Has it been a year? (Non-dog lovers please skip)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
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A year ago today, Mr. Scarlett and I lost the best dog in the world, our best friend ever, the sweetest English springer spaniel, Miss Emily Kimberly.

We hoped you would just take a nap one day and just fade away (not for a few years yet – you were only eleven and a half), but that didn’t happen. At least we were home with you all weekend when you weren’t feeling well – we’re glad for that. Boyd (your god and master) took a little nap with you on Sunday afternoon, hoping you’d feel better after some rest. But you didn’t. We made two frantic trips to the vet that night, and you didn’t survive the second one. How we wish we could have comforted you in those last few minutes as your heart failed and the blood left your brain, leaving you confused and scared – but you seemed not to know we were there. But we believe some part of you was aware of our love and support. I’m glad you could die in the arms of the one who loved you most – and he was glad for that too. I stayed with you and petted you as you lay on the vet’s table, while Boyd and the vet took care of paperwork.

Now your urn is on the piano in the living room, engraved with your name and dates. There’s also a biscuit, one of those mints you loved to steal, a tennis ball, and a picture of you covered with soot and dirt, “the dirtiest dog in the world,” after you’d gotten into the burning pile. And of course fresh posies every week. We talk to you and speak your name, in the hope that your spirit might remain near your ashes and the home and people you loved. Our bond with you was that strong.

And we hope that you approve of your successor, Miss Phyllis. We could not go very long without having a springer around, and luckily Phyllis was already a bun in the oven when you left us, so by the time we were ready to go looking for our puppy, she was already born. We found out about her when she was just four days old. We visited her a few times while she was still with her mom, and how she reminded us of you when you were that little! Now she’s 10 months old and loads of fun. She is different from you in many ways, but she shares your intelligence and wit. And of course she has natural springer beauty, just like you. We love her for being her unique self, of course, but we hope that some small part of you resides in her, and we tell her that she must share her petting with you until we join you again and can pet you ourselves.

We send love to you every day, Miss Emily, but especially on this day. Boyd has said that you will never be a “past tense” dog to him. I think that’s about the best legacy a fine dog could leave behind her.

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Been there. We lost ours about 5 years ago, and it looks like her puppy, Spike, is going as well. She’s only 7 or 8, but not feeling well these days.

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must… fight… tears…

dammit, I knew I was gonna think of Pluggy, my late and lamented Boston Terrier, the minute I opened this thread. I still miss the Stoopid Doggue.

One of these days, when the three of us have a house and can have dogs, we are getting another BT and we’re gonna call him Stuff. (And a pug named Emma.)

4

I miss my dachsund, Oscar. He died just after the Fourth two years ago from what the vet thought was food poisoning. (Another good reason not to feed dogs people food.)

One of my main criteria for a new apartment is permission to have a small dog. And the dog will be a dachsund.

Robin

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Hugs, Scarlett. I’m not even going to get mad at you for making me cry at work!

My mom’s dog was hit by a car and killed last spring. She was 7 years old and much loved, and the guy who hit her was speeding, ran a stop sign, and swerved around the corner so fast that his car ran onto our property, where Johanna was standing. She wasn’t even out in the road; she was behaving herself in her own yard. I wanted my parents to try to pursue some kind of charges-- I mean even from the “it’s just a dog/it’s property” point of view, this guy was driving recklessly and destroyed said property.

I do not buy the “it’s just a dog” point of view, so I was heartbroken and felt so bad for my mom, because Johanna was really her baby. It hurt me deeply when a couple of my friends pulled the “it’s just a dog” thing-- come on, even if you think that way, would it kill you not to say so just for now?

Sorry for the personal tangent. It’s just that your lovely post reminded me of how much I miss Johanna. They have a new dog now; like your Miss Phyllis, she’s a gem in her own right but different from her predecessor.

Please give Phyllis an ear scratchie and tell her it’s from me :slight_smile:

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That was a very nice post, Scarlett. Even though Miss Emily left sooner than you would have liked, you gave her over 11 years of quality life. Like Rosebud said, too many people have the “it’s just a dog” mentality. It’s always nice to hear people who think so highly of their pets. I like the little shrine idea, too. I’ve also saved things like collars, chunks of fur or their brush, toys, etc.

My oldest dog Grizzly just turned 13, and I can’t help but wonder how much time he has…and if he’ll go easily, or if I’ll have to make that awful decision.

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Scarlett, I am sorry for you lose. We lost our 1 year old Great Dane, roo, to a gastric torsion about 2 years ago. We got a new dog the next day (it just sort of happened, and Ipso is in no way a replacement for Roo) and we still missed roo for over a year…closer to 2.

