Still having trouble adjusting to the new normal. I know it takes time, but gracious this hurts so much!

We're still learning Sasha and her ways, each day it seems she reveals a little more of herself to us. Up until last night she showed absolutely no interest in toys or playing, or even just plain old chewing.

We think it might have been restlessness because we could only get her on one walk yesterday, but last night she started chewing on the couch. I immediately grabbed Ginger's rope toy and put it over the part Sasha was chewing on so she would chew on it instead. She seemed to instantly "get it" and grabbed the rope with both front paws and just went to town chewing. Seeing her chew Ginger's rope made me cry again and I wanted to yank it back away from her but I didn't.

Is it wrong of me to not want Sasha to use Ginger's things? I shouldn't be attaching so much emotion to inanimate objects, I mean they're just things right? It would be silly, impractical and a waste of money to buy new things when there is nothing wrong with what we already have. I don't know why I'm having such an intense emotional response over this, but there it is. And this was just the rope toy, I can't imagine how I'd react if she showed any interest in the other ones.

Also, the more Sasha reveals herself to us, the more glaring it is how different she is from Ginger but instead of embracing those differences, I'm finding myself resenting them once again and it just makes me upset all over again that I'm having to go through this while I'm still grieving Ginger so badly. In many ways I'm glad Sasha is here but it only takes one minor thing to happen and then I feel I don't want to have anything to do with her, period. Because she's not Ginger.

Now I feel like a whining child complaining about petty things but I can't seem to help feeling this way. I hate this roller coaster ride of grief. And to think we'll have to go through it with each of our four cats in the future, as well as Sasha. I don't think I can stand it. I understand now why some people never get another pet again after having one die, it's just too painful and I don't know if the joy of our brief years together outweighs the pain of them dying. I can recognize right now that this is my pain talking, I'm still too close to it as it hasn't even been a month yet since Ginger died. I can look back at my Panther now without tears and the ache, but it took me 4 years to do it. Will it take that long for each pet, too? I'm desperately trying to remember that it's all a cycle, everything dies and is reborn again, no one lives forever. I just wish the acute pain would ease and that the tears weren't so close to the surface all the time.

I don't know if having a new dog in the house has helped or made things worse. Having no "dog noises" in the house at all....would that be an even more painful, glaring reminder that Ginger is gone? Or does having dog clicky-toes across the floor, sneezes and sighs and ear flaps....the usual "dog noises" help, even though they're not coming from Ginger? I just don't know. For a few days I was trying to console myself by thinking that Ginger was here in spirit, whispering things in Sasha's ear on what to do and not do, like she was teaching Sasha. That daydream can only take me so far though before I dissolve into sobs again.

Just needed to vent to those who understand. Thank you for listening and being here.

Hi, Betsy, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. Please let me reassure you that what you are feeling is VERY NORMAL. There is "nothing wrong with you."

The "things" we give to our beloved companions during their earthly journey are no longer "things" but a part of them. They hold the memories that we have of our beloved companions who used them, enjoyed them. So, it is perfectly understandable that you are having difficulty "sharing" your beloved Ginger's toys with Sasha. Therefore, it is perfectly okay to put Ginger's toys out of reach - - wrap them in a plastic bag for storage in a "memory box" - - and get Sasha her own toys. This is not a waste of money - - it is part of the "starting over" with a new companion.

"In many ways I'm glad Sasha is here but it only takes one minor thing to happen and then I feel I don't want to have anything to do with her, period. Because she's not Ginger. I just wish the acute pain would ease and that the tears weren't so close to the surface all the time."

Betsy, there is no easy way to travel this grief adjustment journey. It can only be traveled one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time. You have barely had any time to adjust yourself to the physical absence of your beloved Ginger while becoming a "new mom" to a new furchild. Grieving the physical loss of a beloved companion is a shock, and your shock has been increased with having to embrace a new furchild into your heart and home before you were ready to do so. So, it is no surprise that you are having a hard time right now dealing with all the ups and downs and twists and turns of emotions you are feeling.

The only advice I can offer you about Sasha is: take it one day at a time -- enjoy the "good" moments you have with her because this is what your beloved Ginger wants you to do. Allowing yourself to bond with Sasha will in no way diminish the eternal love you share with your beloved Ginger, I promise. You will NEVER forget your beloved Ginger by allowing yourself to love Sasha. Sasha does not want to replace your beloved Ginger - - she just wants her own place in your heart and life. Sometimes this happens immediately with "love at first sight" - - and sometimes this happens softly - - one day at a time with the daily care of feeding, walking, exercising, - - until one day you and Sasha will look into each other's eyes and know the "connection" has been made. It will not be on the same level that you share with your beloved Ginger - - it isn't supposed to be. You and Sasha will form your own unique bond for the both of you. Different does not mean good or bad - - it simply means different - - and that's okay.

"Now I feel like a whining child complaining about petty things but I can't seem to help feeling this way."

