I spent over a year wanting a dog so badly. It had been recommended that I have a companion animal by my doctor to help with my mental health problems, but I was always in unstable living arrangements and have been desperately poor, but I finally got an apartment where I could have a dog, and I had been at my job for a while, so I spent a few months looking for the perfect dog for me. After a few months I got a call from a lady at a rescue project who said she thought she had found the perfect boy - an older German Shepherd/Doberman mix who had been abandoned and was facing doggie death row because of his age. I commit right then and there, sight unseen, to taking him, and it was the best decision I ever made. (I have since been laid off)
Sully came to me at 105 lbs - so overweight that he could not get in the back of the car without help, and a real struggle up and down stairs. I put him on a diet right away, and after just a few minutes with him he and I had bonded immediately. He was so gentle and sweet and very desperate for love and attention - something I don’t think he had gotten much of in his life before I found him. My friends called him “The Love Sponge,” among other names (Schnuffy, The Big Fuzzy, Schnuffivan)…
I was going through some really terrible personal problems in my life. There were times when I was suicidal and would have gone through with it if it weren’t for the fact that I had this sweet wonderful animal that needed me, depended on me, and I couldn’t go away because then there would be no one to look after my Loved One. He was the best thing in my life, my reason to get up in the morning, and sometimes it felt like the only friend I had in the world.
The apartment I moved in to a few months later was infested with fleas. Even though Sully had the drop treatments on him, they just kept coming back. I fogged, I sprayed, I treated, I shaved the dog, I shampooed, I threw out half of my belongings (I literally have no furniture left, I sleep on the floor), all to no avail. I got to the point that I just decided it was something we would have to try to keep under control as much as we could, but that it was a simple fact that we couldn’t get rid of them and we would just have to wait until we could afford to move.
Over the last month, I had finals at uni, I was overloaded with personal, financial, and academic problems and stress. The fleas I just let go. Sully got weaker and weaker. After finals, I had to rush Sully to the emergency room because he was so weak he could barely stand. They wanted $1500 to give him a blood transfusion, treat him, and nurse him back to health. $1500 when I can barely afford to buy groceries. The whole time I had been in denial about the state my dog was in. He didn’t want to go for walks any more but I attributed it to his age and his arthritis. Day by day, my dog wasted away, and I was too stupid and selfish to fix it.
The day after I took him to the emergency room, Sully stopped eating. I took him out once and he went a total of ten steps, I got him back in the house and he just collapsed, breathing so hard, completely wiped out like he had been running for hours. I knew in my heart that he was about to give up on me. I lay on the floor with him and held him as he started to shake, covering his face in kisses and crying my eyes out, begging him not to go, telling him that I couldn’t go on without him, but he started to go cold, and I knew he would go. I managed to sob to him, "Okay, I know you're leaving, please go baby, I love you, don't hurt." And then he shuddered, and there was nothing.
I don’t believe any of that junk about the rainbow bridge, or dog heaven. Sully is gone and I will never see him again. If I weren’t so miserably destitute, I could have saved his life - the most important thing in the world to me, the light of my life, my reason to keep going and live this horrible existence. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt about the state he was in when he died - a state that I should have been able to stop, if I had only had more time, or been more attentive, or if I weren’t so wretchedly poor. I feel like the biggest piece of garbage, and I wish with all my heart that I had been the one that was sick and not my sweet, innocent, loving dog. I would have traded places with him in a heartbeat.
There are moments that I feel this crushing grief, this hole in my heart where he used to be, this terrible wound in my soul, the empty place on the floor where he used to lay is terrifying and sinister and I can‘t even look at it, I hate my life, I hate the world, I hate the circumstances that brought us to this place, and I really just don’t want to live any more. My chest hurts constantly like I’ve been punched, the loss of him and this guilt is physically painful to me and I just don’t think I can stand it. I have nightmares that I killed him; I can hardly sleep - I go for two or three days before I try, just to keep the mental images away. I just don’t know what to do now.
Everyone tells me that Sully was lucky to have someone to love and care for him for the last year of his life, but I don’t see it that way. Sure, I rescued him, but it was my fault that he died, also, I caused him suffering when he never complained, and would never, ever hurt me. He deserved so much better. I know that I should seek help because I am just so overcome with grief that I don’t think I can go on with my life, but I don’t know how I will be able to do that, and I really don’t have the motivation to seek it out. Nothing has any importance any more.
Full Version: Crushing
I have only been on this forum for a few days myself and offering condolences is not my strong suit, but I couldn't help but be moved by what you are going through. Sully is gorgeous and looks the kind of best friend anyone with a heart would be honored to know. It is heartbreaking to hear about your loss. All I can do is offer my empathy and relate some similar pain that I've been going through.
I just spent a ton of money, pretty much everything I had beyond rent and food for myself trying to save my cat Dzambala. He developed a fast progressing kidney disease and he was only seven years old, so I was determined to stabilize his condition and bring him back to health. Unfortunately that wasn't in the cards. I lost him last Saturday after a month of trying everything in my power to turn him around. I'd always thought that cliche about having one's heart ripped out was cheesy, by that's exactly what it felt like for the first few days, and now I just feel this great emptiness.
Like you, I've struggled with mental health problems, and having a furry companion with boundless affection and non-existent judgment was the best medicine. In my case it was depression and alcoholism. I went through a lot of hard times with that little guy, from a separation and divorce, deaths in the family, the changes of moving to a new state, bombing out of grad school due to my alcoholism. Through it all, he was always there, demanding to be loved and to love in return. There were times when knowing that he needed me was the only thing that kept me doing what I had to do to stay off the streets and put one foot in front of the other each day.
Since I started turning my life around over the last couple years, I hoped that he would be with me to see me successful, to go back and finish grad school and start being a fully independent adult for once. But that wasn't to be.
