Farewell to Our Fuzzy Buddy
This week has been a hard week in our house. On Thursday night, March 30th, we had to say goodbye to our first born, Fred Dawg. Freddy missed his 9th Birthday by 4 days. I was planning on taking the big goof out for ice cream on his big day, had started spoiling him more in these last months with table scraps and extra treats since I knew that the fact that he was turning 9 meant he didn't have much time left with us.
Fred was an English Mastiff, and the breed is said to only live between 6-9 years. Every time we took Fred to the vet, they commented on his health; perfect teeth, strong joints, perfect weight. In his prime he weighed 190lbs, but most recently as low as 135. Just like an old man, losing muscle mass in his advanced age of roughly 86 in dog years.
On Tuesday I had woken up to some vomit from Fred, so in the morning when Nixon was doing his daily chores of feeding the pups I said to only give Fred 2 scoops instead of 4. That night when I came home, he had vomited his breakfast.
I let him out and he ran between the garage and neighbors fence. This made me panic as I know dogs like to hide and be alone to die. We've lived here nearly 3 years and he has NEVER gone back there. Fred is scared of small spaces, and that space is barely one foot wider than his body, a space he'd never enter on any other day.
The next morning, after 2 days of not eating or drinking I scheduled a visit at the vet. The vet came in and started his exam and found Fred had a mass in his abdomen and an issue with his liver. When he pressed on it Fred yelped.
The vet was very sweet in explaining that we had options, and that he normally doesn't guide the decision on euthanasia, but due to Fred's age he felt it might be best. I instantly started crying even though a small voice in my head knew this was going to be the recommendation. All day I thought about it but put it out of my mind.
I've never in my life thought I could be there during euthanasia, but Fred is such a timid soul, and such a mama's boy that I just knew I couldn't leave him alone to die. I would rather put myself through the pain of being there so he knew he was loved and comforted by his mama.
The vet laid down a nice fuzzy blanket, Kyle said goodbye and took Hayden out of the room. I snuggled with my buddy, holding his big head in my lap and wrapped my arms around him as he took his last breaths.
I was a wreck. I cried and laid with him for about 10 minutes. I was so sorry for him. His body started to cool and I had to leave. I didn't want to feel him without his warmth, which is a "thing" I have from losing my mom. My last feelings of her are kissing her cold, hard face before we closed her casket and I just didn't want to remember Fred any other way than warm, snuggly and loving.
We left the vet with our empty collar and leash, a symbol that speaks loudly without saying anything.
Kyle and I drove to Nixon's school to pick him up and I agonized over how to tell him his big fuzzy dog who had been his buddy his whole life was gone. Nixon bound into the car, ecstatic that his WHOLE FAMILY WAS THERE!!! And he was the Student of the Week next week and had a bag of projects to do to prepare!!! His sweet little boy voice with so much innocence and sweetness was about to be saddened with the news that his dog was gone.
Or so I thought.
We got home and I asked him to sit down to Mommy and Daddy could talk to him. He sits, excited, attentive. I say, "Buddy, you know how Fred's been sick this week? Well, he was too sick and he went to Heaven with Gramma Anita". He hops up, looks around the house, and announces "Oh yeah, you're right! He's gone! Can I do my Student of the Week project now?".
Seriously dude? You can't be sad? Meh. So goes life with a nearly six-year-old.
I was a wreck all night. I made Kyle go get us Diary Queen Blizzards and I emotionally ate my way through a medium blizzard. I went to bed but couldn't sleep all night. I was a mess all day at work. My sweetie co-workers gave me a yellow rose plant and a card.
Jack, our other dog, has been having a bit of a rough time with Fred's absence. He refuses to drink out of their shared water bowl. He won't lay on their shared dog bed. He snuggles harder. He avoids the kitchen which is where Fred spent his time because he was afraid of the hardwood floors in the house so he stayed on his big bed where he was safe (and it was quiet in there without kids).
I did some research on how to help a surviving dog with his grief and learned we messed up...they recommend you take him to the vet with you so he can witness the dog's passing and understand the process better. Fail. Sorry Jack Jack.
We'll just have to keep our routines up and help him realize it's OK. You can move on little pup pup. For now Jack and I can be sad together since Nixon doesn't seem to notice. He announced on that first Friday morning, "C'mon Jack, I'll feed you...there's only one of you now". Ugh, little stinker.
