Sunday, August 7, 2011

Goodbye, love...

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger,
'Till they're before your eyes.

You'll come back, when I call you.
No need to say goodbye.

She went Friday night. Quietly, painlessly. The vet gave her a small sedative first, she relaxed and lay down the floor. I pulled her head into my lap, Tyler, my husband, held onto a paw. And she quietly left us. We stayed with her for another 45 minutes. She looked very peaceful.

Moving on has been exceptionally hard. I fed all three dogs like normal, I went to get her pain medication like normal. Hard habit to break.
I can't bring myself to remove her bowl, or her leash from the hooks.

She's being cremated, I should have her back Monday. The extent of this I'm not sure has set in. I feel completely numb and empty inside.

Cozmo is being exceptionally helpful and hasn't left my side. I don't know how to adjust to this.

Friends, co-workers and family have been exceptionally kind, sending me prayers, kind thoughts and other words of encouragement. I don't know how I could survive this without them.

Now, I'm coherent. I drop in and out of contact with everyone as I reach moments that I can't cope with, so if I am not replying to anyone... please don't think I don't appreciate your words or your thoughts. I simply can't always find ways to respond... saying 'thank you' over and over again causes a feeling of numbness. I turned off my phone last night.. I couldn't handle all the 'I'm so sorry' messages all at once. I know everyone meant well... but it was like repeating things over and over in my head. I had about 30 texts and 20 e-mails when I got up today.

I didn't reply to many... but I'm overwhelmingly touched by the amount of people who loved her, and love me.

This was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. She tried to comfort me every step of the way.

I promised her, when I brought her home... I told her I'd stay by her side until the end. This was her forever home - this was her last family.

I used to hate the people who put her in the pound. I don't know their story. Now I'm just grateful that I was able to find my Heart Dog.

Don't discount any dog because of size, age, or color. You don't know who they are, what they can become, or what they'll mean to you.

1 comment:

  1. I am so sorry for your loss; she was a beautiful dog. She was lucky to have you and her forever home.