I just wanted to say I've been beating myself up again for about 4 or 5 days now for some reason. I don't know why it seemed to start all over AGAIN -- the "should have's, shouldn't have, wish I would have, why didn't I, etc." I know I'm not doing myself or anyone any good by doing that, so I'm still praying that some day I'll be able to come to terms with it all -- having Hannah put to sleep.

I talked to a couple of friends, and they both helped. I remembered a couple of poems I want to post again that help me, and a new one I found too. I hope they bring comfort to you all too.

I miss my babies so. I have just read some very beautiful tributes on this site from some of you and although heartbreaking, it's just so good to know there are such kind, loving people out there like you all.

She Is Gone
You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she's gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and lose your mind,
be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
-- Author Unknown

Please Don't Feel Guilty

Please don't feel guilty. You don't need to. I don't want you to be rough on yourself. I heard you speak last night. I heard you say how guilty you are for what you think you didn't do right. You did more than I ever would have expected anyone to. You loved me through it all. I never doubted your love for me. Whatever decisions you made, I know were made with my best interest in mind. Please don't feel guilty. It breaks my heart to hear you speak of your guilt. You don't need to feel guilty. Please don't.

--Betty J. Carmack
From Grieving the Death of a Pet

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end. There will be no more sunrises, no days, no hours or minutes. All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten,will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance. It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.
So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will all expire. The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won't matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you lived.
It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant. Your gender, skin color, ethnicity will be irrelevant.
So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you got, but what you gave.
What will matter is not your success, but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.
What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage and sacrifice that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not your competence, but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a lasting loss when you're gone.
What will matter is not your memories, but the memories of those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.
Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident.
It's not a matter of cir%%stance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters.

~ by Michael Josephson ~

I still want to do something one day that will make the world a better place too, so I know I can't keep on drowning in my sorrow. I know I have much to be thankful for still.
Marcia
Baby Hannah's Mom and Babe's Mom

Dear Marcia:

I'm glad you shared what you've been thinking, what's on your mind......

It DOES COME BACK, at times..... Really, it does!!!

YOU WILL BE ABLE TO COME TO TERMS WITH EVERYTHING.....WHEN YOU ARE READY....
THAT DAY WILL COME, MARCIA.... I PROMISE!!!!!

I want to thank you soooooooooo much for all of the poems that you take the time to
type out, in your posts.........
They help me....
And, for that, I sincerely THANK YOU!!!!!!!


One month after our sweet girl, Ernestine was put to sleep.........Ben and I found that the silence in this
house was DEAFENING!!!!!!!!!!!

We adopted our sweet Ms. Lucy and "Yo-Yo Ma" or "Yoster", or, he'll
even answer to "Lucy"....

But, Ms. Lucy has been very ill, on and off, for quite awhile now...
And, I look at all of these posts, and it's like, I'm trying to do "all the right things this time".... You know???

With our beautiful Ms. Lucy, I DON'T WANT TO HAVE THE: "I WISH WE DID".........OR, "WHY DIDN'T WE"...........
"WE SHOULDN'T HAVE"..............

******It's like, "I'm trying to 'correct the wrong', even before it gets here"....
Something like that....*****
But, it has nothing to do with "correcting the wrong"..... It's life.... The way it goes.....

But, for right now........she's okay, she's stable... ..... We have a wonderful veterinarian (finally!!)....

After Ernestine, I "sweared" I would never, ever get another cat again..............
But, we just love too much NOT TO LOVE.....
(I know that you know that!! )

You are ALWAYS IN MY THOUGHTS AND MY PRAYERS, MY "ANGEL" MARCIA..........
Truthfully, and honestly you are.....

Sweet Marcia, we ALL WANT TO DO SOMETHING TO MAKE THIS WORLD A BETTER PLACE!!!.
God knows that's true!!!!!
That is something that you cannot "shoulder" all by yourself!!!!!

But, yes............you have so much to be thankful for, as do I, my friend......

So, we'll just "go on from here", and we'll all be just fine.....

God Bless you, Marcia!!!!

Love Always,
Denise

Thanks, Denise. You're always so encouraging. Yes, I understand what you mean about trying to do all the right things THIS TIME, correcting the wrong, etc. I am glad little Ms. Lucy is doing okay right now.

