and those feelings before some of the happy times come back to mind. I'd like to share something that sometimes helps when I'm locked into negative feelings. I say this.....Dear God, rather than mourn the absence of Spikey's flame, help me to be happy that it burned so brightly for so long.
This little saying doesn't get rid of all the pain, but it does bring me back to a place of gratitude, reminding me to say Thank You for the 14 wonderful years we had together.
My dear sweet person (are you a boy person or a girl person?), please remember that you only lost your doggie friend two days ago. That is hardly enough time to get over the shock of it all. I know how much this is hurting you, but please understand that your hurt will be as deep as your love was for Danny, and that was a lot.
If it helps to cry, then cry. Crying is very healing. Or try going someplace where you won't disturb anyone and just beat the crap out of a pillow. Each time you let some sadness out, a little healing takes place. Some people write a letter to their pet and just tell them everything they want to say...the happy stuff and the sad stuff. Just get it out some way. That's why I hope you keep coming to this site. If you want the name of the other one I'm in, which seems more active than this one so far, just let me know.
I check here for messages every day, and I check my email all during the day. If you need some support or TLC, I'm here.
Juanita

I know this feeling well. I hate when people say (with sincerity) 'it has been almost 2 years now, Kim, don't you think it is time to move forward?' No, actually, I don't ! A part of me doesn't want to move on. I guess as strange as it may sound, as long as I still feel this intense pain, the more connected I stay to her...does that make any sense at all? The day I 'move forward' is the day I will say I am okay without her and I'm not...I never will be. Sure, it sucks sometimes having constant sadnesss lingering in the background, but if I think of her this intimately everyday, than I will never forget those things that Besos mentioned. I don't want to forget her smell, the way her fur feels, the way her voice sounds...thank God for home videos. I can't tell you how many cry fests I have had watching those, but they make it seem like I just saw her yesterday and keep her memory so vivid. I even have her collage of photos as my screensaver so they are constantly scrolling on the screen. I am just so greatful that my Sasha, Besos' Danny, Juanita's Spike, and all the other furbabies that are missed on this site were blessed to be so loved in their time here on earth...so many aren't nearly as fortunate...
Your friend in grief,
Kim

I suppose that a part of us will never heal. We learn to move on and welcome other critters into our lives, but a hole will be there forever. We just adapt to life as it has become.

Juanita, Kim. R and Sidney's Buddy, thank you all. You don't know how much everything you say means to me.

I don't want the days to go by because that means that I'm another day further away from the last one I saw my baby.

By the way, Juanita asked me if I'm a girl or a boy. I'm a 23 year old girl that wishes her classes hadn't just finished so I could focus on something else right now.

Besos is not my name or my dog's it means "kisses" in spanish, and that's what I send you all, hundreds of kisses that I hope will help you soothe the pain.

Hi again,
I feel so privileged to have at my fingertips the ability to touch hearts with all of you. You are well aware that not everyone understands that grieving for a dear pet is the same process as grieving for a beloved relative or friend.

Whenever I try to point this out to a non-animal person, they jump down my throat and insist that a pet cannot be compared to a human...that people are much more IMPORTANT than animals. Well maybe that's so on the food chain, but not in my heart.

Kim, I was in tears reading that you have so many visual reminders of sweet Sasha around you. I truly regret having so few photos and no films at all of Spike. I have had cats all my life...six at the moment, and I feed lots more outdoors...but Spike was my first dog since I was a kid. I have dearly loved the cats I have lost over the years, three of them through euthanasia, and I still mourn them. I've never taken many photos and never really felt the need for them before. All I really have left of Spike are a few photos...not even very good ones...his blankie, his pillow, his tags and, of course, his ashes. I touch, kiss and talk to these mementos every day, but my mind still won't let me recall all the good times. I know that pictures would help.

I don't know how to say this without feeling disloyal to my feline companions, but the connection I had with Spike was so different, so intense, so personal. When my cats passed, I mourned the loss of a dear pet. When Spike went to heaven, I lost the best friend I've ever had.

Thank you all for being there and for "listening" to me with understanding and without judgment. Sometimes I feel selfish and like a really awful person when I am comforted by knowing that others are hurting as I am. I guess it's the old "misery-loves-company" thing, but now I know there's nothing wrong with that.
One truly valuable lesson I've learned through this experience is that, if I continue to visit sites like this one and read the postings of fellow mourners, I am sometimes given the gift of being able to comfort someone else. That means the world to me, and I know it's an important part of this slow, painful recovery.

And for you, dear Danny Boy's beautiful older sister....besos right back atcha....from me and from Angel Spike. I always called him "The Dog of 10,000 Kisses" because he just never ran out of them. He wasn't up to giving them during his last year on earth, but I know he's up there now sending them down by the bucketful.

I also realized after sending my last reply that besos probably meant something in Spanish that you figured I'd know because of my name. Well, despite being called Juanita, I have no Spanish blood in me. My parents are Italian and Polish/Russian. They named me Juanita because it was the title of a song they loved.

This has gotten to be a very long post...you're probably asleep by now! But to the lovely young woman that I will call Besos until I know her real name, may I suggest that you consider spending some time helping the less fortunate animals that Kim referred to in her post? Is there possibly an animal shelter where you could volunteer during the summer? Of course, it will remind you of Danny, but then most everything else will anyway. I hope you think about it. If nothing else, please continue to post. We all need each other for as long as it takes.

