Thursday, November 5, 2015

Goodbye to a sweet, sweet doggie...

***This post was originally written Monday morning. However, I waited a bit to post it when the feelings weren't so raw. This writing life, is one that isn’t so private. Greg encourages me to write and be honest. He knows this leaves parts of our life exposed. I know this life lived open is harder on him than it is me. He’s lived a life more private and more personal. His style is one of being quiet. Of living behind the scenes. This story is as much his as it is mine. And while I’ve shared it for the world, with his permission, I'm learning to do so in a respectful way. And sometimes that means a little time and a little space.

This Saturday was Halloween.

It was a rainy and dreary day.

This Saturday we said goodbye to a sweet, sweet doggie.


After about 17 years of life, Meg…

…I’m having a hard time even coming up with the words.

We loved her dearly. She’s been my baby since moving in with Greg a little over 6 months ago.

She was Greg’s friend for over a decade.

We’d get up with her multiple times in a night to take her out.

His shift was 12:30am, mine was 3:30am.

After Greg would go to work, we’d spend many mornings off snuggled in the bedroom. 

Meg was my picture buddy. I’d spend hours outside staring at the ground and trees, taking pictures of bugs. She’d wait patiently in the grass and sneak eating dirt when I wasn’t looking.

She could always sense when I was having a bad day. She’d come to my side of the bed and whine when I wouldn’t get up. She’d fall asleep there. She made sure I wasn’t alone.

She watched movies with me and was quiet when I read books.

Meg cleaned up ALL OF THE CRUMBS and food bits I’d constantly drop in the kitchen. She watched me like a hawk when I was in the kitchen. Apparently Greg never dropped food ever. He blamed me for spoiling her and rewarding her for being underfoot while cooking. (I won’t deny it.) But we figured out our “kitchen dance” and Meg and I became perfect cooking buddies.

She had the best kissable cheeks.


And all of these don’t include the YEARS she was there for my husband. She got him through some of the most difficult times. She was always there.

The last several months have been hard on her. She had an increasingly hard time walking. She was having an increasing amount of seizures. She couldn’t hold going potty for very long at all.

But she hung in there. She endured. And she stayed the sweetest doggie.

Thursday things took a turn for the worse. By Friday evening it was clear things weren’t getting any better. Saturday morning we made the decision.

We had known for months that this day was not too far away.

I remember Greg saying while we were dating that he didn’t know if Meg would make it to our wedding. She did.

A couple of months ago, things had gotten to the point where he mentioned for the first time that he thought it was time.

I was shocked and not yet ready to accept it. I did research. I found some short term solutions to give her more time. I knew it could be only days. Maybe weeks. Probably not much more.

Every day I knew we were on borrowed time. But we enjoyed what we had.

We endured the messes and the waking up through the night. We did it knowing Meg still had time. She had life left to live even if it was short. She was worth it.

For us, dogs become a part of our family. They aren’t people, (we wouldn’t want them to be) but we love them dearly. So much of our life is spent with them.

Saturday was one of the saddest days of my life. But even in that day I can savor certain moments.

Early that morning taking Meg outside to go potty at 4am and then carrying her inside. Making a bed for her at the foot of our bed so she could sleep with us.

Bringing her in the kitchen again in the morning and laying her next to the heat vent. Making breakfast with her at my feet.

Holding her tight at the vet’s office. They were running behind so the minutes dragged on and on. Feeling her relax more and more in my arms as we waited. Breathing in her smell. Kissing her cheeks.

Petting her. Over and over again. All day. Over and over. All the way until the end.

There were tears. Oh there were tears. There still are.

As we drove home I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. Living this life with a heart so open and exposed is so new to me. It’s so different. And so scary. And yet so wonderful.

I didn’t know how to be there for my husband. We both process things so differently. We both experience grief so differently. But I do know that I love him. And I know that he loves me. And we are living this life together. And we are figuring out so much.

I talk when he needs silence. I say too much too soon. 

We’re learning how to be there for one another. And I can only imagine that this takes time. Years and years and experience after experience. A lifetime.

And I know that this is way harder for him than it is me. Meg was so much to him.

I held his hand as he drove and got lost in my thoughts.

I felt thankfulness for the emotions. I felt a new sense of resolution. I didn’t numb myself. I walked through each moment present. I felt it all. I experienced life.

I felt thankful that even in this process of being vulnerable to the feelings there was a peace. There was a sharp and raw pain. But there was this strange peace. And deep… joy maybe? Not the happiness joy. But this joy that was deeper. That even in the sadness there was a sense of something greater. And there was a deep… foundation of something I was standing on. Words don’t seem sufficient to describe it.

And I soaked in the moments we shared. The life that Meg was a part of. The amazing years she had.


Nights and mornings are the hardest right now. Both nights I’ve laid in bed and cried. Mornings feel empty without waking up to her waiting for me. Without her sweet eyes looking at me.

Last night I pulled a Meg hair out of my mouth. Dog owners will understand this dog hair life. It’s everywhere. I’m sure we’ll find mementos for months to come.

Being home alone is also the worst. This was our time. Her presence was always there.

Just all the sweetness. That’s what I’m left with. The sweetness that Meg brought to our lives.

And so this Monday begins. Another day, another week. A new month.



2 comments:

  1. I just cried...a lot.
    Those pictures of Meg are beautiful. She seemed like such a sweet dog to you and Greg.
    Our two dogs are like our children (and best friends). I am sure that is not easy.
    Sending hugs your way.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, friend. Our furbabies do such an awesome job of loving us. Such unconditional love. We miss her, but I'm so thankful for the time we had.

      Delete

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