I believe you are right that when I am ready, the day WILL come that I will be able to accept and come to terms with all of this. I pray about it all the time. I read something else last night before I went to bed, and it sounds awfully familiar to me --

From No Ordinary Moments: A Peaceful Warrior's Guide to Daily Life
By: Dan Millman

" . . . Sorrow comes from our attachment, based on a perception of loss that at more expanded states of awareness becomes an illusion. Higher wisdom dictates that life holds no ultimate gain or loss--only deeper understanding.

We do not need to resist or avoid sorrow. Sorrow is a contraction of energy, but it is also a normal response to loss. The problem with sorrow lies not so much in having it or feeling it as in fighting it, denying it, and trying to get rid of it, which only gives the contraction more energy. If we let it be, sorrow, will, in time, burn itself out like a candle flame. It only becomes chronic when we don't allow it expression or release."

That sounds like me sometimes. I just feel I can't stand the pain, the longing, the loss, and I want it to go away. When that happened to Babe, I really started feeling that way -- like it was just all too much for me. You know, like sometimes I think if I start crying, I'll never be able to stop or something like that. I wasn't sure I could handle having little Hannah put to sleep. I really thought I would die too, but I didn't, although a part of me did.

I like to think of the poem that Zoey's dad wrote for Little Man -- I can't see you with my eyes anymore, but I can see you in my mind ... I can and will remember you with all my love." That is such a beautiful poem and so true.

Thanks again, Denise, and you know what, this site has made the world a better place for so many of us, and each of us has contributed as well by being there for each other.

Marcia
Baby Hannah's Mom and Babe's Mom

Hey Marcia,

I know those feelings all too well. I just went through something similar last week:
"Why didn't I take her in sooner, why didn't I get this, that and the other done for her, if I'd insisted on a simple blood test at her annual checkup...etc etc etc." One seems to go into a negative emotional loop about it.

My mother, and the counsellor I'm seeing both said similar things: "Why don't you go round and round in a loop about what you did for her that was RIGHT?" It's true, and I'm working on it.

Hope you are feeling better.

Big hugs.

Hi Marcia,
I am so glad you posted those poems and that final essay. I meant to ask you to send that to me via email--because you read it to me over the phone and it really touched a chord with me.

If it is one thing I have absorbed over the past few months it is that our grief seems to be individual to each of us. You will share some similarities with others, but grieving is a very personal and very individual process.
When I hear your story I wonder how on earth you can be upset with yourself..you were a wonderful mommy to Hannah and she could not have had a better owner! You did all you could at all times and yet you are still wondering if you could have changed the outcome. Remember the last time we talked you said you knew many different cir%%stances could have played out even worse than they did. But I know nothing I say can really make any difference, if you are still "angry" with yourself --nothing I say will change that. (I don't feel you should be angry with yourself --but, if it is how you feel its how you feel! you are entitled to any of the feelings you feel!)

The death of our central figure best friend leaves a scar!! It may heal and the pain may ease but the mark is always there. And fortunately the wonderful memories of Hannah are always there also.
There doesn't seem to be right way or wrong way to grieve. People grieve in their own time and in their own way. Your Hannah and my Ginger are "gone". Through bereavement we learn to live without them. I love the simple words of St. John Chrysostorn, a bishop living in the fourth century:

They who we love and lose are no longer where they were before. They are now wherever we are.

thinking of you!
Love,
patti

Dearest Marcia,

Please don't be hard on yourself for having a relapse from time to time. I have those same feelings at times as well. The second guessing will drive you insane, but only if you allow it. When I had Little Man put to sleep, I too had all this doubt as to whether I did the right thing or not. All the questions in my mind---why didn't I get a second opinion? Maybe I gave up on his outcome to quickly. If I had been the one sick, wouldn't I have exhausted every available option to try and save myself? Then I remember it was Little Man himself who told me I was making the right decision. No, not in words, but he told me through his actions.

He was blessed with good health right up until a few days before the end. And I am so thankful for that. He was almost twelve and if he had lived a few more years, there is no telling what kind of terrible health problems and pain and suffering he may have developed. It's the same with your beautiful little Baby Hannah. She had lived a long and happy life and she couldn't have possibly been loved more by anyone than she was by you.

The decision to euthanize is the most difficult decision a pet lover ever has to make. I believe all of us who have had to make the decision will always have at least a little doubt as to whether we did the right thing. A few days after I lost Little Man, my heart was breaking and looking for some kind of comfort. I happened to come across a poem that addressed my situation and it helped me immensely. I'd like to share it with you and I hope and pray it will help you too.