Hugs and besos...
Juanita

You shouldn't feel guilty about this at all, it is completely normal. I love all of my animals dearly, and I give 100% to all of them (1 dog, 2 cats, and 3 horses), but they will never be my Sasha. She was 'the one'. My canine soulmate. My mom says it is because we 'grew up' together. I was 14 years old when I was allowed to adopt her from the animal shelter and I was 1 month away from turning 30 when I lost her. She was with me through all of the most important life mile stones and she was my very best friend....I will always miss her dearly. She was 'my' dog, even though everyone in the family loved her very much. Even my parents, who had had many pets at that point in their lives, saw something very special in her....that one-of-kind personality. I have gone through the loss of 2 family pets (both from old-age) and although I was very sad about their death and mourned for them, after a few months, life seemed to be okay again. Sometimes I feel guilty for that, but I can't help the way I feel, none of us can. It doesn't mean I don't love the other departed furbabies, it just means my soul was so connected to my Sasha's that I just can't let go. Sasha was also the only furbaby that I had 'all my own'. When I married and moved out, I obviously took her with me, the others stayed with the family, so that makes a difference as well. Now I wonder just how I will be affected by the loss of any of my other furbabies. I say that if I was able to survive (barely) losing Sasha, I can survive anything, but one of my horses is starting to show her age (she is 20+ years old) and the thought of losing her terrifies me. They are all rescues and I have a special connection to each and every one of them......I guess we will see in time (unfortunately)...

Kim,
Yes, my Spike was "the one" as well. He had special, almost magical, qualities that certain people other than me recognized. I can't imagine ever feeling this way about another being. It is so healthy and healing to share emotions that would certainly be minimized or dismissed as "silly" in so many other places.
Juanita

I read all these posts and just keep crying and crying. We all feel such pain and somehow that makes me feel a "little" better and glad we have these sites to "vent" and get it all out.

It was 3 weeks ago this past Monday that my baby Abbie died and I thought I was doing a little better, but last night was horrible again. I was hysterical and could not sleep or stop crying. I just can't get past this awful feeling that she is gone. I have to start breathing in a way to try and calm myself when the realization hits me all over again and I literally feel hysterical in the pain of missing her. Just missing her presence and the emptiness is awful. I went to a grief counselor for the 2nd time yesterday and she asked me if Abbie could have spoken, what I thought she would have called me. I said "Mommy," and the tears just fell and fell. It is that feeling that our little furbabies are perpetual little dependent babies that need us so much for all their needs. So, to me she was like another child and that's what I feel like I've lost. I mean this in no disrespect for people that have actually lost a human child, but the counselor pointed out pain is pain. And what I am feeling is as real to me now as anyone's pain for any given loss. She also pointed out that this shows how deeply I am able to love and that is something to cherish.

I just cannot believe this coming Monday will be one full month without her. I have the towel I wrapped her in for that last trip and even though I washed it in haste that night thinking I could wash away the sadness, it still has her scent and some of her hair on it, so I actually slept with it the other night and held it as if it was her resting on my chest, purring away. It didn't really help and again tonight I am just so, so upset and missing her beyond belief. I loved her with all my heart and miss her as much today as I did in the beginning. But, the one ray of hope is that I am feeling a little closer in deciding to get another kitty. I was actually able to look on-line at Petfinders.com and realize how MANY more babies are out there waiting for us to love that without us, would either have no one to love them, no home and/or be put down. No other cat will replace my Abbie, she was truly one in a million, but I need to feel that bond and happiness, somewhat, again.

I have had to have 2 previous dogs that I dearly loved put down and my "first" kitty, 2 years ago. Those were terribly painful, but Abbie was my "soul mate" as others have mentioned. We had such a bond and even though she was always deaf, we had a "sign language" so that I would pat my leg and she would come running and up on my lap in a flash. I cannot remember a time I was sitting in my chair reading the paper or a book that she was not on my lap. She would sometimes crawl ONTO the paper so I'd have to actually read around her, but she was content and so was I so it didn't matter. Since she had her claws, even clipped, they would make this sound on the one rug in my bedroom and I literally shot up in bed the other night as I "heard" her walking on the rug. My dog has never made that noise since his nails are thicker and didn't go into the berber rug the same way. I was sure she was in the room. Of course, the realization she was not there was devastating. I KNOW she's gone in my brain, but my heart hasn't caught up yet.
My grief counselor suggested I write Abbie a letter, but I've yet to do it. I feel so proud to have had her so long and thank God for the gift of her. We really are the lucky ones to have had these little creatures in our lives. I almost feel sorry for people that have never had this bond with a beloved pet as it is truly awesome. Thanks everyone for understanding and sharing in this journey.

