My heart-dog, Eva, a 6?-year-old German Shepherd, died on April 30, 2014, and I am devastated and miss her desperately. The days seem to stretch on ahead of me endlessly - such a long lifetime ahead to spend missing her.

We rescued Eva. I'll refrain from commenting on the rescue organization itself, apart from mentioning that she was an adult German Shepherd who weighed 53lb at intake and, 2 weeks into her stay at their kennel, was barely 42lb. As it turned out, she had exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, which we began treating immediately.

Within her first 24 hours at our home, she had snapped at my husband without warning. Within a couple of days, she had begun to exhibit aggression towards other dogs, which was a problem because we rented in a large dog-friendly community. But I knew from the start that I couldn't bring her back to the rescue she'd come from; she was days away from starving to death by the time we adopted her. Besides, she had already bonded very strongly to me. In the early days, because of her EPI, I was taking her out to poo 10-12 times throughout the night, every night. I slept on the couch next to her crate, I trained her, I played with her. We became close very quickly. Eva's teeth had been crudely and cruelly cut off and filed down, and she was at least 4 years old with swollen nipples that indicated recent pregnancy. She had not had a good life, and yet she learned to trust me.

We tried endless methods to work on her aggression, both towards my husband and towards other dogs. We worked with two behaviorists, read every book we could get our hands on, and tried a variety of remedial training methods: counter-conditioning, BAT, LAT, positive reinforcement only, and finally, positive reinforcement + prong collar corrections. Nothing worked. Then, we discovered that she was aggressive towards children. We were/are still renting, just in a different location, and children (not to mention other dogs) are not 100% avoidable, but still, I was determined. I decided to get up every morning at 4:30 to walk and exercise her, then run her out again right before work, have my husband walk her at 11AM and 2PM, and I walked her again at 7PM (always risky/scary/traumatic), and finally one more time at midnight. It was stressful and I was sleep-deprived (and I always dreaded the weekends, when children and other dogs were everywhere), but it was okay; at least I still had my Eva. She had bad anxiety and panic attacks, but we could not treat her with anti-anxiety medication because it would decrease her bite inhibition, making her more dangerous. Still, she loved me and I love her.

But then she was diagnosed with GI cancer. She had to go out constantly during the day, and nearly hourly at night (she would wake me up at 1AM, 2:30 AM, 3:30 AM, then we'd be out at 4:30 AM, then again at 6AM...this was a dog who had never woken me up for any reason other than pain/distress, and now she needed to walk for an hour plus in order to poop). And we were running into other dogs more, of course, which was stressful to her. Her reaction was aggressive but it was fueled by fear...

She lost her appetite; she would only eat when hand-fed the most enticing food (chicken breast ). If I threw the ball, her favorite toy, most of the time she would just watch it roll. She was never able to turn down a play session before. She even stopped following me everywhere, when before, she had been my shadow, wherever I went, even into the very scary shower. She was in pain. She did not want to leave my side; it was even more pronounced than ever before. If I went to the bathroom, she would wedge herself between the toilet and the wall to remain as close to me as possible. She would pace and pant all night, her stools were bloody....

It was the combination of working around her aggression AND her cancer that was impossible. It just wasn't possible. And I wouldn't have minded if she went to the bathroom indoors, but her history of abuse and neglect made it incredibly stressful for her to have an accident, even though on the two occasions that she had an accident, my husband and I didn't react at all.

It was making her miserable. Miserable inside, pacing and panting and trying to move around to ease her GI pain; miserable outside, unable to poop (I walked 6+ hours/day multiple times trying to help her ease one out), distressed greatly by other dogs and children, anxious, fearful, completely lacking an appetite, devoid of energy....

So my husband made the decision to have her euthanized. I demanded that we have the vet (the vet that I was most comfortable with) come to us, regardless of the cost. We made the appointment for 4/30, and I took a week off of work to spend every moment with Eva. We went on nice slow ambly walks in our favorite spots, I hand-fed her anything she would eat, we napped together, got up at 4AM to go to the park and wake up all the deer and bunnies, we stayed up all night so that we could have stress-free, dog-free, child-free walks. I let her chew and chew on her favorite toy - a tennis ball made out of a giant squeaker and produced by Kong. We took a ride to my hometown.