Betsy, you are NOT a whining child. You are right when you say you can't help feeling the way you do. This is called GRIEVING, and you must allow yourself the opportunity to grieve the physical loss of your beloved Ginger. This is NORMAL, so please allow yourself to grieve the way YOU need to grieve for your beloved Ginger.

Thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing, Betsy. I hope you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Ginger's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how things are going with you whenever possible.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Dear Betsy,

Your experiences and feelings about Ginger and Sasha sould so much like mine when I lost by beautiful Grette (the kindest cholcolate who ever lived) last April. Gretta was the first dog I had as an adult. She was a 9-year-old stray who had been running the icy cold streets here in MN and was picked up, starving, by Aminal Control. On the day she was "scheduled", a wonderful woman from a rescue agency here went to Animal Control to pick up another animal and when she saw Gretta she just couldn't leave her behind. I moved to my present apartment especially so I could have a dog. One of my new neighbors saw how much I loved her rescue dogs and asked me to help out at an adoption event. Well, you can imagine what happened. I saw Gretta, she saw me, she chose me, walked slowly up to me, laid her head in my lap, nd lifted her paw as if to say, "Please take me home." I did - and the next three and a half years were the most wonderful years of my life. We were (still are) soul mates - velcroed together at the hip. She developed some neurological problems that eventually took her life suddenly one weekend.

I'll never forget going home after that. Everything said "Gretta". How could I cope? I rolled up into the proverbial ball and just cried - for hours. Talking ot her, telling her how much I loved her and always will. Telling her that she was now in a Perfect World. Asking her to guide me and watch over me and, most important, keep living me as I would keep loving her forever. (Yup, I'm crying now.) The first thing I did was velcro two of her snowsuits (which she hated but had to wear in the frigid winters) to make a kind of pillow to hold. I had a beautiful, soft pillow made for her cremains. I hated coming home, because there was no nose to greet me. No "dude" waggin her tail and just so glad to see me - ME!

I didn't put anything of her's away - her dog bed, her blankets, her dog bowls, her toys (she wasn't much for toys being old and in pain a lot). I promised her that no one else would ever drink out of her bowls. Or sleep on her dog bed, or weear her pink sweater. Or walk with her purple leash. (I've been able to keep all of those promises except the dog bed.)

Day after day I would come home form work with no one to welcome me and no place to go (that's when we went on our long walks). But i stilll had all that doggie-love in my heart and no one to shower it on, no one to hug, no one to pet or scratch ears. That was almost as sad as not being able to see her or hold her or hear her breath. The emptiness got to be too much.

I started, ever so tentatively, looking on local rescue sites - especially the one from which I'd adopted Gretta. Since I'm of "that age", I wanted an older dog. The first dog I looked at seemed perfect on paper - a mix of my two favorite breeds - chocolate lab and Chessie (a darling dog who lived next door to my father who had also just passed away). But when I went to meet her, she turned out to be very dog-aggressive (couldn't live in a foster home with an 11-year -old lab (!), went after the pet store owner's very well-behaved boxer). I felt I could never really be safe in my home with this dog, let alone guaranteeing the safety of others.

So I went back to the Second Chance site and too another look at a dog I'd seen there - a black lab (mix, it turned out) about 8 years old. One of her pictures showed him lying on the floor with THE most beautiful brown eyes. They looked out at me from the photo - just at me! I had dismissed him before as being too young, but now I wanted to take another look. Well, he turned out to be 102#, a lab-newfie mix, with two spinal stneoses - causing shaky legs - aand two bad ACLs. But a great heart (along with the fat butt!) Both the foster mother and I have driven about 60 miles to meet and I had been making somewhat of a plea not to let the dog be adopted before I could see him - so .... in spirte of misgivings about size, age, health, gender ..... I took her home that night.

it was NOT love at first sight. He was a HE, very different from a she. He was much bigger than Gretta, much younger and much livelier. At first he did not welcome me at the door and this broke my heart. Gretta was extemely food motivated. I had to take her to the E-vet twice because of things she'd eaten. We just didn't seem to be "in love" with each other. But I still was NOT just going to "clean house" of everything Gretta. My heart hurt too much to do that. In fact, while I was waiting those three weeks, I slept several night on her dog bed holding her snow suit pillow (it's a big, orthopedic bed, so I almost fit!).

Love didn't seem to be developing and I was was sad and worried. Peggy, a lovely woman who had lost her dog (also Peggie), and Moonbeam were SO helpful during that time. They pointed out to me that love did not always come in a rush. Sometimes it came in little tendrils, a couple growing every day over very small things - like a good friend who sticks with you during a loss or tragedy and one day you wwake up and realize that you love HIM. That's what happened with Rufus.

day by day we just carried on. His coat is SOOOOOOOO soft and his ears are SOOOO big and floppy! He's definitely not a cuddler, though. After about six weeks, my sister's dog Trevor, who suffered massive health problems of all kinds, needed to be set free. We have always been very close so I went to her town to be with her during and for a wekk after the trauma. Rufus's foster mom - who had had him for a year and a half - dog-sat for him.