Your post has touched my heart and also turned on the tear machine. There are so many similarities in our stories. This coming Tuesday it will be one month since we put our dear Spike to rest. I also experienced an emotional regression of sorts at the three-week mark. It came as a shock because I, too, thought I was "getting better". I went through the sob-wracked sleepless nights to the point where I had to go in late to work one morning because I was such a mess. Again, I thank God for the people in these sites

After coming home from the vet after saying good-bye to Spike, I became a whirlwind of trying to "clean away the sadness", gathering together, throwing away, laundering and otherwise eliminating as many "triggers" as I could. I left the blanket we had wrapped Spike in for his final trip but said "no" when asked if I wanted to take it home. All I could think of at the time is that I wanted Spike to keep warm in it. In my haste to protect my heart from further breaks, I laundered the blankie that covered Spike almost every night as he slept. Oh how I regret having nothing with his scent. Another online friend actually keeps her sweet departed dog's sweater in a plastic bag so the scent doesn't disappear.

I hope you will try to write a letter to Abbie as your counselor suggested. And she is absolutely right in her belief that "pain is pain". I have no human children and have wondered many times over the past month how parents can survive the loss of a child. I expect they do it much the way we do...with great pain, a lot of guilt and the feeling that their heart has been shredded.

I am so happy to hear that you are considering another kitty. I'm sure there is plenty of love in your heart to give to another furbaby who desperately needs it. I think that Abbie is probably smiling to think that a homeless kitty may be lucky enough to live the kind of wonderful life that she had with you. The sound of Abbie's claws on the bedroom rug just might have been a sign from her that you need another cat making those noises in reality rather than in imagination. I think she also wanted you to know that she is still "that close" to you.

I will be thinking of you on Monday and saying a prayer for your peace and acceptance as well as the certain knowledge that you will see Abbie again.
Juanita

I am so glad to know that I'm not the only one with regrets of how I handled some of Sasha's possesions, thinking it would make things easier.....those things have only caused me more pain now. I actually knew several months before hand that Sasha's time with me was coming to an end. It was time for my other furbabies annual vaccinations and I always replace their old tags with the new ones. I knew that my Sasha wouldn't be needing her vaccines that year, so there was no need to put her through the stress of it, but I decided to throw away her old tags anyway. My mom still has Sadie's collar and tags ( her Bassett Hound) from when she died and said she wishes now that she hadn't kept it. She said it only makes her sad to look at it, yet she can't possibly throw it away now, that would be like throwing away her baby, so she is stuck. I thought I would feel like that, too, so I was trying to avoid that from happening. When I threw the old tags away, I actually kept her collar off too so I could 'train' myself to not see her with it on, as though it would somehow 'disassociate' it from all the years I had seen her wear it...I guess we lose all of our sense when faced with stuff like that. A couple of months later, the shelter was doing a drive to collect any extra collars, leashes, dog bowls, etc. so I donated all the extra stuff I had...including her collar. At the time I was used to seeing her without it, and I felt great about donating it for some other poor pound puppy to sport some 'bling', I thought it was still the best thing for my heart to seperate myself from anything that could cause me later sadness...I wonder where my beautiful girls collar is right now. It was a beautiful collar that I had custom made for her and she had worn it for many years. I see it in so many of her pictures, I wish I could hold it in my hands now, knowing that it had been a part of her for so long. It was scalloped leather with beautiful sterling stud work on it...I'll try to post a picture of it....it really makes me sick that I gave it away..I don't know what I was thinking.
While I was with her at the vet that dreaded day, my concerned parents came to my house and washed up all of her bedding and boxed it up for me. I wish it still had her scent on it, but I'm glad I at least still have the bed and bedding to look at and hold...that is enough for me. I kept the blanket that we had her put to sleep on in the back of my SUV for quite a long time. I just cleaned around it when I cleaned my car, and any cargo I carried just went right on top of it....all the while my husband never said a word about it...he knew better. Well, about a year or more later, we decided to purchase a new vehichle, so the inevitable happened. I took it out, washed it, and put it away. It was very symbolic for me to be able to do that and I am glad that I was able to wait for so long before having to face it. It made it much less traumatic. I do wish I wouldn't have washed it, but it isn't devastating to me now that I did. Looking back I just wish I would have folded it up and put it away without washing it, but either way the scent would have eventually faded so I just try to remember that. It would probably have made me more sad to witness the scent fading than for it to just be washed away, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess I have rambled enough for now...I don't even know if this will make sense to anyone else, but it feels good to just get these things out every now and again. Here is a picture of my beautiful girl with the collar on...

Kim,
I loved reading your post. It made me feel less strange about the things I did and didn't do in the aftermath of losing Spike. The best way to describe what happened to me...and probably most of us...is that I went on automatic pilot and just did whatever seemed to make sense at the time.

I think the bottom line is that no matter what we save or what we give/throw away, whether we launder certain things or we don't, how many photos we took or didn't take...we will always have regrets. In all the posts I've read here and on two other sites, I have yet to hear anyone say "I did all the right things before, during and after my dear ______'s crossed. I miss her/him terribly, but I have no regrets and no guilt".