On the 30th, I got up at 4AM and we went for our normal 2-hour jaunt at the local park to wake up all the deer and bunnies and birds... that walk flew so fast; before I knew it, it was 6AM and I brought her home to rest... she slept until 9AM and I just watched her and stroked her and loved on her and fought my desire to wake her up -- I knew our time together was so short. At 9AM we went for a ride to our other favorite park, then to my hometown, then before I knew it, it was 12 and I realized I only had an hour to get home and give her her first ever McDonalds meal. I got her chicken nuggets and a burger and she wouldn't touch either of them, but luckily I also had a couple of lbs of chicken breast....

I was feeding her that chicken when the vet arrived. She ate at least a full pound of chicken breast

As I fed her, the vet injected the sedative into her flank. I tried so hard not to cry, and I managed not to sob, at least. I didn't want to scare her. The shot didn't seem to hurt her.. she turned around and sniffed the needle after the vet removed it. I told my husband to pull down her blanket from the couch so she could lay on it, and he did, and I sat on a corner of it and she came and laid down right in front of me. I stroked her head and her ears and her neck and talked to her... I told her how much I loved her, and how glad I was that she was in my life, and that she was a good girl. I couldn't say anything else - I would've started sobbing. I looked in her eyes the whole time they were open and she gazed into mine. Then the vet determined she was sufficiently sedated and had me move to lay behind Eva -- we always used to "spoon" on the floor and on the "Eva sofa." The vet shaved her foreleg and found a vein and injected that bright blue liquid... time slowed to a crawl and I felt like she was injecting it into both of us. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I know Eva "sighed" one last time and then the vet checked her and said, "I'm sorry; there is no heartbeat" and that's when I knew it was OK to start crying....

I just miss her so, so much, and I wonder how many more weeks or months she could have had... but I didn't want her to descend into the pits of misery; I wanted her to have a few good days, after so many years of misery with her previous "owner[s]".... she didn't deserve to suffer anymore, not even for one more minute. But then I ask myself the impossible question -- if she could have talked, would she have wanted the weeks or months of misery, because she would have wanted to be alive and with me?

I miss her all the time. She was my constant companion. I miss her sighs, her "old man groans," her silly parrot mouth and underbite, her one floppy ear, her goofy personality, the way she used to "flea-bite" me, "spooning" with her, wrestling with her, playing fetch, watching her track beavers and possoms, watching her gently herd our cat.... I miss coming home to her greetings, I miss calling her onto my lap during scary movies, I miss coming out of the shower to see her laying alongside the tub, I miss having to step over her because she slept right next to my side of the bed.... I miss giving her a new treat or toy and watching her nudge it around with her nose before tentatively biting, then nudging it around some more....

So much more to say, but I fear this post is already incredibly long.

I miss you, Eva girl, Eva-doo. I desperately hope I see you again somewhere, somehow. I love you forever - always have, always will

Hi, Eva's mom, please permit me to offer you my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved Eva. Losing a companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. Euthanasia is the last gift of love we can give to our companions at great sacrifice to ourselves so that they can be restored to their former youthfulness in the company of the angels.

Eva's mom, this grief journey is one of the most painful experiences you will know on this side of eternity. It is a journey that cannot be reconciled in a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a month, or even 6 months - - for you are now on a journey that is filled with all the first withouts and the memories that can be all too painful right now that include "this time yesterday, last week, last month, last year" to endure. It is a journey that can only be traveled one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time in your own way and in your own time - - with the reassurance you are not alone but rather surrounded by friends here who truly do understand what you are going through and who are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

This grief journey is filled with many different emotions, and one of them is guilt / remorse which comes from the looking back and trying to reconcile all the "whys" "if onlys" and "what ifs" that consume and torture our hearts when we are the most vulnerable emotionally. There is no doubt in what you share with us that you and your husband did everything in your power to give your beloved Eva a happy and healthy earthly journey. One of the most important aspects to our companion's earthly journey is being able to take care of their personal needs with dignity, and when this is no longer possible, their quality of life and desire for a QUANTITY of life begins to become severely compromised. How so very fortunate your beloved Eva is to have you and your husband for her Forever Mom and Dad, and how blessed you are to be her sole, and soul, heirs and living legacy to her eternal love. I hope in time you will be able to find peace in your heart that you did the absolute RIGHT THING in easing your beloved Eva from her frail, painful, failing physical body.