I am not going to give you anything about doggie heaven. I pretty much don't believe in that stuff myself. Other people do, and they mean well enough by it. What lives on is the impact that they had on our lives. They pushed us to be better people, to love more fully, to care for something besides ourselves, to better our own lives. We shared what may be the closet thing to unconditional love with them, the knowledge of which can never be erased.
This may all be cold comfort in the pain that you feel right now. I know how defeating the cycle of depression can be especially when faced with a loss, but try to do whatever you can to reach out for support wherever you can find it. If you have friends or family nearby, then seek them out. There may be some a support group or low cost option for counseling in your area if nothing else. And finally, the people on this forum have been through similar loss of their nearest and dearest mammals and are very supportive. Just whatever you do, hang on and take care of yourself.
Sincerely,
Chris
I just spent a ton of money, pretty much everything I had beyond rent and food for myself trying to save my cat Dzambala. He developed a fast progressing kidney disease and he was only seven years old, so I was determined to stabilize his condition and bring him back to health. Unfortunately that wasn't in the cards. I lost him last Saturday after a month of trying everything in my power to turn him around. I'd always thought that cliche about having one's heart ripped out was cheesy, by that's exactly what it felt like for the first few days, and now I just feel this great emptiness.
Like you, I've struggled with mental health problems, and having a furry companion with boundless affection and non-existent judgment was the best medicine. In my case it was depression and alcoholism. I went through a lot of hard times with that little guy, from a separation and divorce, deaths in the family, the changes of moving to a new state, bombing out of grad school due to my alcoholism. Through it all, he was always there, demanding to be loved and to love in return. There were times when knowing that he needed me was the only thing that kept me doing what I had to do to stay off the streets and put one foot in front of the other each day.
Since I started turning my life around over the last couple years, I hoped that he would be with me to see me successful, to go back and finish grad school and start being a fully independent adult for once. But that wasn't to be.
I am not going to give you anything about doggie heaven. I pretty much don't believe in that stuff myself. Other people do, and they mean well enough by it. What lives on is the impact that they had on our lives. They pushed us to be better people, to love more fully, to care for something besides ourselves, to better our own lives. We shared what may be the closet thing to unconditional love with them, the knowledge of which can never be erased.
This may all be cold comfort in the pain that you feel right now. I know how defeating the cycle of depression can be especially when faced with a loss, but try to do whatever you can to reach out for support wherever you can find it. If you have friends or family nearby, then seek them out. There may be some a support group or low cost option for counseling in your area if nothing else. And finally, the people on this forum have been through similar loss of their nearest and dearest mammals and are very supportive. Just whatever you do, hang on and take care of yourself.
Sincerely,
Chris
Dear Fel, I don't know what to write that seems adequate for the size of your loss - but it sounds like you gave Sullivan the greatest love of his life, you rescued him and you guys found each other, that's a big deal, it's hard to find that kind of love, whether it's for a year or twenty, it's a gift, seriously. You didn't cause his death, you did everything you could within possible boundaries and you can't judge yourself because of where life finds you, you sound like you are doing all you can to get ahead, even in the face of serious depression, which is also a big deal ( about 15 yrs ago I took 18 months or more off from university and life because of depression, and then all the money issues cos you're not working...) I think when some people talk about Doggy heaven or animals living on they mean what Chris said - the relationship you had has changed you forever, and the unconditional love you get can only change you in good ways and is then part of you forever. I lost my best friend of 17 yrs about 6 wks ago, she was my rock and helped me through so much, when i lost her there was a massive gaping hole in my life and my heart and i didn't know what to do with any of the minutes in the day, please take care of yourself
Thank you so much for answering. I sometimes feel that I am crying to empty space. I know we are strangers but the fact that someone answered me made me cry and cry, I never thought anyone would respond.
I am so sorry about your baby Dzambala. It's good to know someone else is out there that has lost a baby that carried them through hard times. Now I am experiencing the hardest times of my life - losing him - and he is not there to help me through. They say the devil is in the details... I didn't realize the truth of that until my Sully went away. I know now that I used to always say, "Hi baby!" in this certain tone only for Sully every day when I came in the door, because now I start to say it when I walk in, and realize I am talking to no one. I also just realized that I used to give the last bite of everything I ever ate to him ... (he was old, he deserved to eat junk food...) Now I hate to eat at home, because it reminds me of what is missing. I can't sleep at my house any more either - because Sully was always there, I would always cuddle with him and scratch his belly, and sometimes he would tuck his nose under my chin... every time I hear a stray noise in the house, I attribute it to that dog, until I realize the impossibility, that he is gone forever... I have slept only a few countable hours since he died June 22nd.
You're right; it literally feels like someone ripped your heart out. I know it sounds cheesey, but it's the truth: I would have cried less over a human relative.
I have read articles that say that we spend far more time with our animal companions than we do with humans. For me, this rings true. I swore off relationships a long time ago; I am a full-time college student, my parents live over 2000 miles away from me, I am introverted and fine with that, as long as I have my dog (but now I don't have that). Where do I go from here? I too suffer from alcoholism and severe depression/mental disorder. What do we do now, Chris? You pour all your heart and soul into your baby trying to save their life, and they ditch you anyway.
But... one foot in front of the other...
I know this is not written for a cat owner, but the following poem has given me strength and comfort lately - so I am posting it here to share with you in the hope that it helps... My dog was a shelter baby (more like shelter ancient) from doggie death row, and I am sure if he could speak, this is just about what he would have to say about his own will...
A Dog's Last Will
When human beings die,
they write their testament:
to leave their home
and all they have
to those they love.
I'd do such
(if I could write)
to a poor, desperate, lonely stray:
I'd give my happy home,
my bowl and cosy bed -
my soft pillow and my toys...
the so-loved lap.