We loved our darling babies, and they depended on us. In our hearts, we feel we should have been able to protect them and keep them from harm. We should have been able to "fix it", and we couldn't. And that hurts like hell.
Juanita

This is so true! I think that in our deep state of grief, we find ways to torture ourselves, even if they aren't rational. It's like some sort of self-punishment if you will. I have read one person on here say that they didn't feel guilty after euthanizing their kitty...I'm a bit jealous I must admit. I can't imagine how freeing it would be to be able to resolve the guilt I have over making that decision. It was the worst day of my life.
I sometimes feel selfish for being so sad about my girl being gone when I hear of others who loose their babies at young ages from terminal disease or due to accidents that they feel they could have prevented....I just don't know how they cope with it. That would truly be my worst nightmare. A friend that I met here at LS had to deal with his wife accidentally letting his girl slip past her out the door and as she darted across the street she was hit and killed. This would be my idea of the worst case scenario. His girl wasn't even 2 years old. I would not only just want to die thinking about what my furbaby had gone through during such a traumatic transition, but I truly think that it would destroy my marriage. I know it sounds silly, but I don't think I could ever forgive my husband if that happened to me. I know it was an accident, and it would be selfish of me to blame him, but I'm being honest about my feelings, right or wrong. My girl lived well beyond the 'average life expectanty' of a large breed dog and enjoyed that life to the fullest. She was spoiled rotten and I can truly say I have no regrets about the life that I provided for her. I can't think of one day that passed that she wasn't hugged, kissed, and told numerous times how much she was loved. I hate to think about how her life might have turned out if I wouldn't have adopted her, if she would have gone home with someone else. Someone who wants a cute puppy for their kids, but as they become bored with her, she finds herself living in the yard alone with no one to love her, or no chance at life at all if her time were to run out....She and I were both very lucky to have found each other and I was very lucky to have had her be able to stay with me for such a long time...for that I am truly grateful. If I want to be realistic, my Sasha would be gone by this time whether I would have stepped in and made the decision or not. Lets face it, she would be going on 18 years old...not likely at all for her breed. I guess I could have let her linger on until she died on her own, but I don't think the guilt would have been any less (probably more) if I would have allowed her to suffer just so I could have avoided putting her to sleep...she deserved better than that. Putting it into perspective like that actually makes me feel a little better. Either way she would be gone right now, and when I think whether I would want her last days spent any more uncomfortable than they already were, or to have to make that choice again, I would do it again for sure....the proud, dignified lady she was wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I have, for some reason, felt the need to ramble uncontrolabley lately. I'm trying to get a hold of myself...please be patient with me, but since I'm sapping it up, I thought I would share this picture. I told my mom that I was organizing some of my pictures and she decided to do the same. She found this one and gave it to me today. In it I had just bought my wedding dress and was showing it to my family. As usual, my number one fan took center stage for the show and I didn't even take note at the time how special this picture would be to me one day. I've cried buckets since I got it.
Your friend in grief,
Kim
P.S. okay, I can't fix it from looking so digital, but you get the point!

Oh Kim, what an absolutely beautiful picture! I understand why it turned on the waterworks...it did the same to me. AND, I think you chose a gorgeous wedding dress!

The photo reminds me of something my mom told me many times. For most of Spikes life he stayed with my parents (downstairs in the same house as me) during the day while Lloyd and I worked. Leaving him there in the a.m. was always sad/funny because this boy I called "The Dog of 10,000" kisses would refuse to kiss me good-bye. Beg as I might, he would just turn his head and ignore me. But when I came home...OH BOY!!! No one has ever been that thrilled to see me. It was during those joyful homecomings that my mom would say "That dog looks at you with such adoration...I've never seen anything like it".
That's what I think when I look at this photo.

The part about forgiving a spouse for an accident really hit home. A couple of years ago my husband, through carelessness, tried to give Spike my evening pills instead of his own. I was going to be late, and asked my husband to give Spike his evening does of the many meds and supplements he took every day. I take quite a few myself, so I would set our weekly pill boxes up for 2-3 weeks in advance. Spike's were in a basket with his name and a.m./p.m. boldly marked on the containers, and mine were on the counter equally well marked.

Before I go on, I have to tell you that only days before this incident, I mentioned to my husband that I'd wanted to ask him to medicate Spike in my absence but had thought better of it. He went BALLISTIC...."So you don't even trust me to give a dog a pill" kind of stuff. So two days later I call him from work and ask him to give Spike his evening pills and he grabs mine "by mistake". Kim, Spike's top adult weight was 25 pounds/15 when he died. My daily meds contain three different blood pressure medications...enough, I'm sure, to kill even a large dog.

When I got home from work, my husband called from the den "Spike wouldn't take all his pills, so I stopped trying". Of course, some choice words went through my mind, but instead of saying them I just grabbed Spike's pill container and dumped whatever he hadn't takne into my hand. Surprise....ALL the evening pills were there. I remember standing there perplexed for a few seconds, then I grabbed my box, and several were gone including two of the BP pills. I don't know what made me glance at the rug, but there on the floor was one of them WITH TEETH MARKS ON IT. It had actually been in Spike's mouth. I could only assume he had swallowed the one pill that was not there.

I won't describe in full the panic call to a poison control center, then to my vet, then the trip to the vet (forgot to mention that Spike has chronic cardio/pulmonary problems!), the silent ride home after having to leave him overnight, the nervewracked totally sleepless night waiting for the phone to ring ("Only if something happens during the night"). Thankfully, as you probably guessed, Spike made it with no problem. When I picked him up the next day, his little mouth still had traces of the charcoal they used to induce vomiting. I still had not spoken to my husband except in monosyllables and only when necessary.

You'll never guess what the man's complaint was after finally asking why I wasn't speaking to him. HE SAID I SHOULD HAVE BEEN COMFORTING HIM because he felt so bad about what had happened!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don't ask what happened after that. So, yes, I can certainly understand how you could feel a fatal "accident" could ruin your marriage.