One of the most painful aspects to our grief adjustment journey is adjusting to our beloved companion's physical absence. This is not an easy adjustment to make by any stretch of the imagination. The good news in the midst of our deepest sorrow is that love is eternal - - it is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. I hope you will find comfort in knowing that your beloved Eva's sweet Living Spirit continues to share your earthly journey as she always has and always will, for she is always and forever a part of your heart and memories - - she is always and forever a heartbeat close to you.

I know very well from first hand experience that when our hearts are entrenched in deep grief there are no adequate words in any language that can soothe the searing pain of sorrow. Still I hope the words I share with you will offer you some measure of comfort, support, encouragement, and hope as you travel your grief adjustment journey.

Thank you so much for honoring us in sharing your beloved Eva with us. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Eva's mom, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Hi.

So very sorry for your loss. I can relate - unfortunately. I know how painful it is to lose one that you love so deeply. I've lost several dogs over the years. Every one of them hurt and still hurts. I cried reading your post. I cry over everything these days. We just lost George almost six months ago. So pain is still pretty fresh for me.

Your post is not too long. And this is a great place to write down your feelings. Once again I'm so sorry for your loss.

Lynette.

Eva's mum,
I am so sorry about the loss of your beautiful girl. How sad that Eva had to endure such suffering before she found you, and yet how amazing that she was able to find somebody like you to love her and look past the issues. Most people would overlook a dog like Eva, so thank you for taking her in. Your story hit close to home for me since I lost my german shephard on the 11th April. My boy loved bbq chicken too. It's the worst thing I think we as humans can go through and I'm still reeling from the shock. German shephards are truly amazing dogs and we've both been blessed to be able to share a snippet of our lives with them

Thank you all so much for all of the support - it is so appreciated, especially during this extremely difficult time.

It's the missing her that is the worst, the not being able to know for sure whether I'll ever see her again, in this life or the next, or the afterlife. I used to be a practicing Catholic, and I read a prayer over her beautiful, empty body shortly after she died, that in part asked God to send her with those who will come when it is my time to die. I sometimes daydream about it, about her appearing before me, silly parrot-mouth partially open, tail wagging, eyes bright, and me calling her name...

I just hope she knows how much she was, and is, loved. I wish I got forever with her. Such a simple sentence but there is so much wish behind it...

The day after she died, my husband, who is not at all a believer in any type of afterlife, said that after he had been laying in bed awake for a while, he heard her drinking water. She had a very distinctive drinking sound, since she had a parrot mouth and an underbite, she had to kind of bite at the water.

The second day after her death (a Friday - 4/30/14 was a Wednesday), I was talking to him and saying how jealous I was of him, that he got to hear her. After he left to run an errand and I was alone in the very empty apartment, I swear I heard her sigh.

That night, which was the third night after her death, I had a dream.... I dreamed I was walking with her, and we came up to a privacy fence, as we sometimes would, and there was a little gap at the bottom. In life, she always used to try to look under people's fences and I'd always call her a creep. Well, she started to look under this fence, and at first I couldn't see below it, but then the bottom of the fence raised up a bit, and I could see grass, and she was standing upright now, looking; then it lifted a bit more and we could see grassy hills and sheep. Then the fence disappeared entirely and she crossed what used to be the fence-line and was trotting around with the sheep...

We always used to say that we wished we lived on a farm, so she could live happily without fear of running into other dogs. I always thought she'd be a great herder, since she was so good at herding our cat off of the counters and getting her down when she climbed up the window screens.

I hope that dream was a sign -- I hope it means that she crossed over, and all that is between us is a fence that I can't climb over or dig under or see through, and on the other side of the fence she is herding and guarding her sheep, and when it's my turn to cross over I can join her.

Hi, Eva's mom, thank you so much for sharing with us how you and your husband are doing. Please let me try to reassure you that your beloved Eva is heaven's perfect garden patiently awaiting your appropriate time to join her in eternal joy. And please let me try to reassure you and your husband that the sounds you hear of your beloved Eva drinking water, walking on the floor, sighing, etc., are REAL - - they are not your imagination. Because we live in a physically oriented world the adjustment to her physical absence is a painful one both emotionally and physically. But your beloved Eva's sweet Living Spirit is still with you continuing to share your earthly journey as she always has and always will - - just differently.