The tenderly-stroking hand,
the lovely voice,
the place I had in someone's heart -
The love, that at last
helped me to find a peaceful end,
held firmly in a sheltering embrace.
When I die, please don't say:
"I will never have a pet again,
the loss is too much to stand!"
Choose a lonely, unloved dog
and give him MY place.
This is my inheritance -
the love I leave behind
is all I am able to give.
<3, Fel.
I am so sorry about your baby Dzambala. It's good to know someone else is out there that has lost a baby that carried them through hard times. Now I am experiencing the hardest times of my life - losing him - and he is not there to help me through. They say the devil is in the details... I didn't realize the truth of that until my Sully went away. I know now that I used to always say, "Hi baby!" in this certain tone only for Sully every day when I came in the door, because now I start to say it when I walk in, and realize I am talking to no one. I also just realized that I used to give the last bite of everything I ever ate to him ... (he was old, he deserved to eat junk food...) Now I hate to eat at home, because it reminds me of what is missing. I can't sleep at my house any more either - because Sully was always there, I would always cuddle with him and scratch his belly, and sometimes he would tuck his nose under my chin... every time I hear a stray noise in the house, I attribute it to that dog, until I realize the impossibility, that he is gone forever... I have slept only a few countable hours since he died June 22nd.
You're right; it literally feels like someone ripped your heart out. I know it sounds cheesey, but it's the truth: I would have cried less over a human relative.
I have read articles that say that we spend far more time with our animal companions than we do with humans. For me, this rings true. I swore off relationships a long time ago; I am a full-time college student, my parents live over 2000 miles away from me, I am introverted and fine with that, as long as I have my dog (but now I don't have that). Where do I go from here? I too suffer from alcoholism and severe depression/mental disorder. What do we do now, Chris? You pour all your heart and soul into your baby trying to save their life, and they ditch you anyway.
But... one foot in front of the other...
I know this is not written for a cat owner, but the following poem has given me strength and comfort lately - so I am posting it here to share with you in the hope that it helps... My dog was a shelter baby (more like shelter ancient) from doggie death row, and I am sure if he could speak, this is just about what he would have to say about his own will...
A Dog's Last Will
When human beings die,
they write their testament:
to leave their home
and all they have
to those they love.
I'd do such
(if I could write)
to a poor, desperate, lonely stray:
I'd give my happy home,
my bowl and cosy bed -
my soft pillow and my toys...
the so-loved lap.
The tenderly-stroking hand,
the lovely voice,
the place I had in someone's heart -
The love, that at last
helped me to find a peaceful end,
held firmly in a sheltering embrace.
When I die, please don't say:
"I will never have a pet again,
the loss is too much to stand!"
Choose a lonely, unloved dog
and give him MY place.
This is my inheritance -
the love I leave behind
is all I am able to give.
<3, Fel.
The devil is definitely in the details - it's all those little things, little habits, you wove into your life together without even knowing you were doing it, for me i missed them like nothing else, each little first and realisation that you won't do that together again, crazy stupid pain...when i lost my girl i told the vet that there were people i would gladly have swapped for her, she laughed, but i meant it, and there are definitely people i would grieve over less...in the days and weeks after i lost her i never thought i would feel better, and i'm still grieving for her, but a week ago i adopted a new boy (which i didn't think i would do for months) and he is really helping, take care
Thank you Leejaye. Sometimes I feel empowered, like I did right by Sully and all that I could.
Other times, I feel that I failed miserably, and should have done more. Then, the guilt eats away at me.
What is right? I really can't tell now. But I do know that Sully and I had a good run... a really, really good run, for only being 1¼ years with me. I consider myself insanely lucky to have found such a wonderful dog before he was disappeared off this planet. I just can't shake this feeling like I could have done more, that I could have saved him if I tried harder.
Somewhere, I read that grief is "anger turned inward" ... I think that is exactly what I feel now... hatred even, turned to myself, for not saving him.
When I do remember him consciously, I try to make it the good things. Like when he wanted attention, he would stare right at my face, and thump his foot on the floor authoritatively until I started to scratch behind his ears, or rub his belly (the "LOVE Nazi," we said). Or how he didn't know a single trick when I got him, but would literally do anything for a snack or a pat on the head, and was crazy smart, so I touted to my friends that I could teach my dog any trick they wanted to see in three tries (Sully and I won a lot of bets this way). In a couple of hours he had sit, stay, en garde! (get up), let's dance! (stand on hind legs), bang bang! (play dead), roust! (take 3 steps back), come here, and half a dozen other commands with little effort. He had such a playful, joyous spirit that was meant for human interaction. And yet, if anyone ever threatened me, he would have ripped their throat out... the "Beware the Dog" signs in my windows were not just for show.
I know in my heart there is no such thing as god or heaven... (no disrespect to those of you that are religious)... so I know that I will never really get to see Sully again. But I want for him to live on in some way... I hope he can live on in my heart and my memory. Some day, he will truly be gone - when no one ever speaks of him again... but that will not happen in my lifetime...
Other times, I feel that I failed miserably, and should have done more. Then, the guilt eats away at me.
What is right? I really can't tell now. But I do know that Sully and I had a good run... a really, really good run, for only being 1¼ years with me. I consider myself insanely lucky to have found such a wonderful dog before he was disappeared off this planet. I just can't shake this feeling like I could have done more, that I could have saved him if I tried harder.
Somewhere, I read that grief is "anger turned inward" ... I think that is exactly what I feel now... hatred even, turned to myself, for not saving him.