While I was away, I thought myabe Rufus would be better off at the foster mom's. She loved him SO much, She had 40 acres for him to run around in and all I had was a 100 square foot apartment and 3 mile a day walks. She had another big dog for him to play with and I was a solo. Again, my Lighting Strike friends helped me think this through. Moonbeam especially and Tom's dad asked me some very hard questions - would I be happier not having to care for and walk a dog every day? How would I feel if I didn't see Rufus's face every time I opened the front door? These questions helped me make up my mind to keep on trying with Rufus. I couldn't find it in my heart to "give him away" one more time in his life. I wrote him a letter telling I loved him and was sorry for my ambivalence. That I was his forever mom, and he had a forever home, and we'd make it somehow.

And over the past three months, the tentril thing happened. Slowly, the walks and the brushes and the sneaking him tiny bites of food, and his beautiful eyes .... a million little things ... slowly, slowly, slowly created millions of tiny tendrils in my heart and I realized that I DID love him and COULDN'T and WOULDN'T give him up. We were no a part of each other.

It took a LONG time and happened almost impreceptibly.

So, no, you're not abnormal. Everything DOES remind you of Ginger - and hurts like aknife in the heart (I still cry whenever I post here). I have discovered that love is NOT a zero sum game. Loving one being more, does NOT mean loving another less. Love creates love. Love is forever. Love is infinite.

One month is only an instant in this grief journey. It's a rough and rocky road and you're new at it. I can assure you that, while the pain will probably never go away, there will be a new day and you will come to love your new baby - in a totally different way, but no less intensely. ANd your beloved Ginger IS still on her job, watching over you, guiding your steps, and most of all - loving her mom and being loved by you. That is the greatest gift one being can give another - absolute unconditional love. And I'm finding, to my surprise, that you can give all your love to more than one begin. When they say love is a miracle, this must be what they mean.

Keep on keeping on, Betsy. Eventually the shot-in-the-heart feeling dulls into the carrying-around-a-huge-concrete-block time. One thing I'm sure of, though, the tears will NEVER go away until we are reunited with ALL of our beloved soul-mates.

All of your LS family is with you - night or day - forever. It's a promise.

Go well today, Betsy.

Gretta's mom

Hi Gingerella

Just stopping by to see how you're doing and to give you a little bit of strength that I have to spare. Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) reports that Ginger is a perfect being in the Perfect World and that she joins in in the "my mom's the best" - and wins.

Blessings,

Gretta's mom

Thank you Moonbeam and Gretta's Mom for your kind words of support. It's getting a little better now with Sasha, I'm not as hypersensitive to her using Ginger's things as I was at first. I'm so relieved that she's showing interest in the toys at all because at first she didn't seem to have any knowledge of how to play and that worried me. We're learning her ways and she is learning ours, and the more at home she feels with us, the more she is letting more of her personality show. Last night she actually went to the toy basket and pulled out a tennis ball, which was a huge first. Instead of being sad because it reminded me so much of how Ginger would pull the toys out of the basket, I had a smile on my face because it was so good to see Sasha "getting it."

We're still in the bonding process; we've always done this thing with our pets where we do silly talk in the third person, as if the pet is talking to us and we'll hold entire conversations with each other doing this silly talk. I know it sounds goofy but it's just what we do. Anyway with Ginger and our cats, we always refer to each other as "Mommy and Daddy" because, well, we are their Mommy and Daddy. Oh and of course each pet has their distinctive voice (which my husband does better than me, he's great at doing impressions and impersonations). For some reason Sasha's voice is emerging sounding like Doug's from the movie "Up". My husband acknowledges that we're still in the bonding process because when he does silly talk for Sasha, he refers to us as "Tall One and Short One" instead of Daddy and Mommy, like that's how she thinks of us. We're not quite her Mommy and Daddy just yet, we're still Tall One and Short One. lol

There's still some undesirable behaviors she exhibits that we need to work on, but there's some things she has intuitively picked up on that we've never tried to show her, which is sometimes eerie. I like to think that Ginger is whispering instructions in her ear. Of course she's been whispering naughty things into her ear as well because she's been doing some of Ginger's naughty things.....or maybe all dogs like to eat hairballs the cats have thrown up?

This whole month has passed by in a blur and a daze; I still find myself waiting for Ginger to walk into the room and that will probably not go away soon. In order to get on with living I've had to kind of numb myself to it all, especially this past week being sick with a horrid cold. But it's slowly getting better. Having a doggie presence in the house, even though it's not Ginger, is still better than not having that presence at all. It's been easier to work on bonding with Sasha now that she's finally cone-free....what a horrible couple of weeks that was! She endured it with the patience of Job, though.....much better than Tall One and Short One did.