FRIEND TO FRIEND

You're giving me a special gift,
So sorrowfully endowed,
And through these last few cherished days,
Your courage makes me proud.

But really. love is knowing
When your best friend is in pain,
And understanding earthly acts
Will only be in vain.

So looking deep into your eyes,
Beyond, into your soul,
I see in you the magic, that will
Once more make me whole.

The strength that you possess,
Is why I look to you today,
To do this thing that must be done,
For it's the only way.

That strength is why I've followed you,
And chose you as my friend.
And why I've loved you all these years...
My partner 'til the end.

Please, understand just what this gift
you're giving means to me.
It gives me back the strength I've lost,
And all my dignity.

You take a stand on my behalf,
For that is what friends do.
And know what you do is right,
For I beleive it too.

So one last time, I breathe your scent,
And through your hand I feel,
The courage that's within you,
To now grant me this appeal.

Cut the leash that holds me here,
Dear friend, and let me run,
Once more a strong and steady dog,
My pain and struggle done.

And don't despair my passing,
For I won't be far away,
Forever here, within your heart,
And memory I'll stay.

I'll be there watching over you,
Your ever faithful friend,
And in your memories Ill run,
...a young dog once again.

IN Memory of Asta, Feb. 1997
© Karen Clouston

And Marcia, I want to thank you for all the wonderful poems you've posted on this site. They have helped so many of us and you're an angel for caring so much. Please just keep talking with us as much as you need to. We are always willing to listen.

May God bless and keep you,
__Jim

Thank you so much Patti, Steph and Jim. I appreciate your support very much. Yesterday, it was 140 days, 20 long weeks, since my I've seen my little girl . . .

I love the poem, Jim. It is true, I know. I know Hannah was very sick, and I believe I knew at the time that it was the right thing to do. I didn't want my little girl to suffer, and she was suffering. I didn't want her to die alone, and I didn't want her to get to the point actually where there was no doubt -- I say that because that point would have been when she could no longer walk, eat or anything. I didn't want to let that happen to her.

I just can't get over though about the money. I still can't get over that. I could have easily spent another vet visit on her. They only charged $19!!!!! to put her to sleep. I keep trying to remind myself that it COULDN'T have been about the money, but I did tell the grief counselor that I didn't want to spend anymore money to have their vet tell me the same thing!!!!! My God, I cannot believe that now. I never even met the man who I let take my precious little girl's life. At the last minute, I did get him to examine her -- I said maybe this isn't the right thing. He said she was very sick, and that I was doing the right thing. So . . . But later, when I talked to him (after I went on the Internet and found there were treatments for heart murmurs, etc), he said, "well I didn't know how much money you wanted to spend!" Why didn't he give me the option? Why didn't he ask me? ?????

But he also said that she was so sick that he didn't know if she could have handled the stress of the vet visits, the treatements, etc., and there was no guarantee that she would have gotten better. No guarantee -- but couldn't I have tried???? I would have had to do something about her bad teeth too, and I was so afraid. Her other vet said she wasn't a good candidate for that surgery because of her heart murmur and her age, but she might make it! I was so afraid she wouldn't, I didn't even try! I did take her to the vet many times in the last few months, and I talked to one of her old vets on the phone several times. I don't think they did Hannah and me justice either because neither of them suggested I could do anything to help the heart murmur, but then I go around the circle back to myself again -- I didn't ask, and I didn't do any research!!!! Jim, I relate to what you said -- I've certainly spent tons of money on myself, and I would have certainly done something if it had been me, wouldn't I? Why did I not do it for Hannah? I loved her more than I love myself, or at least I always thought I did. That's not saying a lot though because I really find I'm hating myself for all of this. I feel so stupid, so stingy! A little part of me keeps saying this is not true. I had Hannah for amost 16-years. I must have done something right! I just keep thinking in the end I failed us both, no matter what I did during our entire lifetime together!

I am afraid to post this. It's so awful. I emailed that online email grief counselor. I am just so sick about all this. I know it goes against all the good advice and all the good poems we've all posted. I know I have to get control of myself or this IS going to kill me too, sooner or later. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! I get to feeling better and then I get obsessed again! I have prayed and prayed about it too, but here I am. I feel embarrassed for myself and sad for little Hannah, so sad. She was such a good little girl. I was so proud of her. She can't be proud of me right now. She screamed when they stuck the needle in her. She SCREAMED!! It was as if to say, NOOOOOOOO!!!!! MOMMY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Lord, help me. I think I am going to lose my mind, if I haven't already. Please forgive me. Help me forgive myself.