When I do remember him consciously, I try to make it the good things. Like when he wanted attention, he would stare right at my face, and thump his foot on the floor authoritatively until I started to scratch behind his ears, or rub his belly (the "LOVE Nazi," we said). Or how he didn't know a single trick when I got him, but would literally do anything for a snack or a pat on the head, and was crazy smart, so I touted to my friends that I could teach my dog any trick they wanted to see in three tries (Sully and I won a lot of bets this way). In a couple of hours he had sit, stay, en garde! (get up), let's dance! (stand on hind legs), bang bang! (play dead), roust! (take 3 steps back), come here, and half a dozen other commands with little effort. He had such a playful, joyous spirit that was meant for human interaction. And yet, if anyone ever threatened me, he would have ripped their throat out... the "Beware the Dog" signs in my windows were not just for show.
I know in my heart there is no such thing as god or heaven... (no disrespect to those of you that are religious)... so I know that I will never really get to see Sully again. But I want for him to live on in some way... I hope he can live on in my heart and my memory. Some day, he will truly be gone - when no one ever speaks of him again... but that will not happen in my lifetime...
QUOTE (leejaye @ Jul 1 2011, 04:02 AM) 
The devil is definitely in the details - it's all those little things, little habits, you wove into your life together without even knowing you were doing it, for me i missed them like nothing else, each little first and realisation that you won't do that together again, crazy stupid pain...when i lost my girl i told the vet that there were people i would gladly have swapped for her, she laughed, but i meant it, and there are definitely people i would grieve over less...in the days and weeks after i lost her i never thought i would feel better, and i'm still grieving for her, but a week ago i adopted a new boy (which i didn't think i would do for months) and he is really helping, take care
Thank you for this... one of the things I am struggling over is when to adopt another dog. I don't want to disgrace Sully's memory, but I really cannot cope alone. I cannot cope at all, really... Is there such a thing as a standard mourning period for your most beloved creature? Isn't that kind of gross? Should I just give up?
I would easily have swapped half the individuals in my own family for Sully. I don't believe that any dog could ever be half as good as he. Yet I do believe that Sully would want me to go out and find another death row dog like him, an "unadoptable" like he was that needed a home, so I guess I should try?
I just have lived my life for over a week without him and still can't picture life without him. And it's all my fault.
Leejaye, your vet should not have laughed at you. Your pet will share more of your life with you than any human could, should, or would. No human being will ever have what it takes to stand by your side, without judgment through thick and thin like your fuzzy does. Any vet who does not understand that a connection to your pet can be stronger than any connection you ever make with another person is only fulfilling half of their practice.
I have really struggled with whether I'm doing the right thing getting Purszi, but even though he's only been here a week and i will mourn my girl forever, he's really helping (my own guilt issues aside, and i do have to put them aside) - maybe i was selfish getting him, but i need that type of love in my life, like we have both said, you just don't get that anywhere else...i still don't believe it's your fault, the way you talk about him you would never have done anything to hurt him, and as impossible as it seems to go on when a whole piece of you has been amputated, just isn't there, Sully has given you the strength to do exactly that, only you know when you are ready for a new friend/love, but there is def no acceptable grieving period, you'll know, and who cares what anyone else thinks, if it feels right to you go for it, take care
Oh Fel
How much suffering you must be going through now! I respect your disbelief in puts living on and about we'll see them again, etc. etc. I say that a lot, but I know it's something people have constructed so they can have something to cling to during the period of H-E-**. Yours was a velcro dog - loved you and you only - and showed it every minute of every day. Isn't it amazing how she came into your life exactly when you needed it most? Fel, even people who have far more to spend on vet bills eventually can't save their beloved pet's life. And it just plain hurst - almost kills - you. At the moment you feel like someone has taken a rifle and shot out your heart and you're bleeding to death. Then, if you have to , you robot-walk through the life that other people except you to live - just as thought nothing has happened. NICE! But those people have nenver know the true, infinite love of a special animal. I know she ws yours because you could teach her tricks on only three tries. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) and I only ever managed to get one trick down: "Who want to lay on the floor?" Not going to maek Cirque de Soleil with that one!
The love that your baby showed you, her getting you through the roughest times in your life, your carrying on that love for the rest of your life .... these are the tremendous gifts your baby gave you. And, darn if she didn't think you were strong enough to give the hardest gift of love ther is in this world - accepting, eyes open, and taking on the infinite pain we know is coming by giving them the infinite gift of love by releasing them from their pain. Whether it's fleas - which in urban areas are d-a-m-n near impossible to eradicate short of burning your house down, or cancer, or kidney failure or, like Gretta, massive neurological collapse, there ends up being nothing - nothing - the we can do to save their lives at that fateful point. We gotta go through with it. And the fact that we HAVE shown the strength and love in the most terrible trial there is, we've reached deep inside and found mountains of strngth and love we had absolutely NO idea we had - but THEY did - and they came to show us that, yes, we did.
Your baby lives on not only in your memories of her but in the strength and love that has been uncovered in your heart. It's a huge challenge what to do with it ... but it's like being able to read - once you've learned how, you can't just "not know", not recognize letters and words and sentences.
Fell, thank you for sharing your beautiful, heart-breaking story with us - and the wonderful pictures of your baby. Even though it doesn't feel like it now, someday you will look at yourself in the mirror and say, I cared, I acted on it, I did the best I could to give and received great love. And no one can take that personal character from you - ever.
Please keep us posted on your grief journey. I went to a pet loss support group through our local University vet school - so-so. Then I found this site and it's been a life line for me. Individually, we're just straws in the wind, but together, we're a bundle of branches that not even the worst of storms can break.
Please let me and Gretta and her younger brother-in-spirit, Rufus, a 102# black lab / newfie mix lend youu our strength today - we're passed the worst of it and have a little to spare for you.