Oh my, I've really gone on, haven't I? I think we must be competing for some kind of "Rambling On" award.

Kim, I want to thank you for showing me that I needn't be rushing myself to "feel better" when Spike has been gone less than a month. That dear little guy was so entwined in my life every single day, except for three or four overnights at the vet, for 14 years. I truly can't remember life before him, and I don't know if I'll ever adjust to life without him.
Juanita

Juanita,
I guess we have pretty much hogged this post, but whatever might help, huh? Funny you say that...that is what my mom said about this very photo. She said "she looks so proud and adoring". It does touch my heart to see the way she is looking at me. She almost looks 'placed' there....sadly enough, I didn't even notice at the time. (Thanks for the kind comment about the dress (even though you can't really tell what it looks like ). I hate that it scanned so poorly, mostly because the distortion of it makes me look like Shrek's wife with a wad of chew in my mouth! LOL! BUT the photo was about my Sasha, not me, so I just have to deal with the distortion of myself...UUGGHH!).
As a vet tech, I have witnessed many a dog have to take that charcoal blocker that you spoke about and it is no fun at all!! Are you speaking to your hubby yet ? LOL! It is this comment that tells me we are so much alike. There are so many people on here that promise others that it will get better...time does heal all wounds...it hasn't for me, and I don't think it ever will. HOWEVER, I have learned to adjust to life without her, as painful as it may be. It is what it is, and although I miss her deeply (obviously), I have gotten used to the daily routine without her here. I still think of her every step of the way, though, as every thing I did in my daily routine involved her. As with you, when I took my daily pills, so did the furbabies. Now it is just me and Zada (my great dane) taking them and that is a daily reminder when I'm passing them out to only one baby instead of two. Then, as I head to the barn every morning and evening to feed the horses, I am now alone. My Sasha would always go with me, but Zada was always too lazy to care about it, so now I go alone. Sometimes, if I'm really struggling with it I will beg Zada to go, but after about 5 minutes she heads back to the house, so it is pointless really.
I can't tell you that it gets better, or that time heals, but I can say that you will learn to adjust to how your life will be now. For me there was life before Sasha (which I can't even remember), life with Sasha (the best years of my life), and now life after Sasha (one day at a time). Don't get me wrong, I do have joy in my life. I have many times that I can think about my Sasha and smile, or even laugh with my family members about things that she did, and I have found happiness in my other animals, but as the poem I posted a short time ago says...I loved her best....and always will.
Love,
Kim
Just for fun, here is a picture of my husband and I on our actual wedding day. Just so you'll know that I don't really look like the 'elephant man' !

I'm really sorry I haven't written for the last few days but my internet conexion isn't working properly so we're trying to sign on to another company, but takes time. That's why I haven't read yet all your replys, I'm going to take advantage know it is working and write this one quickly just in case my conexion starts failing again, if it doesn't I'll take my time to read the whole thread and re-answer.

Right now I'm sort of okay, I have this floating feeling all the time, as if all my energy had been sucked away, I don't feel sad or angry or guilty or anything, I just don't feel. I wish I did because then I would be able to understand what I was going through, but I don't understand my actual state of mind. I cry from time to time and miss him, but I'm not sure if it's really because of him or because I just got into the routine of doing so. I feel like the worst person in the world.

Juanita, thank you for the e mail. I just started telling about all that happened to some of my friends and they don't seems to understand the importance of all of it. While I was talking to one of them on the phone I started crying, she told me to calm down, I tried to sob and talk about another subject and before I was going to hang up she asked me "Don't you feel like going to do some window-shopping?" I said no and didn't give it another thought, but we got together yesterday to go to the beach for a couple of hours and she started complaining about being nervous because of her exams and this and that, but didn't ask me how I was doing or anything I know it's dificult to sympathize if you've never loved a pet but doesn't mean you have to be insensitive. I just wanted to thank you because you've shown more interest than my own friends.

Kim,

"Shrek's wife with a wad of chew" cracked me up. I didn't think so, but now that you mention it......just kidding! Thanks for the wedding pic. The dress is truly beautiful...definitely my taste. The husband isn't too shabby either. In answer to your question, yes, I'm speaking to mine again, but I honestly don't know where we would be if Spike hadn't pulled through. Comfort him indeed. He's lucky I didn't clock him and dump him by the side of the road! I was really beyond fury over that little mistake.

I think I know what you mean about still feeling the pain but adjusting to life without them. During my adult life I have lost nine cats, and the emotions surrounding three of them are still painful. There was even a shelter dog that I knew only a few days, but the connection was instant. That was more than ten years ago, and I still mourn his passing. I fully anticipate that, as time goes by, I will feel about Spike as you do about Sasha.

Driving home today...I say "my prayers" in the car going to and from work...I was giving thanks for the miracle of 14 wonderful years with Spike and ended by saying out loud "He was the love of my life". I was immediately struck by a major revelation. I have said many times that my greatest regret is never having found my "true love". In that moment, I knew I could cross that regret off my list.

I was reminded of something I read about praying for miracles...that our prayers are often granted, but we don't recognize the miracle because it isn't "packaged" as we'd expected. All these years I believed the miracle of "true love" would have been delivered in human packaging. Who'd have thought it would take the form of a funny-looking, slightly scruffy, red-haired little guy with four legs and a tail?