Dear Dear Marcia
Things happen for a reason. My baby Max had Cushings disease and I found out after the fact. I ask why didn't I research it sooner. Why didn't I do things earlier. But I feel that Max had a plan for all this. He had been through so much when he lost his kidney and he didn't want to go through any more. That's why I didn't know the symptoms of Cushings disease. He had tests most of his life. Special diets and lots of vet visits. He had to get needles in his belly. I know he endured this and when the Cushings came along, he said, "I've had it". His little heart just stopped beating and no matter what they did at the hospital, he would not come back. He wanted this. No more pain and suffering.
This happened to your baby Hannah also. All the things that led up to your final act of caring for her, happened so this would be the outcome. She planned it this way. Her yelping at the last needle was to let you know how much she would have suffered if she had to have more needles and tests and probing. Hannah wanted to ease your mind somehow and felt this would let you know. She wanted to escape all the tests and everything else, and she knew you would have done anything to save her. I would definately have tried to save my Max from the Cushings. He didn't want it. This was his way of letting me know he wanted to end it all peacefully. Hannah was in your arms. She had made her decision already. She wanted peace and what better way than in her mommy's arms. She loves you and wants you to remember her when she was healthy. One of your poems helped me so much. It's been only 3 weeks, and I cry everyday. I printed your poem and I am going to put it with his ashes. Hannah is peaceful now. My little Max was brave and went into the back with the vet. That thought still kills me. But I think he knew. I think Hannah knew. She doesn't want you to suffer any longer. She knew it was time. You had sixteen long beautiful years with her.

We are all here for you
Love, Carol

Thank you so much, Carol. I read your post earlier today, but am just now responding. Your post helped me to get through the day. Thank you so much for sharing your perspective. I do imagine our babies were tired. Little Max was so brave, that's for sure. I know the three-week mark is such a difficult time, Carol.

I talked with a couple more friends today too, and they helped just by listening too. I told one girl I work with that I just didn't do anything to save Hannah. After I hung up the phone, I thought, of course, I did. I did! Just not at that last minute, but I carried Hannah around in my arms and took her to the vet many times during her last few months. I fed her antibiotics and pain medicine mixed with ice cream and water in a dropper. I put medicine in her little eyes for months and months every day. I loved that little girl, and I did so love babying her and caring for her. I wondered today what part of me is trying to make me discount all the things I did??!!

Anyway, thanks to you and the others here at LS (always) and a couple of other people, I am feeling much better tonight. I really was UPSET earlier, obviously. I knew the move to the new apartment would be stressful, and it was. I am still not quite done, plus I have had more days at work without two days in a row off for awhile now, so I am exhausted. I haven't been sleeping, etc. -- ya'll know.

You might guess I felt somewhat embarrassed about this last post, but then I realized that just getting all these feelings out must be helping too. Of course, all of you always have some comforting words to say.

I too believe things happen for a reason. I guess I temporarily forgot all about that stream of thought! If I can get through this and come out whole, I think I'll be a stronger person and, I hope, a better person. You know, I'll have to say, I thought I would die when Hannah died; obviously, I didn't, except that I realized also today if I keep going the way I have been lately, it will just kill me slowly!

I went to the doctor today. I had been taking antidepressants, but stopped a few weeks ago because I didn't think it was helping. The doctor gave me a hug and said to keep taking the medicine and to let go of it - he basically said "we all get old, and our bodies just wear out, and we die. Just let go of her, he said. There was really nothing more you could do."

I still have Maggie, the 8-year old Poodle I adopted from the shelter (the one who killed Babe). I found a wonderful home with 3 kids and 2 other dogs for the puppy, Max. Maggie is slowly trying to get close to me, and I am trying to let her. We were both so hurt and so lonely. I told her -- somebody she loved left her, and somebody I loved left me. I don't blame her for Babe. I try not to think about that too much, but I miss my that sweet fellow too. But Maggie doesn't know what she did. She didn't mean to do it, and I am thankful I was able to understand that.

Carol, I am glad you liked the poem -- which one is it?

Love,
Marcia

Oh Marcia, please don't be embarrassed about your torment. I know I have gone through the same thoughts about putting my dog down too.