Hang on, friend,
Gretta's (and now Rufus's) mom
How much suffering you must be going through now! I respect your disbelief in puts living on and about we'll see them again, etc. etc. I say that a lot, but I know it's something people have constructed so they can have something to cling to during the period of H-E-**. Yours was a velcro dog - loved you and you only - and showed it every minute of every day. Isn't it amazing how she came into your life exactly when you needed it most? Fel, even people who have far more to spend on vet bills eventually can't save their beloved pet's life. And it just plain hurst - almost kills - you. At the moment you feel like someone has taken a rifle and shot out your heart and you're bleeding to death. Then, if you have to , you robot-walk through the life that other people except you to live - just as thought nothing has happened. NICE! But those people have nenver know the true, infinite love of a special animal. I know she ws yours because you could teach her tricks on only three tries. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) and I only ever managed to get one trick down: "Who want to lay on the floor?" Not going to maek Cirque de Soleil with that one!
The love that your baby showed you, her getting you through the roughest times in your life, your carrying on that love for the rest of your life .... these are the tremendous gifts your baby gave you. And, darn if she didn't think you were strong enough to give the hardest gift of love ther is in this world - accepting, eyes open, and taking on the infinite pain we know is coming by giving them the infinite gift of love by releasing them from their pain. Whether it's fleas - which in urban areas are d-a-m-n near impossible to eradicate short of burning your house down, or cancer, or kidney failure or, like Gretta, massive neurological collapse, there ends up being nothing - nothing - the we can do to save their lives at that fateful point. We gotta go through with it. And the fact that we HAVE shown the strength and love in the most terrible trial there is, we've reached deep inside and found mountains of strngth and love we had absolutely NO idea we had - but THEY did - and they came to show us that, yes, we did.
Your baby lives on not only in your memories of her but in the strength and love that has been uncovered in your heart. It's a huge challenge what to do with it ... but it's like being able to read - once you've learned how, you can't just "not know", not recognize letters and words and sentences.
Fell, thank you for sharing your beautiful, heart-breaking story with us - and the wonderful pictures of your baby. Even though it doesn't feel like it now, someday you will look at yourself in the mirror and say, I cared, I acted on it, I did the best I could to give and received great love. And no one can take that personal character from you - ever.
Please keep us posted on your grief journey. I went to a pet loss support group through our local University vet school - so-so. Then I found this site and it's been a life line for me. Individually, we're just straws in the wind, but together, we're a bundle of branches that not even the worst of storms can break.
Please let me and Gretta and her younger brother-in-spirit, Rufus, a 102# black lab / newfie mix lend youu our strength today - we're passed the worst of it and have a little to spare for you.
Hang on, friend,
Gretta's (and now Rufus's) mom
Hi Fel,
I know exactly what you mean about those little details, those mundane moments. It was so easy to take them for granted, though when I began to realize that I might soon lose him, I started savoring them more and paying closer attention. For me the hardest moments in particular are going to bed, when I've caught myself calling Dzambala, and waking up when I look toward the foot of my bed, half expecting that it was all a terrible nightmare and he is still there. Above all, opening the door to the apartment and not seeing him there, and knowing he isn't waiting under the chair for me. That one happens numerous times daily because I smoke but live in a non-smoking apartment so every time I come in from smoking outside I am reminded.
I am lucky that I have Loki. Whereas Dzambala was a couple seconds quicker in getting up on my lap, so he had almost exclusive claim to that territory, Loki is showing up there a lot more. It's kind of like he was waiting his turn. There is no doubt that I showed favoritism to Dzambala. We had picked each other ourselves, whereas I took Loki in when my ex moved into a small space and her other cat was not getting along with him, because as a kitten he and Dzamba had bonded. I always made an extra effort to give Loki more attention. He used to do a lot of annoying things like the child crying out for attention of any kind. Since Dzamba passed, he has done virtually none of that.
I may get another cat at some time, especially if I feel that Loki would do better with a companion when I am out of the house, but I am giving it some time. It is a lot quieter here, as Dzambala was a very talkative cat whereas Loki is a man of few words. I don't miss him any less, but because I have Loki I am not as lonely.
Just pay attention to how you are feeling. There is nothing wrong with wanting to get another dog to fill the loneliness. If you feel you can be fair to the new animal and grow to love them just as much for who they are, then there is no problem. Just take it step by step and you'll know when the time is right.
I know exactly what you mean about those little details, those mundane moments. It was so easy to take them for granted, though when I began to realize that I might soon lose him, I started savoring them more and paying closer attention. For me the hardest moments in particular are going to bed, when I've caught myself calling Dzambala, and waking up when I look toward the foot of my bed, half expecting that it was all a terrible nightmare and he is still there. Above all, opening the door to the apartment and not seeing him there, and knowing he isn't waiting under the chair for me. That one happens numerous times daily because I smoke but live in a non-smoking apartment so every time I come in from smoking outside I am reminded.
I am lucky that I have Loki. Whereas Dzambala was a couple seconds quicker in getting up on my lap, so he had almost exclusive claim to that territory, Loki is showing up there a lot more. It's kind of like he was waiting his turn. There is no doubt that I showed favoritism to Dzambala. We had picked each other ourselves, whereas I took Loki in when my ex moved into a small space and her other cat was not getting along with him, because as a kitten he and Dzamba had bonded. I always made an extra effort to give Loki more attention. He used to do a lot of annoying things like the child crying out for attention of any kind. Since Dzamba passed, he has done virtually none of that.
I may get another cat at some time, especially if I feel that Loki would do better with a companion when I am out of the house, but I am giving it some time. It is a lot quieter here, as Dzambala was a very talkative cat whereas Loki is a man of few words. I don't miss him any less, but because I have Loki I am not as lonely.
