Life Happens
I've been avoiding coming here because while I wanted to document everything that happened and everything I was feeling, I couldn't bring myself to think about it long enough (in cohesive sentences) to write it down. It doesn't matter, because the experience is indelible on my heart or soul or being. I'll never forget it. And I don't know if that's good or bad.
A month ago tomorrow I had to put Daisy down. Adam was out of town for work, which had always been the one thing I feared the most. I know if he would have been home, he would have helped so much, and he wanted to be there. It just wasn't meant to be that way. The last 24 hours I spent with that dog were so heartbreaking and humbling and nervewracking. And for the past month I've gone from feeling grateful to have been there for her, and to carry her into the vet's office and do what she was asking me to do, to feeling like I'm the one who killed her, when I know that's not right, or even logical.
I never realized how much I loved that fucking dog until she died in my arms. I kept petting her, and rubbing her ears, and behind her ears, my favorite places to pet her, and I told her how much we loved her and how much I'd miss petting her ears and how I hoped that now she'd be free to run and chase things, and to see and hear again.
I never realized how much that dog needed until I got home and didn't have to do all of those things. No more eye drops and cleaning out her eyes, no more standing in the doorway between the separate rooms the dogs ate in so she wouldn't eat Dewey's yummy food and Dewey wouldn't eat her prescription food, no more carrying her down the stairs to take her out more often than not, no more estrogen pills.... Knowing that she no longer had to endure things like that were the only bright spot, because all of those things were reminders of all of her health problems.
I feel forever indebted to my friend Kali, who drove the Jeep to the vet so I could sit in the back with Daisy, then was there for me when I wasn't sure if I could tell the vet anything in between tears. She spent a few hours with me afterward, so I could decompress and not go home to a house with only one dog (although I admit that going home to a house with no dogs would have been worse). We went to lunch at one of my favorite local places, then went to the gem show. She was looking for a couple different types of quartz along with turquoise rings and I didn't find anything I was drawn to. I was just stuck in "that place" and was wallowing in it a bit, with Daisy's hair still all over my tank top and jeans, walking around inside with my sunglasses on because my eyes kept tearing up. Why? Am I afraid to show people that I was sad that I had just taken my dog to the vet to be put down? Really, what's wrong with me that I'd give a shit what people think? I was already covered in dog hair and hadn't showered or anything. I was allowed to be unpresentable.
When I got home that afternoon, I felt young Daisy energy all around me. She was happy, and it made me happy. It reminded me of how the house felt when Adam and I moved in together and she'd meet me at the door and jump up on me, then nuzzle her forehead against my shins in her own special Daisy hug. I took Dewey to my sister's so he could run around and play with Lily, my sister's dog, because honestly, he'd been pretty freaked out by Daisy's condition over the last 24 hours, sometimes so much that he wouldn't come back inside. A funny thing happened when we got back home that evening. The house was still. Quiet. I didn't feel that young Daisy energy anymore.
The next morning Adam called me and was telling me about his drive the night before to the town he was in. He told me how he felt like Daisy was in the car with him and at times he swore he could smell her. Sometimes he'd look in the rear view mirror and almost thought he saw her. He asked if I'd felt anything like that, and I told him that I felt it in the afternoon after I'd gotten home, but not after I got back from my sister's, which made sense, since he did.
I had her cremated. That was the only way I could deal with it with Adam out of town for the next two days, although I know that he'd always imagined burying her himself. We compromised and buried her ashes in the spot that he envisioned burying her (under a huge, old oak in the woods behind his grandparents' pond). We hung her collar with her tags on the tree.
Last weekend we went down his grandparents' to walk in the woods and take pictures of the leaves. We have a picture of her from a fall day couple of years ago in which she was sitting underneath the tree that we ultimately buried her ashes under. I think it was because she looked so happy in the picture that Adam thought it would be fitting to bury her under that tree. Last week, as we walked through the woods, Adam said he felt her puppy energy all around us. It made him happy to be there, sharing the moment with me and her energy. I block myself from experiencing those things sometimes, as I've felt that I can be too sensitive.
A couple weeks ago while we were hiking with Kali and Jim, her husband, Adam was telling them about how on the way home from that trip he was on when I had her put down, he again thought he saw her in the back seat and her face morphed into a deer's face. This was significant because she loved to chase deer, and even looked like one as she'd run and jump through fields. Adam told Jim and Kali that he thinks that Daisy would be reincarnated as a deer in her next lifetime. It was right at that moment that I looked down and saw a single dog print along side a few deer hoof prints. I think we were all convinced that's exactly what she will be.