Juanita

Hi "Coconut",

I'm so glad to hear from you! I think you've read enough posts to know that you are feeling exactly as you're "supposed" to feel at this early stage in recovering from losing Danny. The kind of numbness you described is just what I experienced for most of the first two weeks after losing Spike...so much so that I figured I must be doing very well. Then week three came along, the zombie feeling lifted, and the pain hit KA-POW! But that's how it affected ME. Everyone goes through it differently, and at their own pace.

You are so far from being "the worst person in the world". You are missing your dog and reacting to those feelings in your own unique way. The "worst person in the world" would probably be out and about, and if anyone asked them about their loss, they'd probably say...."No biggie. It was just a dog. Let's get pizza". Sweetheart, I have never heard of anyone crying just because it had become "routine".

I almost can't believe that Tuesday will be a month since I said good-bye to Spike, and I am still crying every day...several times...in the car, at work, at the supermarket, when I go to bed and when I wake up. And I don't expect to stop crying anytime soon.

As far as expecting friends or anyone else to truly understand, you'll continue to be disappointed if you do. I don't think that it's insensitivity as much as not knowing how to handle the whole topic of death and grieving. You said in your very first post that you wish we were taught early on that death was a natural part of life so it wouldn't be so devastating when it happened. That is so far from the way our "sophisticated" society works and, I agree, it should be just the opposite.

I guess what I'm saying is that, no matter what you might be feeling....or what you think you're NOT feeling...these forums are the place to share. You'll never be judged, never be ignored or dismissed. Your feelings will always be honored and validated.

Love and besos....Juanita

Strange evening tonight. It's been 8 days. I've been doing pretty well all day: hardly cried. Hardly felt. Hardly anything. In part, I know it's becuse I'm steeling myself for going back to work tomorrow. Tucking away the emotions, the rawness. (At least I've been able to corral myself the last two days -- all of last week my emotions were in a blender, I never knew what was coming next. Finally locating the "off" button is giving me a break I need.) My family responded to me like a freak for grieving so deeply (though I know it means they've never been blessed with that wonderful furbaby bond, and are just feeling helpless to "fix" me), and yet tonight, when I compare myself with others of you, I feel like a freak again for feeling, at least for the moment, relatively intact. Isn't this just a weird journey we're on? I know that after the initial flood stops, grief works its way up in bubbles. The bubbles become fewer, with more time in between, but when they break the surface the pain is keening and raw, like before. I'm just in between bubbles.

I forget now who, but one of you mentioned feeling angry at the dog who was getting through it okay. I understand this! I know Willow misses his brother, and I don't want him to be miserable, but I'm both puzzled and envious. At the beginning, I was also angry that it wasn't him instead of Mink. It would have been easier to get over Willow than Mink. I adore him, but we don't have That Thing, like I did with Mink. Fortunately, most of that feeling is passed, and I'm finding a new level of tenderness for Will. We have to learn to be a family of two now.

Please, wish me luck tomorrow at work..... ~Kimberly, Mink and Willow's mom

I came here tonight cause I was having those feelings where no one around would understand - family birthday - and I had to cry and couldn't communicate those mournful and stinging pains I was having. Looking throught the back door and waiting for Groucho and crying cause the only ones who showed up are the darn coons. I would have given anything to see him again and going over and over again the pain of finding him and trying to see if I could bring him back even though he was cold and stiff and there ws no hope. No one here would understand , I don't think, and that kinda makes me mad but there it is. Everyone happy and celebrating and there's me getting away to cry.

Thank you all for being here. When I'm feeling so hopeless and helpless and like no one understands, you all do. You're family somtimes in a way that my family could never be - and no disrespect to my family cause I adore them all more than I could ever say, but folks here understand and feel when pain overwhelms me. Thanks again - Barbara

Kimberly,
Oh my Gosh, that picture of your boys should be in calendars!! It is ADORABLE!! Did you pose them that way, or was that a natural position for them? TOO CUTE!
I am so glad that someone had the bravery to say something that I could never bring myself to say. I thought that surely people would think I was a terrible person for having felt this way! I was so resentful to my beautiful Zada (my great dane) for being able to live when my Sasha could not, especially since she didn't seem to even care that she was gone. I felt so horrible for it, but at the same time I couldn't help it. Sometimes when I would see her eating, or napping, or sometimes when she wanted me to give her attention, my stomach would just turn flips. I wanted to just puke knowing she didn't have nearly the 'zest' for life that my girl had, but yet she was here and my Sasha was gone...so unfair. I have moved beyond that now and accepted that Zada is a precious soul all her own, and when she is gone I don't want to have any regrets about her life (as I have learned here, there will be enough of those about her death, regardles of how it plays out) so I have learned to cherish her and make the most of our time together, even if it's hard without Sasha here to enjoy it as well. There are still times I have to catch myself in comparing her to Sasha. Just the other night, my little girl put her cheese stick down on the ottoman and when Zada noticed it, she ate it. That is something my Sasha would have NEVER done. In fact I could leave my entire dinner plate on the ottoman and go outside to speak to a neighbor for an hour or more and come back in and it would remain untouched...( I know because it happened! she was such a good girl.) My first response was "BAD DOG! SASHA WOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THAT!!" That was one of the many times my husband has said 'You really need professional help.' I know I shouldn't compare the two, but I really think that it is natural to some extent. Zada knows she is deeply loved, and I really don't think she is 'bright' enough to know the difference anyway ! Oh well, she might not be the sharpest tack in the box, but she sure is a love-bug . I hate to think of what this journey would have been like without her to lean on...literally! So many times I would just lay on her and cry. I really don't know how people survive the loss of an only pet. I'll add a picture of her at the bottom...
Juanita,
Thanks, of course I think so ,too! Not to mention that it is a plus that he loves animals too so he easily puts up with my 'zoo'! I also know exactly what you mean about the 'true love' thing. I think that sometimes the hardest part of Sasha being gone is not only the obvious seperation from her, but knowing I will never have that kind of bond with anyone else ever again for as long as I live. Not my husband, not my daughter, no one. I love my husband and my daughter, and I would die for them both, but that perfect understanding of one another, that constant level of never having to speak to one another to know the others feelings, never having to worry about what the other is thinking, just all of those things you have to worry about with people don't exist with our furry soul mates, our one of a kind furangels, and that is a hard thing to deal with being gone once you've had it.
Love,
Kim
Here is my pathetic little Zada...sorry about the digital look, I don't know why they always do that!?!? That little face is just made for smoochin', eh?