Just pay attention to how you are feeling. There is nothing wrong with wanting to get another dog to fill the loneliness. If you feel you can be fair to the new animal and grow to love them just as much for who they are, then there is no problem. Just take it step by step and you'll know when the time is right.
Hi, Fel, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Sullivan. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we have been blessed with the privilege of their company.
I have been reading through your topic and can truly empathize with your deepest feelings of grief. For whatever it may be worth to you, n my advanced years I have come to realize that grieving is a normal response to loss. And our feelings of loss need to be acknowledged and validated. When they are dismissed as being "insignificant" it is rejection and only adds additional pain to our already existing grief. Anyone who is incapable of extending compassion to someone who is grieving a loss - - regardless of what the loss is - - is not worthy of our acknowledgement or association. So, Fel, please give yourself the freedom to grieve your loss of Sullivan's physical presence with you.
This grief journey is not one of "getting over" our loss of our beloved companions. It is a journey of "adjustment" without their physical presence with us. And this adjustment is both emotionally and physically painful, particularly during the deep grief. This is why it is so important for us to find healthy ways of coping with this adjustment. When I literally ached to hold my precious furkids in the deepest moments of grief, I held a blanket or their collar close to me. I slept with their collars or one of their blankets. I still have Oslo's bed in the van, and I have Abbybayle's collar on the table next to my bed. Several years ago I got a life-size Black Lab stuffed toy, and it is now wearing Oslo's seatbelt harness and his collars and is standing in the corner where I can see it wherever I may be here in the basement living quarters. Fel, it is important for you to find ways that will bring comfort to you - - to help you through this most challenging time in your life - - one of the most painful experiences you will ever know on this side of eternity.
For different reasons I also understand how important having Sullivan share your life is to you. I cope with Survivor's Guilt and PTSD, and know the true gift of the unconditional love that comes only with my beloved companions. So I truly do understand the gift of love you share with your precious Sullivan. This gift of love is eternal, Fel. It is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Your beloved Sullivan understands your need to have a focus in your life that is just for you. So, please do not feel guilty about adopting another fur companion. In fact, Sullivan is probably guiding you and another furchild together right now, and when you meet by whatever means that will be - - you will know it is the right time.
Fel, I know right now there are no adequate words in any language that can truly comfort your shattered heart. But I truly do hope and pray that you will find comfort and encouragement and hope in the heartfelt responses that are shared with you here. You are among friends here, Fel. There are no strangers here. We may never meet face to face on this side of eternity, but we are brought together through the most blessed of friendships we will truly know - - our beloved companions.
Fel, thank you so very much for the privilege of sharing your beloved Sullivan with you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
I have been reading through your topic and can truly empathize with your deepest feelings of grief. For whatever it may be worth to you, n my advanced years I have come to realize that grieving is a normal response to loss. And our feelings of loss need to be acknowledged and validated. When they are dismissed as being "insignificant" it is rejection and only adds additional pain to our already existing grief. Anyone who is incapable of extending compassion to someone who is grieving a loss - - regardless of what the loss is - - is not worthy of our acknowledgement or association. So, Fel, please give yourself the freedom to grieve your loss of Sullivan's physical presence with you.
This grief journey is not one of "getting over" our loss of our beloved companions. It is a journey of "adjustment" without their physical presence with us. And this adjustment is both emotionally and physically painful, particularly during the deep grief. This is why it is so important for us to find healthy ways of coping with this adjustment. When I literally ached to hold my precious furkids in the deepest moments of grief, I held a blanket or their collar close to me. I slept with their collars or one of their blankets. I still have Oslo's bed in the van, and I have Abbybayle's collar on the table next to my bed. Several years ago I got a life-size Black Lab stuffed toy, and it is now wearing Oslo's seatbelt harness and his collars and is standing in the corner where I can see it wherever I may be here in the basement living quarters. Fel, it is important for you to find ways that will bring comfort to you - - to help you through this most challenging time in your life - - one of the most painful experiences you will ever know on this side of eternity.
For different reasons I also understand how important having Sullivan share your life is to you. I cope with Survivor's Guilt and PTSD, and know the true gift of the unconditional love that comes only with my beloved companions. So I truly do understand the gift of love you share with your precious Sullivan. This gift of love is eternal, Fel. It is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Your beloved Sullivan understands your need to have a focus in your life that is just for you. So, please do not feel guilty about adopting another fur companion. In fact, Sullivan is probably guiding you and another furchild together right now, and when you meet by whatever means that will be - - you will know it is the right time.
Fel, I know right now there are no adequate words in any language that can truly comfort your shattered heart. But I truly do hope and pray that you will find comfort and encouragement and hope in the heartfelt responses that are shared with you here. You are among friends here, Fel. There are no strangers here. We may never meet face to face on this side of eternity, but we are brought together through the most blessed of friendships we will truly know - - our beloved companions.
Fel, thank you so very much for the privilege of sharing your beloved Sullivan with you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and I look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Hi Fel-
I read your message last week some time. I visit this site occasionally but cannot stay here for long because it brings back so much pain for me and I feel every ounce of grief that everyone is going through. Your post threw me yet into another tailspin, but even moreso the message that Gretta's Mom sent back to you, which was utterly amazing. I lost my dog, my soulmate, the love of my life 1 year ago. I was in a very very similar position, at least as far as your feelings and the way life seemed to be falling apart all at once. My life was in absolute disarray and when I thought nothing else could go wrong, it got worse. My dog that I had for 15 yrs, that I got when I was just a kid (20 yrs old), well....(sigh) his time had come and his spleen ruptured. I was not prepared in the least. It was the most miserable, exhausting, cruel thing that could and has ever happened to me in my life. I loved that dog more than I loved myself and I would have done anything for him. A year later, it still hurts so much that I can only deal with it in increments. I can say that the love never dissipates. I love that dog today just as much as I ever did, if not more. And I too had all the guilt of wishing I got his spleen removed, gave him the blood transfusion and everything else. But the simple fact is, I truly believe that we all have our time. Of course we dont want our dogs to go. Its the hardest thing in the world to deal with. While raising him, I too was young and in college and moving from apartment to apartment and sometimes feeling so bad, like he would be happier with a family who had a nice house. But in reality Fel, your dog loves YOU and wanted to be wherever you were. It didnt matter if you were on the ground with no furniture or sleeping on the dirt outside. Love is Love and he would have been anywhere with you. That is something I have come to realize. Dont beat yourself up over that. You did your absolute best and your Sully loves you unconditionally.