A month ago tomorrow I had to put Daisy down. Adam was out of town for work, which had always been the one thing I feared the most. I know if he would have been home, he would have helped so much, and he wanted to be there. It just wasn't meant to be that way. The last 24 hours I spent with that dog were so heartbreaking and humbling and nervewracking. And for the past month I've gone from feeling grateful to have been there for her, and to carry her into the vet's office and do what she was asking me to do, to feeling like I'm the one who killed her, when I know that's not right, or even logical.
I never realized how much I loved that fucking dog until she died in my arms. I kept petting her, and rubbing her ears, and behind her ears, my favorite places to pet her, and I told her how much we loved her and how much I'd miss petting her ears and how I hoped that now she'd be free to run and chase things, and to see and hear again.
I never realized how much that dog needed until I got home and didn't have to do all of those things. No more eye drops and cleaning out her eyes, no more standing in the doorway between the separate rooms the dogs ate in so she wouldn't eat Dewey's yummy food and Dewey wouldn't eat her prescription food, no more carrying her down the stairs to take her out more often than not, no more estrogen pills.... Knowing that she no longer had to endure things like that were the only bright spot, because all of those things were reminders of all of her health problems.
I feel forever indebted to my friend Kali, who drove the Jeep to the vet so I could sit in the back with Daisy, then was there for me when I wasn't sure if I could tell the vet anything in between tears. She spent a few hours with me afterward, so I could decompress and not go home to a house with only one dog (although I admit that going home to a house with no dogs would have been worse). We went to lunch at one of my favorite local places, then went to the gem show. She was looking for a couple different types of quartz along with turquoise rings and I didn't find anything I was drawn to. I was just stuck in "that place" and was wallowing in it a bit, with Daisy's hair still all over my tank top and jeans, walking around inside with my sunglasses on because my eyes kept tearing up. Why? Am I afraid to show people that I was sad that I had just taken my dog to the vet to be put down? Really, what's wrong with me that I'd give a shit what people think? I was already covered in dog hair and hadn't showered or anything. I was allowed to be unpresentable.
When I got home that afternoon, I felt young Daisy energy all around me. She was happy, and it made me happy. It reminded me of how the house felt when Adam and I moved in together and she'd meet me at the door and jump up on me, then nuzzle her forehead against my shins in her own special Daisy hug. I took Dewey to my sister's so he could run around and play with Lily, my sister's dog, because honestly, he'd been pretty freaked out by Daisy's condition over the last 24 hours, sometimes so much that he wouldn't come back inside. A funny thing happened when we got back home that evening. The house was still. Quiet. I didn't feel that young Daisy energy anymore.
The next morning Adam called me and was telling me about his drive the night before to the town he was in. He told me how he felt like Daisy was in the car with him and at times he swore he could smell her. Sometimes he'd look in the rear view mirror and almost thought he saw her. He asked if I'd felt anything like that, and I told him that I felt it in the afternoon after I'd gotten home, but not after I got back from my sister's, which made sense, since he did.
I had her cremated. That was the only way I could deal with it with Adam out of town for the next two days, although I know that he'd always imagined burying her himself. We compromised and buried her ashes in the spot that he envisioned burying her (under a huge, old oak in the woods behind his grandparents' pond). We hung her collar with her tags on the tree.
Last weekend we went down his grandparents' to walk in the woods and take pictures of the leaves. We have a picture of her from a fall day couple of years ago in which she was sitting underneath the tree that we ultimately buried her ashes under. I think it was because she looked so happy in the picture that Adam thought it would be fitting to bury her under that tree. Last week, as we walked through the woods, Adam said he felt her puppy energy all around us. It made him happy to be there, sharing the moment with me and her energy. I block myself from experiencing those things sometimes, as I've felt that I can be too sensitive.
A couple weeks ago while we were hiking with Kali and Jim, her husband, Adam was telling them about how on the way home from that trip he was on when I had her put down, he again thought he saw her in the back seat and her face morphed into a deer's face. This was significant because she loved to chase deer, and even looked like one as she'd run and jump through fields. Adam told Jim and Kali that he thinks that Daisy would be reincarnated as a deer in her next lifetime. It was right at that moment that I looked down and saw a single dog print along side a few deer hoof prints. I think we were all convinced that's exactly what she will be.