MY BELOVED SABLE
I am new this forum and I am having problems dealing with the loss of my rottweiler.
I had to put my beautiful 13 year old rottweiler Sable down last week. She was great but about 10 days ago was having problems getting up. We took her to the vet and walked her with a towel under her belly but her back paw were curving in, she had nerve issues. The vet thought possibly a slipped disc so we gave her a steroid shot and some muscle relaxers and inflamation pills. He said keep an eye on her until the medicine was gone. She started to look like she was moving a little better but still had to be belly walked especially when she had to go outside to the bathroom. Her eating and drinking and personality was fine. On last Wednesday night she took a turn for the worst and really couldn't get up at all. I took her back to the vet in the morning we were going to try another steroid shot. But when we tried to get her up this time, she couldn't stand at all on either the back or the front. We had to put her on a stretcher. The vet said that she had almost no nerve feeling in her hind legs and could see that in her eyes she was distressed. To be kind to her and her quality of life this was no way for my special baby to live. It would not be fair for her if she could not get up or down or be able to walk outside to go to the bathroom.
I made the toughest decision ever and that was to put her down. I stayed with the whole time. It happened way to fast. My 13 years with her gone and a few hours. I know that it was the right thing to do, she was 13 years but I am sick about it and don't know how to go on. I thought that maybe someone else could give me some insight and what they think. Also hoping that others that have done this before will say something to me that may help.
I am so alone and don't know how to go on without her. I am keeping all of things the same for now, I am not ready to let go.
Please help!

Dear Kimmy

First let me send my heartfelt condolences at this very sad and distressing time. Your Sable is such a beautiful girl, and it is so clear to see how much she's loved and cherished.
I had to let my precious Tasha go in a similar way, also at the age of 13, and I too was heartbroken and full of so many mixed up feelings. That was 5 years ago, but I still think of her as being here with me. Almost 2 years ago I lost my Noushka, also aged 13, but I wasn't with her at the time she passed, as she was having treatment at the vets. I couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't with her. No matter how our precious pets leave us, we always have the guilt and doubts and sorrow and despair.
I do truly believe that they remain with us forever, and I see and experience many 'signs'. It brings me so much comfort, and I'm sure that in time you will also experience the same.

We cannot let our precious companions suffer, so it falls to us to protect them and ease them from any further suffering. You were there with her and she would feel your loving presence. Please take comfort in that, if you can. I know it's very hard right now, but it will bring you some comfort, it just takes time, to work through all the emotions.
There are so many wonderful people on this forum, who understand and will be able to help you in whatever way they can.
Please let us know how you are, and maybe tell us more about your darling Sable.
My thoughts and prayers are with you.
Hugs
Jan and my Angels and Pixie x

Dear Kimmy,

I am so very sorry for your loss. Your Sable is beautiful. That beautiful Rottie face just reaches out from the picture. I can only imagine how your heart is breaking. Losing our best friends like you have just lost your Sable is really probably one of the hardest things we'll have to go through, there's no two ways about it. I don't think there's really anything anyone can say to truly ease your pain, but it helps to know there are people who do understand. Being with your baby for those final moments is something you will always be glad you did, even though it was unspeakably difficult to experience. I am sure that it comforted Sable to know that the person she was closest to and felt most comfortable with was there by her side for her final moments on this earth. Having had two dogs with serious mobility issues, I can tell you that at such an advanced age and with all four legs having lost feeling, it doesn't sound like there was much choice and you would have only been choosing to try to keep her here for yourself had you acted differently. I hope that you will find some comfort here in sharing your feelings with others who are going through and have gone through this and know everyone understands you. You are most definitely not alone, even though you might feel that way. Take care.

Valerie

Hi, Kimmy. I am so, so sorry for your loss of your beautiful Sable. I completely understand the pain and shock you are going through right now. I lost my best friend kitty a week ago and am a huge mess. I also lost my best-dog-in-the-world Dingo nine months ago and will tell you a little bit about his story since it is more similar to what you're going through right now.