This journey is so hard. Its been a year and I still have total breakdowns. In fact, just reading your post sent me into a state where I needed to shed another layer of tears and call my Dad and just cry to him. Its cruel and there were times when I said a BIG F-U to God or whoever is up there delivering this pain. How could he/she/it take something so precious from me?-often times the ONLY entity that brought me true satisfaction, joy and real love that I had never experienced before. It is intense and I fully understand the void that you speak of. I have been trying to fill that void for a year now, and it is taking a lot of time and effort to get back on my feet again. My life collapsed after that and I pretty much sold most of what I owned and moved to Hawaii...dazed, lost and confused. But, I can assure you this: our dogs are out there somewhere. Since he transitioned, I have had more signs, more messages and more little miracles that are well beyond a coincidence. I know it is my dog speaking to me. It is not the same as having him here, but I know he is still around me in some way. I too felt suicidal for months. I literally had no reason to go on. Sometimes I still feel like that. But I know that my dog would never want me to give up. And I know...that somewhere when all of this is over, those cute little guys are going to be waiting for us to say, 'hey good job!!!...you made it through that sh_t!' Life is tough, its loaded with lessons, challenges and things that are going to throw us for a loop. But I can say that in a year of time, I have found some sort of strength to carry on and pursue my goals and try to do the best that I can do, until it is my time. In the beginning, where you are at, its just about putting one foot in front of the other and trying to inch your way through each day. Hopefully you have someone to talk to, that you can call on a continuous basis to process this, or several people. Its not a light matter. Its heavy, deep and truly significant, despite what any shallow people may say. I actually found a medium who could channel my dog (as crazy as that sounds), but it has truly helped and I have started to do some occasional therapy sessions with her, just to help me work through it, and find myself again. I would be happy to give you her contact info if you like. She is amazing!!!!
Just by your writing I can tell that you are obviously a very bright girl with a LOT to contribute to life. I know its so hard to see at this point in time, while feeling the pain that you feel, and feeling so alone with it. My dog died in my arms as well and I have post traumatic stress about it whenever I get triggered by something or the thoughts go reeling through my mind. I have just tried to throw myself into other people, places and things and I deal with the pain when it is ready to explode in me. At times, I get moments of clarity where I feel totally connected and I can see and comprehend the bigger picture of life and perhaps why I am here. To me, I sometimes see it as this big adventure and when I realize/picture my dog sitting over there on the other side just waiting for me, I can go on knowing that I have a job/mission to complete and once Im done with that we will be reunited. Of course, there is no proof, no guarantee...but hey that is where faith comes in. Like Lenny Kravitz says, 'if you want it you got to BELIEVE', and Journey says, 'Dont Stop Believin!'. I do a lot with Law of Attraction and the idea that your thoughts create things. I have chosen to believe and therefore it gives me strength to carry on. Beyond all that, I ask for messages and I receive things, like I said that are well beyond a coincidence, to the point where my friends have started to notice them. They are so clear that it spooks me out sometimes and then I have to remind myself that I did in fact ASK for the messages.
My Dad told me the other night when I again came to a place of wanting to throw my hands up in the air and give up, not understanding why I am living this life. He said, 'look there is more to see and do out there...just keep moving forward'. Its very true-just one step at a time. I know my dog came into my life to teach me how to love, how to live, how to be treated and really....he taught me how to be me, and how to fly. He really is the wind beneath my wings. I will end this note by saying, you will make it Fel. Your dog will give you the strength to keep going. Here is a song I really like that they play in Hawaii that talks about a special 'someone' who teaches you how to fly, and a pearl jam song that talks about the other side that is so amazing that it is difficult to listen to but it is still great. I heard this song when I came back from the vet hospital and I knew it was my dog speaking to me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk5opaZxxFs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0mhrqfeFjQ
I send Strength, Love and Blessings to you.....
Amy
I read your message last week some time. I visit this site occasionally but cannot stay here for long because it brings back so much pain for me and I feel every ounce of grief that everyone is going through. Your post threw me yet into another tailspin, but even moreso the message that Gretta's Mom sent back to you, which was utterly amazing. I lost my dog, my soulmate, the love of my life 1 year ago. I was in a very very similar position, at least as far as your feelings and the way life seemed to be falling apart all at once. My life was in absolute disarray and when I thought nothing else could go wrong, it got worse. My dog that I had for 15 yrs, that I got when I was just a kid (20 yrs old), well....(sigh) his time had come and his spleen ruptured. I was not prepared in the least. It was the most miserable, exhausting, cruel thing that could and has ever happened to me in my life. I loved that dog more than I loved myself and I would have done anything for him. A year later, it still hurts so much that I can only deal with it in increments. I can say that the love never dissipates. I love that dog today just as much as I ever did, if not more. And I too had all the guilt of wishing I got his spleen removed, gave him the blood transfusion and everything else. But the simple fact is, I truly believe that we all have our time. Of course we dont want our dogs to go. Its the hardest thing in the world to deal with. While raising him, I too was young and in college and moving from apartment to apartment and sometimes feeling so bad, like he would be happier with a family who had a nice house. But in reality Fel, your dog loves YOU and wanted to be wherever you were. It didnt matter if you were on the ground with no furniture or sleeping on the dirt outside. Love is Love and he would have been anywhere with you. That is something I have come to realize. Dont beat yourself up over that. You did your absolute best and your Sully loves you unconditionally.
