This has been a very sad strange summer and now I'm in an even stranger phase of my grief journey. We've had Tucker for a little over six weeks now, he is great, very hyper and aggravating at times but I think he will grow up to be a good dog and I am glad I have him. Now we also have the kitten (the stray I caught) and he has turned out to be such a sweet lovable kitten. Last night he was sleeping curled up on my lap and I realized he has accepted me as his dad and it was a wonderful but sad feeling. I was Nikita's dad; every day for most of her life when I left I would tell her I loved her and would see her later, but I haven't allowed myself to do that with Tucker or the kitten. Last night as I sat there I realized I'm not sure I'm ready to be a pet dad yet, I am afraid. I keep thinking something will happen also my heart still aches for Nik. It is great to have a dog again and to have a kitty curled up on my lap but it has really put me into an emotional tailspin. This summer as been so surreal and now I have a taste of happiness but am afraid to take hold of it. All of this bears greater testimony to the impact of losing Nik has had on my life. I still miss her so much and always will.

John, I know exactly how you feel. Before I logged on this morning (which I don't normally do before I go to work), I was thinking about how I won't let myself move forward to happiness. It somehow feels like I'm pushing the babies I lost away. Like I'm leaving them behind and I don't want to. Yet, I know I need to move forward and begin to have some peace. Like you, this past year has been surreal for me too. There have been so many things in my life that have been beyond stressful and continue to be so. It's to the point that I feel a knot in my stomach when the phone rings because I fear it will be more bad news.
So, anyway, I understand where you're coming from. I understand not letting your new babies know you the same way Nik did. I get that! With the 2 cats we have now, I won't let my husband or me say things to them that we said to our boys-little phrases or words or songs. I keep walls up with them. I love them because they are animals and I'm happy for the life in the house but that's about it. I can't let myself bond.
I hope you have a good day today.
-Donna

Almost 8 weeks ago, after losing Cooper, we added Dori to our family. When we were still waiting to bring her home, I told my husband how nervous I was and scared. He said it wasn't fair to her not to love her as completely as we can. She deserved everything we had to give her. That really stuck with me. I loved Cooper more than the world, and he knew it, and I know I will never have that love and bond again, but I've opened myself to Dori. While I love her so much, I don't think she's been with us long enough to know what kind of bond we'll have. So I'm just trying to be patient. She's a puppy, so her personality is developing. I keep reminding myself, as special as Cooper was, it took time to know what my relationship would be like with him too. So I think we just have to give it time and be open to whatever may develop. Donna, I also went through not wanting to say Cooper's special phrases, etc... to Dori but would do it by accident because they were things I was so used to saying. At first it upset me, and even now, it still catches me off guard. But I'm just trying to go with it. When we lost Coop, it taught us we have to appreciate everything we have because it could be gone so quickly and unexpectedly. So that is what I really try to do now. Some days it's harder than others, but I'm trying.

My mother died in December 2008 after rupturing a subarachnoid aneurysm on December 8. After 10 days and no sign of consciousness, we made the decision to honor her wishes and remove her ventilator and she died on December 18.

To say I was a total wreck during those 10 days is a total understatement... my mother and I were very close and she was only 67 when she died. But I remember several times sitting at my desk crying or obviously upset when I'd feel something on my leg and I'd look down to see Winston sitting next to me, head in my lap and looking up at me with his huge brown eyes, as if he was saying "I'm here if you need me."

The gist of this is Winston knew I was hurting and wanted to do his part to make me stop hurting. Therefore, I've decided Winston wouldn't want me to continue to be sad for him and would want me to be happy, which I'm trying to do. That was a big part of our decision to adopt Pebbles... as a testament to our love for Winston we decided to share that with another puppy who needed us.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is moving on and healing from this kind of loss doesn't mean you're leaving your pet behind... it means you're looking forward, which is what I think our furry friends would want us to do.

John,

I'm sorry that you're having trouble "letting go" but it's completely understandable for so many reasons - you're still grieving Nikita, you feel guilty for moving on, you're scared to let yourself fall again, because you don't ever want to feel the pain you felt (and still feel) when you lost Nik. I think it's a lot like letting yourself fall in love again after being hurt in a previous relationship - it takes a long time to give yourself fully to another person. But the truth of the matter is - it's all a part of life. We have a choice of living our lives guarded with walls around our heart, or we can let go of the fear, and let ourselves love fully and completely, even though there is risk - because there is no better feeling than that in the world. At the end of the day, if we do anything but that, we are never truly living. Please don't put pressure on yourself though. Just take your time, simply be with them, and enjoy them for the unique animals they are. They are not a replacement of Nik, but another addition to your family.

Now I just need to take my own advice and pluck up the courage to welcome a new furbaby into my own life..

Let us know how you get on. Cheryl x

John,

I know exactly how you feel. My soul mate Callaway died September 16, 2009 and Brando died July 24, 2010. I had my dog Barney before they died and found my dog Oliver a few months ago. I don't know how to bond with Barney and Oliver. Callaway and Brando were my first dogs and I loved them so much! I told them both everyday, several times a day how much I loved them and I kissed them constantly. Now, with Barney and Oliver I try to be as close to them but I just can't. I've been trying to tell them I love them before I leave for work but it's not like it was with Callaway and Brando. Don't get me wrong, I do love them but not with the complete love that I had for Callaway and Brando. It makes me very sad because I realize what I don't have anymore and I feel bad because I'm not giving Barney and Oliver the love that they deserve. I think maybe it will come with time for me and for you, at least I hope it does.

Take care,
Rhapsedy

Hi John--

Just a brief note from me to add to all the good things everyone else has said. (My home computer service was knocked out in a storm and I'm on a time-limited library computer right now)...