Dingo was 13 and totally fine when he suddenly started limping. We thought it was his arthritis acting up and weren't too worried, but we brought him in to the vet, anyway, just to be safe. An x-ray showed that a tumor had developed on his knee; the only hope for treatment was an amputation of Dingo's leg if the cancer hadn't already spread.

We were totally taken aback and worried about the risks of surgery because he was older but were willing to go ahead with it to save his life, so we ordered a chest x-ray to see if the cancer had spread. The chest x-ray came back clear, and we were so happy.

But then my vet decided to order an ultrasound just to make extra-sure there was no cancer anywhere else. We were all expecting a clear ultrasound since the chest x-ray had come back clear (this type of cancer usually spreads to the chest first). We dropped Dingo off for his ultrasound, never suspecting that that day would be his last on earth. At the last minute, something made me give him a huge hug and tell him that I loved him, and I am so grateful for that.

A few hours later, my vet called with the devastating news that the ultrasound had shown an adrenal tumor, a bladder tumor, and a blocked kidney (likely caused by another tumor) in addition to the bone tumor he already had. She said things were about to get really, really bad, and we needed to put him to sleep to prevent some major suffering that was about to occur. We couldn't believe it - except for the limping, Dingo hadn't looked too bad.

My husband and I both cried and cried. Dingo had already been under sedation from the ultrasound, and it seemed kinder to put him to sleep while he was still sedated, so we rushed over to the vet's for our goodbyes. We held onto him the whole time. It all happened so, so fast. Even though my vet (who is really, really an awesome vet) assured us repeatedly that we were absolutely doing the best thing for him and preventing a world of pain for him, I was haunted for weeks afterwards. Did I act too hastily? Was there anything else I could have done? How could we have put him to sleep when he didn't look like he was on death's door? How could he have been fine a few days ago and then suddenly now gone? Even though I know logically and from what my vet told me that he would've started suffering very badly pretty much the next day, I was terrified that I had made the wrong decision and just violently, physically ill about everything. I cried nonstop for weeks.

It was only much, much later, after the worst part of my grief had subsided a bit, that I came to be very grateful for the way things had happened with my precious boy. The fact that things had happened so quickly, while horrible and shocking for us, meant that his quality of life had been very good almost right up to the very end. Although we hated to say goodbye to him while he was sedated, it meant that he left this world peacefully and comfortably and without any fear. And I reminded myself that I trusted my vet - she had always taken such good care of him - to know better than us that things were about to get very bad. I am now glad that Dingo, who was truly the most gentle dog ever, didn't have to experience things getting very bad.

But getting to this point took a lot of time. I know you are hurting so badly now and that it seems like nothing will ever get better. For the first couple of weeks, I really felt like I was going to die. The pain does get better eventually, but very slowly. I am so, so sorry for your pain and just wanted to let you know that there are others out there who really understand what you're going through, care about you, and want to help in any way we can. My pets are like children to me (and I have a human child), so I know how you feel.

I didn't know how I would go on without my boy, either, and now I feel that way about my kitty, too. I am still a total wreck, but I think often about something my husband (he is a great guy who was also totally crushed by the loss of our boys) said to me about Ollie (my kitty) when I told him I didn't know how to go on without him. He said, "If your life ends because of this, if you are never happy again because of this, then having him would have been the biggest mistake of your life. And I know you don't think that having him was ever a mistake." He is right; Dingo and Ollie would be absolutely horrified at the thought of their mama never being happy again.

That said, I know how you feel, and my heart breaks for both of us. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers today, Kimmy.

Love,
Terri

Hi, Kimmy, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the loss of your beloved Sable. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we have been blessed with the privilege of their company. Euthanasia is the last gift of love we can give to our beloved companions - - at great sacrifice to ourselves - - so that they can once again be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels.

During the deep grief it is very normal to feel like we cannot go on, to feel as though life itself has lost all meaning. When our beloved companions come into our hearts and homes our lives are changed for the better. And they change again when they precede us to the angels. Only this time we are blessed with the gift of having been their caregiver during their earthly journey, and blessed to share a love bond that is not limited to the physical laws of time and space. Kimmy, love is eternal - - and you are forever blessed with your precious Sable's sweet Living Spirit in your heart and memories. She is forever with you wherever you go and whatever you do. She continues to share your earthly journey just as she always has and always will - - for she is forever a heartbeat close to you.