Barbara,
I just wanted to say that I feel the same way. My family are all HUGE animal lovers, and even they are a little concerned that my grief is this deep and has lingered for so long. It has gotten to the point where I have to try to hide some of my feelings from them so they don't have to worry about me being 'crazy' or something....my husband honestly thinks I need to speak to a professional. He is VERY supportive of my grief, but he is truly concerned about me at this point and wants me to 'get better'. It just isn't that easy. They all mean well, and I know they just want me to be like I used to be pre-Sasha's death, but I will never be that person again. I know it sounds cliche', but when Sasha died, a part of me truly died with her, and I will never be the same person again. They think that being here at LS makes it worse. Just today my mom and I were talking about LS and she said it keeps me from letting myself move on. "It keeps you reliving her death instead of celebrating her life" she said. In a way that is true, it can be awfully depressing to come here a lot of the time, but she doesn't understand what LS is all about. I have formed some really great friendships with some really great people and sometimes we can share our funny stories and our happy memories about our babies, and make each other remember the good times....and at the same time, when we are feeling sad about our babies being gone (even if it has been almost 2 years for some of us ) we always know that the people here at LS will understand completely and always be there to lend a cyber shoulder....it is very comforting to me and I truly adore the people here. My Sasha was gone for 10 months before I found LS. I wasn't much about the computer, but in desperation I went on a search for anything that could help me with my grief. Thank God I found this place....I hate to think of where I would be had I not found it....
Love,
Kim

4 weeks tonight, that's all I can think of...it was 4 weeks ago tonight, 5:45pm that Abbie crossed over the Bridge...I truly cannot stand it. Here it is after midnight and I have to get up for work at 6am and I'm on this site, still grieving terribly for her. Is every "anniversary" going to be this bad? I can't stand it...I miss her so darn much and keep thinking it is going to get better, but it doesn't.

I'm not sure if the stress is from the fact I have to go out of town on business and board my dog, Dakota, for 2 nights so I'm so worried about leaving him. He's really only been boarded 3 times in his whole life (he's 14), so I am scared to death something is going to happen to him when I'm gone. I almost considered telling my boss I just can't go, but it would NOT be a good thing for my job. I even changed from a kennel to a Vet close to home so that if something "should" happen, at least he's at a Vet rather than just a kennel. He's had SO many health issues himself, it is pretty much a miracle he's still alive! My Mom used to say she had 4 kids (humans) and didn't go through what I've gone through with my animals. My dog has really always been kind of a "pain" in the you know what...some have told me if I hadn't gotten him, he'd have been dead as no one else would have put up with him. He can kind of be a "psycho" dog and very aggressive to people he doesn't know, but is normally very sweet and protective around me. So, regardless, of the 3 furbabies I had, he's the only one left and I feel so protective of him. I keep telling myself, "if it's meant to be, it's meant to be," as far as if something should happen to him. But, I'm just not ready.

Plus, the loss of my sweet Abbie is still just too, fresh and painful. I can't belive that this being the 4th week anniversary, that I still miss her so much. I wore a pair of capris today that I had not worn since last summer...had been in the batch of clothes I'd put away last fall, to be ironed when it was time to wear them again...a black cotton fabric, the kind white kitty fur just LOVES, and they were covered with her fur from last fall! Part of me was embarrased at work that they were covered with cat hair, but part of me felt like I was wearing them as a "badge of honor" and was somehow paying tribute to Abbie. I would just sit there, astounded, that it was HER hair from last fall, still around to remind me of her presence. Again, "she is everywhere." So, it all comes back...I want to hold her, to hug her, to rub her tummy and feel her little paws. I take two steps forward and two steps back.

So, I guess the lesson is, we miss them forever...we just somehow have to learn to exist without them. Sometimes, I think I just don't WANT to exist without her. Someone, in one of these posts, stated they are no longer afraid of death as they know their furbaby is waiting on the other side...I now understand that feeling.