I guess as a parent, that's what you want right? Shield them from sadness? I know he's too young to fully understand, and that's OK. Friday morning on our way to school he asked if Fred was in Heaven already. I said maybe he's still on his way. He looks up and says "Oh yeah, you're right. There he is! That spot in the sky! I see him! He has wings! Hi Fred!".
Fly well buddy. We miss you.
Fred was an English Mastiff, and the breed is said to only live between 6-9 years. Every time we took Fred to the vet, they commented on his health; perfect teeth, strong joints, perfect weight. In his prime he weighed 190lbs, but most recently as low as 135. Just like an old man, losing muscle mass in his advanced age of roughly 86 in dog years.
On Tuesday I had woken up to some vomit from Fred, so in the morning when Nixon was doing his daily chores of feeding the pups I said to only give Fred 2 scoops instead of 4. That night when I came home, he had vomited his breakfast.
I let him out and he ran between the garage and neighbors fence. This made me panic as I know dogs like to hide and be alone to die. We've lived here nearly 3 years and he has NEVER gone back there. Fred is scared of small spaces, and that space is barely one foot wider than his body, a space he'd never enter on any other day.
The next morning, after 2 days of not eating or drinking I scheduled a visit at the vet. The vet came in and started his exam and found Fred had a mass in his abdomen and an issue with his liver. When he pressed on it Fred yelped.
The vet was very sweet in explaining that we had options, and that he normally doesn't guide the decision on euthanasia, but due to Fred's age he felt it might be best. I instantly started crying even though a small voice in my head knew this was going to be the recommendation. All day I thought about it but put it out of my mind.
I've never in my life thought I could be there during euthanasia, but Fred is such a timid soul, and such a mama's boy that I just knew I couldn't leave him alone to die. I would rather put myself through the pain of being there so he knew he was loved and comforted by his mama.
The vet laid down a nice fuzzy blanket, Kyle said goodbye and took Hayden out of the room. I snuggled with my buddy, holding his big head in my lap and wrapped my arms around him as he took his last breaths.
I was a wreck. I cried and laid with him for about 10 minutes. I was so sorry for him. His body started to cool and I had to leave. I didn't want to feel him without his warmth, which is a "thing" I have from losing my mom. My last feelings of her are kissing her cold, hard face before we closed her casket and I just didn't want to remember Fred any other way than warm, snuggly and loving.
We left the vet with our empty collar and leash, a symbol that speaks loudly without saying anything.
Kyle and I drove to Nixon's school to pick him up and I agonized over how to tell him his big fuzzy dog who had been his buddy his whole life was gone. Nixon bound into the car, ecstatic that his WHOLE FAMILY WAS THERE!!! And he was the Student of the Week next week and had a bag of projects to do to prepare!!! His sweet little boy voice with so much innocence and sweetness was about to be saddened with the news that his dog was gone.
Or so I thought.
We got home and I asked him to sit down to Mommy and Daddy could talk to him. He sits, excited, attentive. I say, "Buddy, you know how Fred's been sick this week? Well, he was too sick and he went to Heaven with Gramma Anita". He hops up, looks around the house, and announces "Oh yeah, you're right! He's gone! Can I do my Student of the Week project now?".
Seriously dude? You can't be sad? Meh. So goes life with a nearly six-year-old.
I was a wreck all night. I made Kyle go get us Diary Queen Blizzards and I emotionally ate my way through a medium blizzard. I went to bed but couldn't sleep all night. I was a mess all day at work. My sweetie co-workers gave me a yellow rose plant and a card.
Jack, our other dog, has been having a bit of a rough time with Fred's absence. He refuses to drink out of their shared water bowl. He won't lay on their shared dog bed. He snuggles harder. He avoids the kitchen which is where Fred spent his time because he was afraid of the hardwood floors in the house so he stayed on his big bed where he was safe (and it was quiet in there without kids).
I did some research on how to help a surviving dog with his grief and learned we messed up...they recommend you take him to the vet with you so he can witness the dog's passing and understand the process better. Fail. Sorry Jack Jack.
We'll just have to keep our routines up and help him realize it's OK. You can move on little pup pup. For now Jack and I can be sad together since Nixon doesn't seem to notice. He announced on that first Friday morning, "C'mon Jack, I'll feed you...there's only one of you now". Ugh, little stinker.
I guess as a parent, that's what you want right? Shield them from sadness? I know he's too young to fully understand, and that's OK. Friday morning on our way to school he asked if Fred was in Heaven already. I said maybe he's still on his way. He looks up and says "Oh yeah, you're right. There he is! That spot in the sky! I see him! He has wings! Hi Fred!".
Fly well buddy. We miss you.
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