My Sweet Things

Yesterday was the hardest day of my life. Yesterday, our sweet family dog Pepe was put to rest. Pepe was 15 years old. The last few weeks he was not his usual self and had started to suffer from short seizures. I took him to the vet on Saturday Morning and was told the painful news…congestive heart failure. I wept. The vet offered a prescription for heart medication and a diuretic. She said that it might help but really would only prolong his life if I was not ready to let him go. Of course I was not ready to let him go. When are you ever ready for that? I wept some more and hugged my pup. The vet suggested I keep him comfortable and speak to the family and make a decision. He did not have much longer. I spoke with my son’s who both do not live at home. My older son Nick got Pepe for this 10th birthday. Nick will be 25 on April 17th. When Nick moved out of the house, my younger son Andrew claimed Pepe as his dog. Both boys were heartbroken by the news and we all knew we had to decide. “We” being me.

Sunday was a tough day for Pepe. His breathing became more labored and he suffered two seizures. Sunday night I made that decision. I can’t explain what it felt like to have him next to me on Sunday night, knowing what I had to do on Monday. Heartbreaking. I did not think I had the strength to end his life. I was angry. I wanted God to take Pepe and he did not. I had to make that decision. I watched him and silently wished he would stop breathing so it would be God’s will and not mine.

Monday my husband and I took him to the vet. I wept. I petted his cheek and stroked his head. The vet spoke with us about the arrangements and we decided on a communal cremation. A communal cremation is when your pet is cremated with other pets at the same time. The cremated remains are not returned and the ashes are spread in a natural setting. He would be with other puppies and that was comforting to me.

They removed Pepe from the room for a short time and brought him back with a stint in his front right leg to administer the shot. His breathing was heavy. Dr. Sokol said it would be quick and she gave him the shot. I held him close, head to head and my hand on his chest. It was quick. He was gone. His little eyes were open and I continued to pet him. I wept. Heavy sobs.I never imagined it would be so hard. My husband wept beside me. I sat back and looked at Pepe and as sad and heartbroken as I was, I was relieved that he was no longer in any pain. He was headed for a happy place with balls that never rolled under sofas so he would always be able to get them back.

I kissed Pepe goodbye and thanked Dr. Sokol for her kindness and compassion. I headed back to work as I needed the distraction. When 6 pm came and it was time for me to head home, my legs started shaking. I did not want to walk to my car. I knew he would not be home waiting for me at the window or the back door. I made it home and it was a tough night. I kept glancing at where his doggie beds used to be. The tears flowed as they are flowing now.

I have my cats who are some comfort but I have an empty space in my heart and it hurts.

My sweet friend Linda, put her little Bear down last Monday. She knows my pain. When I came to work on Monday, this note was sitting on my desk.

If you ever love an animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember . . .

The first is a day, blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend. You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter — simply because something in its eyes reached your heart. But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or front room — and when you feel it brush against you for the first time — it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through the many years to come.

The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later. It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth. You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy. And you will see sleep when you once saw activity. So you will begin to adjust your friend’s diet — and you may add a pill or two to her food. And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness. And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.

And on this day — if your friend and whatever higher being you believe in have not decided for you, then you will be faced with making a decision of your own — on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit. But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you — you will feel as lone as a single star in the dark night.

If you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or friends will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.

But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joy-filled years, you may find that a soul — a bit smaller in size than your own — seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come.

And at moments when you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush against your leg — very very lightly.

And looking down at the place where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lie — you will remember those three significant days. The memory will most likely to be painful, and leave an ache in your heart — As time passes the ache will come and go as if it has a life of its own. You will both reject it and it, and it may confuse you. If you reject it, it will depress you. If you embrace it, it will deepen you. Either way, it will still be an ache.

But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when — along with the memory of your pet — and piercing through the heaviness in your heart — there will come a realization that belongs only to you. It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost. This realization takes the form of a Living Love — like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow — and be there for us to remember. It is a love we have earned. It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go. And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live. It is a Love which is ours alone. And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets — it is a Love we will always possess.

By Martin Scot Kosins

Thank you to my friends who were sweet to Pepe and  loved on him when you came to visit.

Thank you for your kind words of comfort during this sad time for our family.

It’s not all good but I know in time it will be. ~ Donna