I hope today is treating you kindly, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Eva's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Eva's mom, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you, moon beam, for your kind words...

I feel like my grieving process has been disrupted, almost; we unexpectedly lost a human family member ("elderly" but barely) last week and I was almost distracted by that -- I was close to this person but hadn't seen them regularly for several years due to physical distance, but -- and I do feel awful about this -- I just am more torn up about Eva's death.

I have been unable to really cry, other than for the first couple of days, and very sporadically since then, and I'm confused by that. It's almost like this grief feels more like an enormous tired-ness.. I just feel so drained all the time; whenever I really think about Eva, I feel so exhausted. I don't know why that is and I hope she doesn't mistake my lack of tears as not caring... I cried so many times before she died, during the pre-grieving "phase."

Three weeks ago today.

I feel her presence less. I wonder if that means it was time for her to move on, like my husband kept suggesting.

I had that one dream of her that I described, with the sheep and the fence... in addition to that, the night before that dream, I dreamed of just stroking her face like I always did. Then about a week after the sheep dream, I dreamed that my husband and I were walking with Eva around the neighborhood I used to live in, where I intended to bring her for a walk but never did, and as we walked around the block, I noticed she had been walking with us before, but she wasn't there any longer. I calmly remembered, in the dream, that she had died. And my husband and I wordlessly kept walking around the block, understanding, without saying, that we were going to run into her again if we just kept walking.

That's the last dream I've had of her, to date. I told her after the sheep dream that it was okay if that was the last dream I had of her. I told her the same after this dream about the walk. I just hope she knows she was and is so loved, and I hope I meet her again somehow.

I think everybody's grieving process differs a fair bit. When I lost my Rocky boy I did cry a lot for the first few days then it was sporadic crying only here and there. Now it's just a feeling of sadness always underlying any other emotions. Crying is somewhat a release so it would be frustrating not getting that. When my partner lost his cat he cried for about 30 seconds and that was it. I'm sure he was hurting but he dealt with his grief differently. I'm sure Eva is not mistaking anything for you not caring because she would have felt and still be able to feel how much you love her.

I'm sorry to hear about the death of your family member. I have heard many times that the death of a pet is often taken harder than the death of a human family member. I haven't experienced the death of a close family member (touch wood) so I wouldn't know but it does make sense to me. Your pet is usually by your side the entire time you're home- first thing you see when you wake up as well as the last thing before you sleep. They love us unconditionally and whilst you might be a big part of your family member's world, in your pet eyes you're everything. It is a really special bond.

I think you are right about the grieving process differing from person to person, even from loss to loss...I only saw a tear leak out of my husband's eye once at his grandmother's funeral (they were close), never knew he was capable of sobbing, but he was sobbing, sobbing hard, wracked by tears, during and after Eva's euthanasia.

I hope too along those lines that she knows that while she was sedated and I was calling her a good girl over and over, and talking to her about her dad's elephant noises (as he honked into a tissue while he cried - that noise kept startling her), and looking into her eyes, I wasn't actively crying, in fact I was stifling tears and focusing on living in the moment with her.... I just hope she knows that it's not that I wasn't horribly upset - quite the opposite - only that I didn't want to upset her; she hated when I cried - it made her nervous.

You are absolutely right about why it is so difficult when a pet dies. Eva was always by my side. If I was on the couch, she was on the couch or under my feet. If I was in bed, she was right next to my side of the bed, or in the on-suite lying on the towel in front of the shower, where we could see each other. If I was in the shower, she was right outside it; if I was in the bathroom, she was in the bathroom with me. She was my shadow. The apartment seems so empty now...... This weekend is particularly difficult to take; if she was still here, I would have taken her to a remote area to go hiking, I would have given her her first hotdog. We would have snoozed together on the couch she was always such a good sleeper...

My husband and I aren't the only ones who miss her. Our cat misses her, too. People always used to be shocked by their relationship; they were buddies.

As I think I wrote somewhere here, they always slept together or in close proximity, often on the "pet couch." After Eva died, Mika wouldn't sleep on the couch - 'til I brought her urn home. I attached a picture of them sleeping together in life, and after they were separated by the barrier between life and death. I think it's both sad and sweet - just as the bond Eva and I share can't be broken, neither can the bond between Eva and Mika be broken.