This grief journey is not one of "getting over" the physical loss of our beloved companions. It is rather a journey of "adjustment to" the physical loss. We live in a physical oriented world - - sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. Every time our beloved companions rub against us they are defining us as belonging to them. In addition, every time they rub against us, kiss us, etc., they are transferring our "scent" to them which identifies us as belonging to them. They give to us their unconditional love and undivided attention, and we in turn surrender ourselves to them completely without reservation. These are some of the many reasons why it is so painful - - both emotionally and physically - - for us to "adjust" our lives without their precious sweet physical presence with us when they precede us to the angels.

This grief journey is a one day at a time journey, Kimmy, sometimes a one moment at a time journey. One of the many things for you to remember during your grief journey is that you are not alone. Each of us here do understand what you are feeling and what you are going through, and we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

Unfortunately there are no "fast forward" or "delete" buttons to press to make this grief journey disappear. The only way through this horrible pain is to allow yourself the opportunity to grieve so that one day - - when you least expect it - - you will find yourself smiling when you remember your precious Sable - - but it takes healing time to get to this point, Kimmy - - in your own way and in your own time.

Kimmy, right now there are no adequate words in any language that can soothe the seering pain that is in your heart. I can only hope that at least some of what I have shared with you will be of some comfort and encouragement to you. Thank you so very much for sharing your precious Sable with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Kimmy, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Dear Kimmy,

I'm so sorry for the devastating loss of your beautiful girl. Gosh, I remember all too well how painful the early stages of grief are -- from the gut-wrenching sobs, to the numbness. The almost physical ache in your heart and heavy hollowness in your stomach. The red, burning eyes and feeling constantly drained and exhausted. The disbelief, the anger, the loneliness ... this really IS one of the hardest things we ever have to go through.

I know that, right now, you feel as though you'll feel this way forever. But, trust me, it does get easier with time. Don't get me wrong, it never gets easy, just easier. We will always miss our babies physical presence... but in time we learn to adjust to their transition. Kimmy, a love and bond so strong cannot die. Not ever. Your precious Sable will always be with you in her own way, and your memories and love for her are yours to keep forever. Nobody, nothing, can ever take them away from you. I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, because in the early stages of grief it's too much to comprehend -- you just want her physical presence back!! -- but, I promise you, that in time you will begin to gain some comfort from this. There's that word again -- 'time'. And, unfortunately, that's all that you can give yourself. You are about to embark on a long journey, but it's important that you realize that you're not alone on this journey. There are wonderful people on this forum, always willing to offer an understanding and supportive heart. We are all here for you, for as often, and as long, as you need us to be.

Please, try to take care of yourself. Try to drink plenty of fluids, and try to eat something, even if it's just little bits. Grief can physically take it's toll on your body, so you need to try and keep your strength up.

I hope you return and let us know how you're getting on. I'll be thinking of you in the meantime.