This journey is so hard. Its been a year and I still have total breakdowns. In fact, just reading your post sent me into a state where I needed to shed another layer of tears and call my Dad and just cry to him. Its cruel and there were times when I said a BIG F-U to God or whoever is up there delivering this pain. How could he/she/it take something so precious from me?-often times the ONLY entity that brought me true satisfaction, joy and real love that I had never experienced before. It is intense and I fully understand the void that you speak of. I have been trying to fill that void for a year now, and it is taking a lot of time and effort to get back on my feet again. My life collapsed after that and I pretty much sold most of what I owned and moved to Hawaii...dazed, lost and confused. But, I can assure you this: our dogs are out there somewhere. Since he transitioned, I have had more signs, more messages and more little miracles that are well beyond a coincidence. I know it is my dog speaking to me. It is not the same as having him here, but I know he is still around me in some way. I too felt suicidal for months. I literally had no reason to go on. Sometimes I still feel like that. But I know that my dog would never want me to give up. And I know...that somewhere when all of this is over, those cute little guys are going to be waiting for us to say, 'hey good job!!!...you made it through that sh_t!' Life is tough, its loaded with lessons, challenges and things that are going to throw us for a loop. But I can say that in a year of time, I have found some sort of strength to carry on and pursue my goals and try to do the best that I can do, until it is my time. In the beginning, where you are at, its just about putting one foot in front of the other and trying to inch your way through each day. Hopefully you have someone to talk to, that you can call on a continuous basis to process this, or several people. Its not a light matter. Its heavy, deep and truly significant, despite what any shallow people may say. I actually found a medium who could channel my dog (as crazy as that sounds), but it has truly helped and I have started to do some occasional therapy sessions with her, just to help me work through it, and find myself again. I would be happy to give you her contact info if you like. She is amazing!!!!
Just by your writing I can tell that you are obviously a very bright girl with a LOT to contribute to life. I know its so hard to see at this point in time, while feeling the pain that you feel, and feeling so alone with it. My dog died in my arms as well and I have post traumatic stress about it whenever I get triggered by something or the thoughts go reeling through my mind. I have just tried to throw myself into other people, places and things and I deal with the pain when it is ready to explode in me. At times, I get moments of clarity where I feel totally connected and I can see and comprehend the bigger picture of life and perhaps why I am here. To me, I sometimes see it as this big adventure and when I realize/picture my dog sitting over there on the other side just waiting for me, I can go on knowing that I have a job/mission to complete and once Im done with that we will be reunited. Of course, there is no proof, no guarantee...but hey that is where faith comes in. Like Lenny Kravitz says, 'if you want it you got to BELIEVE', and Journey says, 'Dont Stop Believin!'. I do a lot with Law of Attraction and the idea that your thoughts create things. I have chosen to believe and therefore it gives me strength to carry on. Beyond all that, I ask for messages and I receive things, like I said that are well beyond a coincidence, to the point where my friends have started to notice them. They are so clear that it spooks me out sometimes and then I have to remind myself that I did in fact ASK for the messages.
My Dad told me the other night when I again came to a place of wanting to throw my hands up in the air and give up, not understanding why I am living this life. He said, 'look there is more to see and do out there...just keep moving forward'. Its very true-just one step at a time. I know my dog came into my life to teach me how to love, how to live, how to be treated and really....he taught me how to be me, and how to fly. He really is the wind beneath my wings. I will end this note by saying, you will make it Fel. Your dog will give you the strength to keep going. Here is a song I really like that they play in Hawaii that talks about a special 'someone' who teaches you how to fly, and a pearl jam song that talks about the other side that is so amazing that it is difficult to listen to but it is still great. I heard this song when I came back from the vet hospital and I knew it was my dog speaking to me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mk5opaZxxFs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0mhrqfeFjQ
I send Strength, Love and Blessings to you.....
Amy
Dear Fel,
Please don't be so hard on yourself. Sully knew you gave him everything you had to give, and are still giving him. Your heart! That's more than most dogs get from their humans. Yes, people love their pets but not in the same ways I encounter every time I visit this site.
When I came home from work on Kayla's last day and knew it was time to let her go I had $23 to my name. I had to call my mom and beg her for money to take Kay to the vet. Here I was, turning 40 that day, with a husband and a child and I was too broke to give my baby the release she needed. Luckily mom came through but still...after 15.5 years together she deserved so much more from me or so I thought. What she really needed and deserved was to have her human with her as she left this world and I gave her that, just as you gave that to Sully. Our babies don't care about living in the nicest houses or what our bank balance is. They just care about us.
Hope you can take some time today to be good to yourself. You deserve it!
Shelby
Please don't be so hard on yourself. Sully knew you gave him everything you had to give, and are still giving him. Your heart! That's more than most dogs get from their humans. Yes, people love their pets but not in the same ways I encounter every time I visit this site.
When I came home from work on Kayla's last day and knew it was time to let her go I had $23 to my name. I had to call my mom and beg her for money to take Kay to the vet. Here I was, turning 40 that day, with a husband and a child and I was too broke to give my baby the release she needed. Luckily mom came through but still...after 15.5 years together she deserved so much more from me or so I thought. What she really needed and deserved was to have her human with her as she left this world and I gave her that, just as you gave that to Sully. Our babies don't care about living in the nicest houses or what our bank balance is. They just care about us.
Hope you can take some time today to be good to yourself. You deserve it!
Shelby
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