sick with grief 💔

[christine dodge]

Below is the letter I wrote today to send to the rescue where we adopted our beloved baby, Walter. I have so much guilt surrounding his euthanasia. I felt like he went down so quickly. I was certain we had more time. Or was it slowly happening all along? Of course it was. I did needless things like paint my chicken coop for most of the afternoon on one of the last days of his life. I didn't know we'd be making the decision to let him leave us that weekend. I had an appointment to get his nails trimmed. Life was meant to continue on. Guilt, regret, what ifs are haunting me. Did we wait too long? Did he go too soon? What is quality of life? Is it the capacity for joy and comfort in spite of a myriad of issues, including cancer? My rational thinking is gone and I feel only gutted.

 

Hi there. This is Christine I. We adopted “Bartok”, who we called Walter, from you at the end of June.

I wanted to reach out to you and express how much we treasured our sweet boy.

Walter ❤️

From hour one, we were so absolutely over the moon in love with him and so invested in his wellness and our ability to have many happy years together.

I wanted to keep this brief but maybe it’s cathartic to put it all out on paper, so forgive me if I ramble.

Mid-summer, Walter had an “event” — we were seen at VEG (urgent care) after watching him stumble and fall over, seemingly out of nowhere. He was dazed and weak, almost limp. We immediately scooped him up and jumped in the car. The vets at VEG thought perhaps it was syncope but we weren’t really getting anywhere, except that tests at the first visit showed that he was dehydrated and had a urinary tract infection. This was news to us as he drank quite a lot and had only been with us for about four weeks, always peeing outside on what seemed to be a typical schedule. The lovely foster family who handed him over to us had noted the same. We are both home during the day so there was never a time he wasn’t being closely observed. Which is and always was a gift. They also said that some of the numbers indicating kidney health weren’t where they should be. He was given fluids, antibiotics, and a prescription for Gabapentin for arthritis that was seen on the XR of his spine.

With concern and in order to best understand the degree of care and attention necessary for his heart murmur (we hadn’t had any experience with heart issues), we made an appointment for an ultrasound with the head of cardiology at Oradell in July. We went home feeling triumphant that day. The cardiologist said that he had mild structural abnormalities but he wasn’t terribly concerned overall and to follow up in six months. He said he didn’t even think he required medication. I remember Dave and I leaving with big smiles feeling so very relieved.

The following month he began peeing inside which was strange because he had never done anything like that before. And he got out for potty breaks about once an hour, probably more. We were always, always with him. Since we had just completed a round of antibiotics from his visit at VEG, I was less concerned but wanted to be sure we weren’t overlooking something. Twice I brought urine samples back to our vet which were clear.

We had a seventeen year old Pomeranian who we had to let go of in early 2023 so we were familiar with all the facets of senior care. So we pulled out our soft little washable belly bands and carried on, assuming it could be part of the aging process if a UA/UC showed nothing.

In October he began having chronic and debilitating stomach problems that led us to multiple visits with Bond Vet in Montclair, where testing revealed another bladder infection. Nothing showed on the fecal so an abdominal ultrasound was suggested to us. He was not responding to any traditional treatment — Flagyl, clay tablets or liquid, a bland diet of chicken and rice with added electrolytes, we were even advised to try Immodium and finally Tylosin, which helped a tiny bit, we think, sometimes. After the ultrasound, the vets told us that they had discovered multiple masses on his kidney and liver and thickening of his intestine. That coupled with elevated white blood cells and other inexplicable symptoms like chronic diarrhea and loss of appetite led us to the diagnosis of cancer. We made the decision not to treat or explore the cancer, as we couldn’t put our perfect old man through any more veterinary appointments and testing.

He has been such a fragile senior all along — was unable to do more than two stairs without stumbling, requiring stickies on the bottoms of his paws for traction. I believe the curvature of his spine really affected his mobility. The arthritis making him so stiff and his limbs seeming weak, he would often topple over or require us to support his body while he stood over his elevated food bowl to eat. We carried him up and down the stairs every time he needed to go outside to stretch his legs and go potty. We took him on walks every day that he seemed well enough for it. Sometimes it was two long blocks, on less good days it was a half of one, or he wouldn’t walk at all and we’d go back inside.