Cheryl xx

Dear Kimmie

First, let me join the voices in expressing my sincerest sympathy on the passing of your dear Sable. She's BEAUTIFUL! Her story so reminded me of my Gretta's passing on April 10. Some neurological problem that, at one point, my (wonderful) vet thought might be a shoulder tumor. She limped off and on for almost a year - better some days, worse others. But she was getting slower and slower and I didn't want to face it. I just walked slower and slower and shorter and shorter with my darling girl. Even around the block she'd be laggin behind by the time we made it around. OMG - this winter in MN was horrible, so I started counting down the days from 100, thinking that day zero would be the week after Valentine's Day - and the back of winter would be broken. I felt so sorry for my Gretta (a 13-year-old, rescued chocolate lab , the kindest dog who ever lived, who lived with me for three and a half wonderful years). it was so cold and she had to go out in it four times a day. And the winter went on for 30 more days. It broke a little, but my Gretta was still slow. One Saturday, we walked slowly around the block at 5:30 AM, crept (our neighbor called it struggling) around at 10 AM and then by 3 PM all she could do was stand up in one place. I asked the boyfriend of one of my neighbors to help me get Gretta into the car and drove her to the U of MN vet school clinic, which miraculously was open 24/7. They came out and told me she was in pretty bad shape, probably with at least one and maybe more disc or spine problems, rapidly worsening. I was so scared (and I'm still deeply regretting this) that I asked them to keep her overnight - how could I know that it would be her last night on earth and that I wouldn't be there to comfort her? The next morning they called me with so more bad news, among which was that she hadn't voided for over 24 hours. I knew it was the end, so I asked the vet if it was time. She didn't say so directly, but I knew she meant it was. I raced over to the vet school and made the most terrible decision of my life. They brought Gretta out in a wagon because she couldn't walk. They lifted her onto my lap as I sat on the floor. As I cried adn hugged her and told her how much I loved her, I nodded OK to them giving her the shot. She breathed deeply two tiimes and then was gone. I couldn't watch as they lifted her back into the wagon but I did ask to see her face just one more time. That beautiful face - that image is still embedded in my mind and will be with me until I join her in the perfect World to come.

Kimmie, I didn't mean to pour out my story when you are so newly suffering the passing of your Sable. This site has helped me a lot - especially by confirming my belief that animals and people are basically the same 'stuff' - their souls are interchangeable. Once or twice in a lifetime, one's soul-mate animal finds you and puts him or herself in your path and you meet each other and instantly recognize that you're carrying a part of his/her soul and s/he's carrying part of yours - that you're two halves of the same being. Me and Gretta. You and Sable. We;ve been together isnce the beginning of time and will be until the end of time. Love has no beginning and no end. Whoever made this universe made our spirit animals' lifetimes on earth here much shorter than ours. And so one of the things our soul-mates have to teach us is how to show the ultimate strength and love for them by releasing them from their suffering. We have to take all the pain and grief and suffering on ourselves so they can be free - or as my vet said when he learned of Gretta's passing, "She's in a safe place now." And she is and so is Sable. Watching over you, nearby you, taking care of you, leading you to things like this site (out of all the millions of web sites there are), loving you and receiving your love - exactly as before. You just can't see Sable, or hear her or touch her, but she's definitely there. Where there is love, there is Sable. And FOR SURE you will be reunited in the safe, warm, beautiful place with Sable one day, as I will be reunited with Gretta.

It hurts so much, especially at the beginning. it feels like someone has shot you in the heart and you're bleeding to death. The days are agony, so are the nights. One of the things I did was get one of the soft pillows they sell on this site. They're pricey but it has meant a lot to me to have something to have and hold and cry into and talk to, something of my Gretta. Another thing I do is write a diary to her - just tell her what I've done and ask her if she's OK and if she remembers the mailman or the vet or the yippy beagle across the block.

Day by day, tiny moments of relief will come to you - all sent by Sable, who's watching over you. Very, very slowly there are more of these and, while you're not happy, at least the knife is momentarily out of your heart. I'm just two months ahead of you on this lonely road - and still crying but not all day every day (but every time I write on Lightning Strike!). We WILL all be together aftet while. Please take some consolation in this, Kimmie. And please lean on all of your Lightning Strike friends as often or as many times as you need and want to. Everyone's grief journey is different but, really, those of us who have been blessed enough to have been found and loved by sour soul's other half share a special grief. We're there for you, for each other, and together we will all make it to the Perfect World.

Take some peace if you can, my friend. Sable loves you, so do Gretta and I. Until tomorrow .....

Gretta's mom

Hi, Kimmy. Just wanted to say hi and that I'm thinking of you and hoping you're doing okay.

Love,
Terri

Hi Kimmi

How are you doing? Every day is different, but just know that everybody here is traveling that long, lonesome road. We're humans, so we don't quite get it in our gut that love is forever and once we have loved and been loved by our special spirit animal, it's forever.

Your travelling companion,

Gretta's mom