I hope with all my heart, that in the next few weeks, I can really bring myself to find another kitty that needs a good home. She will be spoiled rotten!

I'm hoping someone that has been in this deep a sense of loss can really tell me/us there is a "light at the end of the tunnel," because right now I'm not feeling it.

In response to SHO713...

As I read back over posts I've written, I feel like The Poster Girl for "Please Stop Trying To Rush Through Grief". I completely understand your feelings about Abbie. My Spike will be gone a month on June 23, and I still cry several times each day. If I start to speak about him...to anyone...about good times or bad...my throat closes up, and the tears start.

You lost your dear Abbie in an accident. This adds the element of violence and feelings of guilt and regret that further complicate normal grieving. Making the heartbreaking decision to end Spike's life has similarly complicated my grief. Can we really expect ourselves to be OK with that in a month? I have had several pets that died peacefully in my arms. I mourned and missed them, but the emotion was not as raw and ragged.

I used to love supermarket shopping and would often stop after work often for an item or two and just browse in wonder at the abundance of it all. Now down almost every aisle and around each corner there's an emotional bombshell waiting to explode. For many people it's just the dog and cat food department, but Spike had multiple medical issues, meds and supplements to be taken as well as the usual appetite quirks. He ate baby food and used Depends-type pads for his incontinence. I used deli roast beef and turkey, cheese slices and cream cheese to try and disguise the many pills he took each day. He snacked on sugar-free corn muffins. Now even grocery shopping is a constant reminder of how much I miss that boy.

And oh, the anniversaries...first each day, then each week, every Tuesday and, I'm sure the 23rd of each month for some time to come will be very sad.
Week one was hell, week two a little better and in week three I was blindsided by grief as strong as the day I said good-bye to my sweet boy. "One step forward, two steps back" is an often-heard theme in these sites. I think there's a message in this pattern...that we don't "get better" all at once. Someone in this thread...sorry, I've forgotten who...compared periods of relief punctuated by bursts of grief as "bubbles"...grief comes in bubbles, with periods between bubbles getting progressively longer.

In 2001 I owned a red 1995 Mercury Cougar that I adored. It was the kind of car that wraps itself around you when you slide in and becomes an extension of your body on the road. Well, one fine evening, a young girl in a Jeep plowed into my car and totaled it. I got another car, a nice new red one, but it's not my Cougar. Whenever I see one on the road, I get a pang of sadness and longing.

That was five years ago, and I'm still mourning the loss of the feeling I got when I drove that car. Can I possibly expect to stop grieving a month after losing the sweet little animal who took a piece of my heart when he left after 14 years? I can't imagine how. I believe that we grieve to the extent that we loved, and I loved my sweet Spike more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I think I'll be having "bubbles of grief" for some time to come. If family and friends don't understand, that's OK. That's why I come here.

So, please treat yourself as you would a dear friend in the same cir%%stances, as you treat others in this forum. Allow the sadness to wash over you and be grateful whenever a "bubble of relief" comes along. Both are normal, neither needs to be judged, evaluated or labeled "Good" or "Bad"...they just are what they are. I expect that the balance will shift in time, but both will probably be there, in some combination, forever.

Be gentle with yourself, and please give yourself the healing gift of time.

Juanita

MY APOLOGY TO SHO713
I am so very sorry that I had your Abbie confused with another cat that died after being hit by a car. I should have reviewed all old posts before writing.
Juanita

Kim,
I think Zada's even better-looking than your husband...LOL!!!
Juanita

[QUOTE=Kim R.,Jun 19 2006, 10:30 PM]Oh my Gosh, that picture of your boys should be in calendars!! It is ADORABLE!! Did you pose them that way, or was that a natural position for them? TOO CUTE!

They cuddled like this all the time. (see below, when they were babies) They'd groom each other, licking each other's face at the same time, cleaning each other's ears. ...Then Mink would invariably grab Willow in a headlock.

[QUOTE=Kim R.,Jun 19 2006, 10:30 PM]I think that sometimes the hardest part of Sasha being gone is not only the obvious seperation from her, but knowing I will never have that kind of bond with anyone else ever again for as long as I live.

You know, it's funny. I used to think that too. My lovely Tinsica was with me for 18-1/2 years. I got her when I was 24, and she was with me well into my 40s. We grew up together. She outlasted grad school, my marriage (I should have listened when she began peeing in his shoes), and made it to this home where I am now. She was my companion, my confidante, my best friend. She followed me everywhere -- I felt badly for her on days I cleaned, following me from room to room. "No, honest, I'll be right back!" She sat in my lap, she slept on my belly. When she died, it was an amputation. She was truly a once-in-a-lifetime kitty, and I mourned never having that connection again.

Then I met Mink. Now, as I mentioned in an earlier post, he clearly recognized me from the moment we met. Whether he was Tin back for another go-round, I don't know. (I'm thinking not, because Tin visited me in dreams after Mink arrived.) But either way, but in his three short years, he was another "once-in-a-lifetime" cat. I'm choosing to believe that certain animal souls travel with us through life. Not all of them, but those select few who are ... well ... soulmates. They reappear, cycling back into our lives. Those of us who know how to bond with our four-legged roommates draw these amazing relationships, again and again. Not with every animal certainly, but the ones who cross our path like Kismet. "Oh! Hi! There you are..." ~Kimberly