I’d say for almost the entire month of November we had to hand feed him. He wouldn’t take pill pockets or any special treats he previously loved. Dave was getting up with him and carrying him outside multiple times through out the night with a flashlight while he tried to go to the bathroom, or did go. Over and over.

On the Tylosin in the month of December, he finally started sleeping through the night — most of the time. I think December was a pretty good month. But the baseline and the scale of good days versus bad begin to blur and become distorted. Was a good day one where he slept most of the day and ate a couple of bites of food and didn’t have diarrhea? Well, compared to the other days it was. But of course, we know, it wasn’t. So December was filled with those kind of “good days”. We managed pain with Gabapentin, we substituted our living room rug with a Japanese floor mattress that we would cover with a clean plush blanket every day. It was essentially a giant dog bed and it was incredibly cozy as we all stayed close together at home during the holiday season. We watched movies with Walter and Fiona on that bed, listened to Christmas music, wrapped gifts, my husband sat on the floor with his computer and worked from that bed and later when Walter’s nights got worse again, Dave slept on that bed with him to be closer to the back door.

We understood after the two month mark of these GI issues that Walty’s stomach wasn’t going to be okay anymore. Nothing at all seemed to be able to halt, slow or change the trajectory of things. In the recent weeks he began vomiting and retching, as well. He couldn’t sleep through the night with any regularity. Even if he didn’t have to go to the bathroom, he was trying to go, or he was pacing, seeming lost.

All of the medical talk aside, boy. Did we ever love him. He got all the kisses and cuddles and ear massages and time and attention and care that we had to give. He slept in bed between us every single night since he came home with us in June. Towards the end of his time being sick, he really began to cuddle back. It had seemed foreign to him at first but on the last day of his life I woke up to the feeling of his paw on my arm and when I opened my eyes, he was looking at me. He radiated love.

I want to say that even if we knew this was going to be the path with him at the start, we wouldn’t have had it any other way. He was a loving, quirky, exceptional gentleman and we spared nothing to make his last months, weeks, days as filled with warmth, comfort, love & peace as possible. All I keep thinking is that what I really wanted, for him, was a happily ever after that wasn’t so brief.

I like to imagine that he was someone’s baby before. He was so gentle. He moved about so quietly and was non-reactive — we only ever heard him bark when he was dreaming. We took him everywhere with us. He laid on the beach on a sunny day and saw the first snow. I am writing to you with tears in my eyes just wanting you to know how thankful we are for the beautiful work you do. It gave us six months that we will cherish forever. Walter said goodbye on January 16, at home, with us. He ate ice cream, steak and French fries and blueberry pound cake for breakfast that morning. No amount of time would have ever been enough with him.

Below is our joyful announcement of his joining our family last year. Walter lit up our lives.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CvKmD0IrQZB/?img_index=1

[KayC]

I am so sorry you lost your baby.  You took amazing care of him...life just isn't fair and I am so sorry for you and your family.  You gave him an amazing life for the short time you had him.  
Comfort for Grieving Animal Lovers

I hope this short video brings you some comfort and peace.

 

[foreverhis]

What a bittersweet, touching, and loving story.  You gave your Walter the best months of life, filled with everything a dog could want.  I do know how hard it is, how shattering, to help lift a companion animal up out of their pain and any suffering.  Guilt and the "What if" questions haunt almost all of us.  We don't feel like what we do is ever "enough" and the time we have with them most certainly is not.

I want to mention something a friend reminded me about many years ago.  Our beloved pets live in the present, the "now," so that what they experience today is what they know life to be.  As humans, we can understand that some things will get better.  If we break a leg, we suffer pain and frustration, but we also know that down the road a bit, we will recover as the break mends and our body heals.  Our animal companions, while they can be plenty smart, do not have that in their minds.

Of course I didn't know your Walter, but do you think it's possible that he woke you that last day in the way that he did, touching you and radiating love, because he was trying to tell you that he was ready?  Could he have been saying, "I love you so much.  Thank you for rescuing and loving me.  You've given me the best months I could imagine.  It's time to say goodbye, for now, and I'll see you at the Rainbow Bridge"?

Nothing can really make things better or easier, I know that too, but I hope you will try to keep in your heart and mind that you gave all of yourselves to Walter and he gave you himself in return.  In my experience, there's little in life that's better than knowing the love of a special pet.

I'm sending you virtual hugs and I'm going to go hug my cat Cosi right this minute.💗