See my thread "I worry a bit, Leopold and I aren't bonding," or whatever I called it, something like that. I've been having the same kinds of feelings since getting him. I miss Ladywolf even MORE sometimes because I have this infuriating but adorable new little guy in my life who is demanding my attention in ways that my dogs never did. I don't know what to think of what I have done, but all the while, my love for Leo is growing. My summer has been turbulent too, emotionally. Ladywolf died on June 5th, I got Leo around July 10--so, just a month later. It hasn't been an easy adjustment for me either...

Sorry to be so brief.......big hugs from Margi, Spiritwolf, and Leopold the Manic One

Hi, John, there are so many complexities to "relaitonships" aren't there? There are the "first loves" - - - which I do so understand. My Samson, a mixed Lab / Border Collie was a gift to me from my mom. He was my first canine companion ever in my life, at the age of 30 years old. We bonded so tightly, and when I was going through a very prolonged recovery and rehabilitation accompanied by a very dark depression he became my therapy partner. He knew what to do and when to do it - - he became my heartbeat. When he joined the angels I really didn't want to get another canine companion, but friends at Guiding Eyes for the Blind offered me a released puppy or a retired Service Partner, and I couldn't say no to their gift of love. And that's how Oslo, a retired Service Partner, came into my life 8 months after Samson. I loved Oslo, and we bonded, but it wasn't the same as it was between Samson and me. It couldn't be the same, and I didn't expect it to be. And loving Oslo did not interfere with my love for and memories of Samson - - not a bit. Oslo brought his own joy into my life, and we embraced all the different stages of our life together. When he joined the angels last November over the Thanksgiving weekend, it broke my heart, and I miss him very much, but I'm also older now, and I view things a bit differently than I did in my much younger years. In my grief of loss, I am also comforted in knowing that my two men are with one another keeping each other company, and I look forward to being with them again - - the both of them at the same time - - when it is my appointed time to join them in heaven's perfect garden.

I agree with what our fellow responders have shared - - our beloved companions do want us to be happy as we continue our journey on this side of eternity. Embracing the company of another precious companion is not being disloyal to the love we continue to cherish with our babies who are with the angels. Rather, it honors them for love is not restricted to the "here and now" - - for it to live means that it has to have an opportunity to grow and manifest itself, and the only way it can do that is to share it. That's hard to do when you're "looking backward." Our beloved companions do not was us "looking backward" - - they want us looking forward, and this includes new experiences of love and companionshpi as we continue our journey on this side of eternity.

As others have already so eloquently shared, this can only be achieved when you are ready, John. This grief journey is a "marathon", John - - not a "sprint." To accomplish a marathon you need to set your own pace, and it doesn't matter how long it takes - - the goal is to come to a feeling of "success" that will bring a sense of peace and calm and happiness to your heart.

I hope what I have shared, along with all the other wonderful responses, will help you. Enjoy what you can with your new companions, John. Sometimes love comes "softly" - - through the day to day routines. Perhaps one day you'll be looking at your new furkids and you will smile at how much you have come to love them - - just taking one day at a time.

John, please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hi John,

I'm glad I came here today and clicked on your and Margi's posts. It is comforting to know I am not the only one to be feeling this way.

I adopted a new dog a couple of weeks ago from the animal shelter. Chico had been gone 2 months. My new little pal is a wonderful dog. His name is Paco (this was already his name and I didn't change it). He's a 2 yrs old chihuahua/min pin mix I think, housebroken, never barks, has manners, obeys commands, etc. Plus he is so very affectionate and starved for love. He wants to cuddle all the time. He's almost perfect. But I feel bad because I know I'll never feel about him the way I did Chico, and still do. Chico was my heart-dog. I loved that dog with all my heart and soul. There is just no way I could love another dog that much.

I know it has only been a couple of weeks and I am hoping our bond will grow. I do love Paco and I am happy that I rescued him. Poor guy was in a cage for 2 months. But I have times when I wonder what I was thinking, getting myself into this commitment and responsibility and think maybe I wasn't ready yet. But I knew going in that no dog will ever fill Chico's dog-booties. And there are times when Paco just makes me miss Chico more. But overall, having another animal in the house does fill a void and a hole in my heart, so it is worth the doubts. And Paco has a home and family and out of that shelter!

As others have said, we just have to take it day by day and enjoy our pets for who they are individually. I only allowed myself to tell Paco that I loved him yesterday. I was surprised as I said it that I hadn't told him before. But he looked at me like he was deeply grateful when I did. Who knows..... he may be a heart-dog too one day.

Hi John,
I can so relate to what you are feeling now. I just lost my cat, Catzilla a few days ago, and I can't even think about getting another cat right now, I am such an emotional mess. But I know how I am, and in time when it feels right, I know I probably will. I know you are feeling like you might be betraying the loving memories of your sweet Nikita. But maybe look at it as honoring Nikita's memory instead. Even though my heart is broken now, as was yours, I also know the human heart has an amazing capacity for healing and renewal.
I was reading one story where this gal has had cats all her life and has lost many furry companions over the years. She looks at it like when one of her cats passes away he is kind of "paying it forward". Knowing that he has had a wonderful life with his special human, by leaving, he has opened the door and made room for another needy cat or dog to have the opportunity of having a good and loving home and having a special person to love and watch over him or her.
Don't feel like you are pushing aside Nikita, she will always be a part of you. Your heart is just bigger now and has room to share with another.
Cat Mom

cat mom:

First, I love the name you gave your loving cat, Catzilla. That made me smile, which for me right now is not that easy since losing Little Bit last week to a tragic asscident.

Secondly, I was really helped and intrigued by your assessment of our loving companions "paying it forward." How beautiful that was.