I’m extremely blessed in that I’ve had to make few hard choices in life. Part of that has been because I’m half-hippy and I rode the waves of my teens and 20s decently well. My 30s have been less nonchalant, but I’ve focused on more important things. The other factor in not making hard decisions thus far is that unlike those people with tragic pasts, I’ve been spared. So the decision I made to put little Chloe to sleep and hold her in my arms as she peacefully exited this world with me has been by far the hardest I’ve ever made.
I’m glad I read about “what to expect when you lose a pet” just before I made the decision. As we waited for the doctor visit that morning, I curled up in the bathroom floor–where Chloe wanted to be and wouldn’t leave–with my iphone and a blanket and I read some online articles from vet associations (sobbing). I didn’t know what was going to happen until the vet said anything else would be a bandaid and there wasn’t much he could do for her. At that point, I had to live up to a promise I made that dog a long, long, long time ago–not to let her suffer. Some people thought I went too long on that promise but I would look at her and know her spirit was not giving up. That Monday morning in the bathroom I looked at a dog whose spirit was weak and tired. And I knew. Well, I was inclined. Like I said, I wasn’t 100% ready to let her go until I knew I couldn’t do any more for her. But something in the days that led up to it and something in her eyes told me she might be ready.
A lot of guilt follows that decision. Could I have done more? Did I do it to make my life easier and not hers? But I came in the house today and after I did my feel incredibly sad and cry thing–as I still do everytime I come here–I realized she would be here today having trouble walking and not able to stand long enough to eat a meal and I know I did what I had to do for her. It’s having someone by your side every day for 13 years and then having them gone that is hard for me. That little dog kept me grounded and sane. She made this house a home, gave me a purpose, and in the last few years my schedule developed around her needs. To have that suddenly end, well, it’s just hard to process.
She was a substitute for a child and I treated her like a baby until she became an old lady. That was the hard part. Watching her decline and everyday making sure my baby was as comfortable as possible. At the end, I could no more to make her comfortable in this world. Her legs were giving out, her bladder has zero resistance, and she’d stopped eating. I seriously believe that dog and I lived for each other at many, many times during those 13 years. She knew when I needed pulling up and vice versa. Many tears were licked off my face and many, many times she knew I was hurting and curled up to me. And in the end, it was I who had to lift her up and down, make recipes out of her dog food so she’d eat, and cheer her along so she’d walk to pee and back inside the house. Looking back, I knew the day would come I just don’t think any amount of knowing time is ticking away can make an absence of someone any easier.
Dealing with grief has been made easier thanks to my friends and family, especially the boyfriend. That’s the thing about your 30s, you’re confident you can get through anything alone; but having those few people who step up to make sure you don’t have to is the greatest thing in the world. I can’t praise everyone enough. The bf is the one person stuck with me nearly 24/7. When we aren’t together, he gets the texts. He takes my mind off it when I get down, reassures me, comforts me, and just loves me through it. Every single day.
I can’t wait to get to the Acceptance stage. Not quite there yet. It feels like I may forever wonder if I did the right thing. And when I come home, it feels like she should be here. I look at the box with her ashes and I almost can’t comprehend that’s where she is now. Again, lucky me, I haven’t been in many hard spots. So, as trivial as it is compared to some people’s lives, this is has been the hardest month of my life learning to live without her.