He had that seizure and in the space of 60 seconds lost so much of his bodily function and personal quirks, it was just awful. He was on a cycle of pacing for 3 hours and then dropping exhausted on his bed and sleeping for 3 hours, then back up for 3 hours, on and on and on, for about a week. Our vet had basically abandoned us; so on the net we had read that after a seizure these are the symptoms, and they clear up after a few days and we were waiting hopefully for that.... but he didn't get better. At the end he was stumbling alot too, falling, because his legs weren't working right. I was having to pick him up every 5 minutes the last couple of days there. He also seemed to have lost sight or most of his sight in one eye, and that side of his face was paralyzed too I think, because I gave him a bowl of water while he was on the couch and he was drinking it by sticking his tongue out one side of his mouth. How I wish they could talk so he could have told me what all was wrong.

But even with all these things, which are apparently irreversible brain damage, ie he could only have gotten worse, no better... even with all that I would have been willing to feed him with a syringe and take care of him if I could have. He just got weaker and weaker -- the last night at the Vet Hospital they said his heart rate was 1/2 what it should have been, which means his brain stem (controls all basic functions like breathing and heartbeat) was damaged. They gave him an IV overnight which helped a bit, the next morning he was struggling to get off the gurney instead of just lying there like a rag as he had been the night before.

This all sounds so horrible, doesn't it? But I am telling you because even as awful as it was, when they brought him into the room that morning, as soon as he saw us he started trembling like he always did at the vets, and I wanted to take him home so bad. I let the vet and my husband talk me into staying and putting him down right then, but he wanted to go home and I knew it. I wish so bad I had insisted on taking him home for the day and having someone come to the house later to do it. But I was weak, I let the other people there influence me, and I went along with it but now I keep thinking, maybe he would have stablized and recovered a little bit, or maybe I should have at least let him die at home, not at the vets. He just wanted to go home. He was scared and I hate thinking that he knew what was coming, it just kills me. Of course he couldn't have, animals don't have the awareness that we do, right? but it still tortures me.

So I try to just tell myself that he would not have wanted to live in the state he was in. He was a beautiful bird dog, he floated through the foothills here like a gazelle when he was younger. At the end he could walk, barely, he was having more and more trouble eating, even if I had fed him with pureed food and syringes of water, he probably would have aspirated the food/water at some point. Or had another seizure. I was thinking all of that, I was just thinking I had to let him go, but now I also wish I had brought him home for at least a few hours. then I think well what good would that have done, really.. and he was big, 70 lbs, it took two to carry him etc, it was getting very hard physically. And how could I have ever managed to let him go at home either....

See, I go around and around too just like you are.

He was so sweet. My hus was sitting on the floor in the exam room and they got Jake off the gurney and put him on the floor and he just kind of stood there. Then my hus called him, and he managed to walk the few steps over to him and stood next to my hus with his head pressed against my husbands shoulder, as if to say goodbye.

I'd give anything to have him back. I don't know if I did the right thing, if it was anybody else's story I would have NO doubt; and I know everyone says I/we did, but how can *I* really know? I can't, I guess. I just have to accept that it happened. Your doctor is right, we all get old and our bodies give out. Fighting it in your mind is torture; Accepting what happened is the key to peace. In spite of how much we hate having to lose them, it was their time to go.

Dear J4lorn,

You said if your post was someone else's post, you would KNOW they did the right thing. That is exactly what I thought as I read your post. You did ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING HUMANLY POSSIBLE to save and help your baby. I know you would like to have had him come back home, even if only for awhile, but I believe he was ready to go -- but not home to his earthly home, but to the Bridge and/or Heaven. He must have been so tired. He would not have wanted to live in that shape, for sure. I can just imagine him floating now like the gazelle once again!

You were NOT weak. You did the right thing, even though you didn't want to. You did what your baby needed. I am so, so sorry you had to go through all that. Yep, we go round and round, many of us, but one day, I hope we will be able to let go and remember the love, such a special, special love. I have been wondering lately if God knew how much love his little animal children bring into our lives and I realized, of course, he knew that when he created them. They give so much joy, comfort, companionship and love to so many people who otherwise might be awfully lonely without them. But gosh, it is so very hard to let go.

I feel much better today because I received so much help from so many people, including the wonderful people here. That's not to say I may not again experience these terrible, sad feelings, but I hope not. I pray for us all to find peace in our minds and hearts. Please, please know you did the right thing.
Love,
Marcia

I am glad that you are feeling better, Marcia. It is such a tough process, grief is. You have always given so much to people on this site - I know you did with me. May you find peace and blessings!

dee dee