the end of an era
Toby died while I was at work yesterday morning. It was raining, and I buried him under the apple tree. The rain brought apple blossoms down in and on his grave as I filled it. It was a bit of poetry in nature that helped me.
Yesterday I could not write or speak the words “Toby died” at all. Not to my cousin with whom I email everyday, not on Facebook, not to my customers who also know him, not to anyone. I had to wait until I had buried him so I could post that (on FB) instead, to let people know he had gone.
On the one hand, I was not surprised because he WAS 16 years old. But on the other hand there was nothing wrong with him aside from his arthritis. He slept a good solid 8 hours Sunday night, and was a little stiff moving about yesterday morning but he gobbled down his breakfast the same as always. I can only imagine it was like you occasionally hear of: someone elderly but in good health sitting down after breakfast and never getting up again.
Toby was an amazing dog who lived forever past his expected age. It is incredible to me and I have been deeply blessed to have him in my life. People have said wonderful things about him on my Facebook page. It makes me cry every time I read it.
For Toby’s sake I am glad he is at rest. I know that he has had a rough couple months, especially once he couldn’t take the Deramaxx anymore he hurt a lot more. (But he was so much more peaceful, I can’t even tell you how glad I am that I stopped that drug.) After I laid him in his grave and before I buried him I knelt down and asked God if dogs had souls that Toby was even now running in a field with mom and dad, young and healthy again. Forget that rainbow bridge nonsense. I don’t want him to wait for me but to go and greet my parents with joy. He loved them too. Appropriately, the rain started pouring down at that point and I was totally soaked by the time I was done. I did not put the grass back over the top because I want to cover it in lilies of the valley, my favorite flower. It surprises me every time I look at it how tiny a grave to hold such a massive presence. Not that I thought it was tiny while I was digging it! But now that it holds my Toby it looks far too small for such an important job.
I really didn’t even cry much until after I posted it on FB and people started posting their sympathy. Every new message, email, text I get makes me cry a little more. Which is what I need, I think I was just numb for awhile.
Right after I buried Toby I went out to walk my normal Monday night dogs. That may surprise you, but I did not want to be in this house right then. (I also went to work this morning for the same reason. For me it was comfort. I didn’t have to see any people to make me cry and the dogs were only my dailies whom I love, and they made me smile.) When I got home later I went right to work. Toby’s bladder had let go when he died and there was a lot of urine on the carpet which had soaked through and into the hardwood floor below it. So I took up all the carpet remnants which I had laid down in the house for his traction and burnt them, then cleaned the floor with some pet stain stuff. I also took up the original carpet that was still tacked down in my bedroom. Then I pulled all the tack strips and cleaned the floor. Then I brought my bed upstairs and put it back together. It was like I just could not stop moving all day yesterday/last night. I did not want to hear the quiet. Also, in order for me to have any peace at all it was necessary for me to eradicate all traces of his elderly infirmity. The carpet, the bed, the raised food dishes. I’m not sure why. But I couldn’t sleep one more night on a mattress on the floor, not without Toby there to maybe crawl into it, even though he hadn’t been on my bed since Duke left at Christmastime.
I couldn’t eat at all yesterday and finally at 11:30 last night my energy just ran out and I had to stop in the middle of mopping the floors to shower and go to bed. I can usually always sleep when I have been feeling strong emotions, especially grief, but last night I could not fall asleep. Not until Burl came up on the bed and laid on my chest purring. Then he laid his little head on my chin and then I was able to relax and fall asleep. I only slept 6 hours though. I laid in bed for a long time this morning thinking how weird it was to not have to dash out of bed and into my clothes to get the dog out. And how I missed hearing his steps and his breathing.
I had been deliberately spending more time with him the last several months, petting him and brushing him and smelling his ears (I will miss those wonderful ears of his so much!!) because I suspected he did not have long left, whether he died naturally or I had to put him down. I even had taken to giving him extra kisses before I left the house each day, just in case. Recently he had been sleeping so hard that sometimes he would not even twitch when I came home, even if the door slammed. I always would go to make sure he was still alive, to see him breathe or pet him and his eyelid would twitch or he’d wake up. But yesterday the minute I touched him I knew. There is a certain ‘feel’ that dead bodies have that I learned well that winter I butchered all the deer, and Toby’s body had it. It was hard, emotionally, but not nearly as hard as taking him to the vet to be put down would have been. (Those of you that have done that have my utmost respect.)
On my way home from work today I was going to stop and visit my Aunt E, and maybe Billy, just so I didn’t have to come home to my empty house. But as I drove towards her house I thought about her saying she was sorry Toby died and I burst into tears and just couldn’t face human contact yet. So I came home. It really is not as bad as it could be since I changed everything right away. But I do wish it was next week already so I’d be doing 12 and 14 hour days at work. I won’t have to worry about how much work I schedule now. I have eaten since I got home and am feeling a little better. I even dozed on the couch for a bit with Burl.
I can’t really tell how Burl is taking it. Right now he is sleeping in his cat tree. He was in the house with Toby’s dead body, I don’t know if he was inside or outside when Toby actually died, but as I was going in and out of the house and leaving the door open as I dug the grave I did see Burl in his bed in the cat tree. And last night he was very nervous with all the work going on, plus he had never even seen my bed put together before - and he will be three years old in June! But he slept all night with me as usual. But today Burl has been going in and out of doors a lot, and following me around and laying on me anytime I sit or lay down. And I heard a couple of tiny cries from him a little while ago which just broke my heart all over again. I think he is looking for Toby. I always joked that me and the cat would be crying together when Toby died but I didn’t actually expect it to be true! Poor kitty, he loved Toby with all his little kitty heart, even after Toby couldn’t see anymore and would step right on him if he was laying on the floor in the way. He’s a pain in the ass cat who destroyed my 700$ couch, but he can be an utter sweetheart and I am glad he is here with me, since Toby would never let me get a puppy.
The biggest things that shock me every time is how small the grave is, and how totally barren the kitchen looks with no dog bowls on the floor. I hate my empty kitchen! Who would imagine that bowls would make such a huge impact? Also, I realized last night, when I went to write Toby’s death in my bible, that he died on the exact same day as my mom did 13 years ago. How weird is that?! Toby was three years old when mom died and yet he lived another 13 years after her. It’s such an incredible time span for a lab. I was only 29 when he came into my life! And I have spent probably less than a month of days in total apart from him since then. It’s going to be so hard, so lonely. Now that the first, desperate grief has lessened I am being caught by the small things. When I open the door I look to see where Toby is so it doesn’t hit him. When I ate supper there was no dog to lick the dish. When I am in the kitchen I wait to hear his steps coming to see what I am doing and if there might be food for him. I just expect him to be with me like always. And he is not. And it hits me like a fist in the gut every time.
But I had more than 15 years of love and utter devotion. It was well worth the (comparatively) short amount of time I will spend grieving for him. I will have other dogs, and I will love them. But none will ever come close to being what Toby was to me.
Rest in peace, my beloved.
Yesterday I could not write or speak the words “Toby died” at all. Not to my cousin with whom I email everyday, not on Facebook, not to my customers who also know him, not to anyone. I had to wait until I had buried him so I could post that (on FB) instead, to let people know he had gone.
On the one hand, I was not surprised because he WAS 16 years old. But on the other hand there was nothing wrong with him aside from his arthritis. He slept a good solid 8 hours Sunday night, and was a little stiff moving about yesterday morning but he gobbled down his breakfast the same as always. I can only imagine it was like you occasionally hear of: someone elderly but in good health sitting down after breakfast and never getting up again.
Toby was an amazing dog who lived forever past his expected age. It is incredible to me and I have been deeply blessed to have him in my life. People have said wonderful things about him on my Facebook page. It makes me cry every time I read it.
For Toby’s sake I am glad he is at rest. I know that he has had a rough couple months, especially once he couldn’t take the Deramaxx anymore he hurt a lot more. (But he was so much more peaceful, I can’t even tell you how glad I am that I stopped that drug.) After I laid him in his grave and before I buried him I knelt down and asked God if dogs had souls that Toby was even now running in a field with mom and dad, young and healthy again. Forget that rainbow bridge nonsense. I don’t want him to wait for me but to go and greet my parents with joy. He loved them too. Appropriately, the rain started pouring down at that point and I was totally soaked by the time I was done. I did not put the grass back over the top because I want to cover it in lilies of the valley, my favorite flower. It surprises me every time I look at it how tiny a grave to hold such a massive presence. Not that I thought it was tiny while I was digging it! But now that it holds my Toby it looks far too small for such an important job.
I really didn’t even cry much until after I posted it on FB and people started posting their sympathy. Every new message, email, text I get makes me cry a little more. Which is what I need, I think I was just numb for awhile.
Right after I buried Toby I went out to walk my normal Monday night dogs. That may surprise you, but I did not want to be in this house right then. (I also went to work this morning for the same reason. For me it was comfort. I didn’t have to see any people to make me cry and the dogs were only my dailies whom I love, and they made me smile.) When I got home later I went right to work. Toby’s bladder had let go when he died and there was a lot of urine on the carpet which had soaked through and into the hardwood floor below it. So I took up all the carpet remnants which I had laid down in the house for his traction and burnt them, then cleaned the floor with some pet stain stuff. I also took up the original carpet that was still tacked down in my bedroom. Then I pulled all the tack strips and cleaned the floor. Then I brought my bed upstairs and put it back together. It was like I just could not stop moving all day yesterday/last night. I did not want to hear the quiet. Also, in order for me to have any peace at all it was necessary for me to eradicate all traces of his elderly infirmity. The carpet, the bed, the raised food dishes. I’m not sure why. But I couldn’t sleep one more night on a mattress on the floor, not without Toby there to maybe crawl into it, even though he hadn’t been on my bed since Duke left at Christmastime.
I couldn’t eat at all yesterday and finally at 11:30 last night my energy just ran out and I had to stop in the middle of mopping the floors to shower and go to bed. I can usually always sleep when I have been feeling strong emotions, especially grief, but last night I could not fall asleep. Not until Burl came up on the bed and laid on my chest purring. Then he laid his little head on my chin and then I was able to relax and fall asleep. I only slept 6 hours though. I laid in bed for a long time this morning thinking how weird it was to not have to dash out of bed and into my clothes to get the dog out. And how I missed hearing his steps and his breathing.
I had been deliberately spending more time with him the last several months, petting him and brushing him and smelling his ears (I will miss those wonderful ears of his so much!!) because I suspected he did not have long left, whether he died naturally or I had to put him down. I even had taken to giving him extra kisses before I left the house each day, just in case. Recently he had been sleeping so hard that sometimes he would not even twitch when I came home, even if the door slammed. I always would go to make sure he was still alive, to see him breathe or pet him and his eyelid would twitch or he’d wake up. But yesterday the minute I touched him I knew. There is a certain ‘feel’ that dead bodies have that I learned well that winter I butchered all the deer, and Toby’s body had it. It was hard, emotionally, but not nearly as hard as taking him to the vet to be put down would have been. (Those of you that have done that have my utmost respect.)
On my way home from work today I was going to stop and visit my Aunt E, and maybe Billy, just so I didn’t have to come home to my empty house. But as I drove towards her house I thought about her saying she was sorry Toby died and I burst into tears and just couldn’t face human contact yet. So I came home. It really is not as bad as it could be since I changed everything right away. But I do wish it was next week already so I’d be doing 12 and 14 hour days at work. I won’t have to worry about how much work I schedule now. I have eaten since I got home and am feeling a little better. I even dozed on the couch for a bit with Burl.
I can’t really tell how Burl is taking it. Right now he is sleeping in his cat tree. He was in the house with Toby’s dead body, I don’t know if he was inside or outside when Toby actually died, but as I was going in and out of the house and leaving the door open as I dug the grave I did see Burl in his bed in the cat tree. And last night he was very nervous with all the work going on, plus he had never even seen my bed put together before - and he will be three years old in June! But he slept all night with me as usual. But today Burl has been going in and out of doors a lot, and following me around and laying on me anytime I sit or lay down. And I heard a couple of tiny cries from him a little while ago which just broke my heart all over again. I think he is looking for Toby. I always joked that me and the cat would be crying together when Toby died but I didn’t actually expect it to be true! Poor kitty, he loved Toby with all his little kitty heart, even after Toby couldn’t see anymore and would step right on him if he was laying on the floor in the way. He’s a pain in the ass cat who destroyed my 700$ couch, but he can be an utter sweetheart and I am glad he is here with me, since Toby would never let me get a puppy.
The biggest things that shock me every time is how small the grave is, and how totally barren the kitchen looks with no dog bowls on the floor. I hate my empty kitchen! Who would imagine that bowls would make such a huge impact? Also, I realized last night, when I went to write Toby’s death in my bible, that he died on the exact same day as my mom did 13 years ago. How weird is that?! Toby was three years old when mom died and yet he lived another 13 years after her. It’s such an incredible time span for a lab. I was only 29 when he came into my life! And I have spent probably less than a month of days in total apart from him since then. It’s going to be so hard, so lonely. Now that the first, desperate grief has lessened I am being caught by the small things. When I open the door I look to see where Toby is so it doesn’t hit him. When I ate supper there was no dog to lick the dish. When I am in the kitchen I wait to hear his steps coming to see what I am doing and if there might be food for him. I just expect him to be with me like always. And he is not. And it hits me like a fist in the gut every time.
But I had more than 15 years of love and utter devotion. It was well worth the (comparatively) short amount of time I will spend grieving for him. I will have other dogs, and I will love them. But none will ever come close to being what Toby was to me.
Rest in peace, my beloved.