Dane owners believe that, on death, puppies cross the rainbow bridge and live in the puppy equivelent of Valhalla. I’d find the poem for you, but it pretty much puts me in tears for a couple of hours. Anyway, I found a little solace in that belief, and hope you do, too.

I said good bye to my dog right before he was put to sleep. I know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that, in spite of the anastetha, and the tube down his throat, that he heard me. I know that Miss Emily heard you and was comforted.

I am sorry. The pain fades, and the happy memories live on.

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Thanks to everyone for your replies. I didn’t post this with the expectation of responses, but rather just to mark the day.

Saint Zero: Give Spike an extra belly rub from me. And cherish every day with her. Even though we wish she had lived longer, we were grateful that Emily was with us for so long. Quite a while back we had a bad streak where we lost several young dogs to accidents and illness. During Emily’s last few years I made a point of consciously appreciating her and realizing that today could be her last. I’m glad I did that now.

Olentzero (no relation, I presume :)) They stay with us a long time, don’t they? Even when they’re lunkheads.

Emily’s successor was supposed to be named Dottie, but we decided to get two puppies about a year apart, and the second name we chose seemed to fit Miss Phyllis. So Dottie is still out there somewhere, if only in twinkle form. We’re hoping that Emily’s breeder will have a litter soon – we’re on his list.

msrobyn: Accidents are awful, aren’t they? Emily’s heart failure was caused in part by something she got into, so I think I understand about Oscar. We have managed not to beat ourselves up over it; we didn’t know she was having a problem, and we are making sure that the same thing doesn’t happen again.

As for living arrangements, now that we do own a house, I could never go back to living where I couldn’t have my menagerie!

Rosebud: Poor Johanna! Poor Rosemom! I hope you are taking comfort in her 7 wonderful years with you. We were lucky in that our friends and family understood just how much we loved Emily; then again, most of them are critter lovers themselves. There was one particularly bad exception to this (not a friend or family), which I won’t go into here, but I’ll just say that there is surely a special place in hell reserved for that person.

Interesting side note: I sent out a brief e-mail to friends and family later that night, to let them know about our bad day. My friend Leanne, whose daughter was one of shy Emily’s few buddies outside our family and who had cared for her when we went on vacation, replied that she had felt “an extremely strange down” that night from about 5:30 to 7:30. 5:30 was when Boyd and Emily got up from their nap and we realized that she had gotten decidedly worse, and 7:30 was the time I had noted when we got back into the van after Emily’s last trip to the vet. I had not mentioned any details in my e-mail, just that Emily had died. <insert spooky music here>

Oh, and I called Phyllis out from under my desk and gave her your scratchie right away! :slight_smile: I am fortunate to be able to work at home with a puppy licking my toes.

Dire Wolf: I’m glad you like our “shrine” idea. Some might think it’s silly, but it’s our home, and we display the things that we find pleasing. :slight_smile: We have other mementos as well. There’s a tuft of hair from her last clipping that I will put in my amulet pouch when I get around to it, along with one of Phyllis’s puppy teeth. And also Emily’s first puppy collar, interlinked with the collar and tags Boyd removed from her neck that night. I attended a drum circle on New Year’s Day where we were asked to bring (and explain, if we wished) a significant object to be placed in the center as we drummed. My object was the collars. I told about Emily, and that I would be drumming “in memory of [I held up the large collar] and in anticipation of someday having a new [I held up the small collar].”

We donated Emily’s prescription food to the no-kill shelter, gave her bed to one of the outside dogs, and washed out her steel dishes for Phyllis. We still find her stinky old tennis balls from time to time.

13 years with Grizzly! How lucky you are to have had so much time with him. If you do have to make that decision, just remember that people are fighting to be able to do this final favor for human loved ones. It is the last expression of love you can give. Having said all that, I’m not sure how we would have fared if we had had to make that decision.

bashere: So young! How hard that must have been. I’m glad you could be with him. No, you certainly can’t replace a good dog – that’s why I prefer to say “successor.”

I know about the Rainbow Bridge. I’d like to think that the afterlife is some combination of that and Cynthia Rylant’s Dog Heaven.

I had always expected that Boyd would be the one who was a mess after Emily was gone – but instead I was the worse basket case. I could not work properly for about a week – I was too busy going off on howling, screaming, crying jags. I just could not believe she was gone. She still seemed to be lying in all her favorite places, and I would lie there “with” her, trying to pick up some remnant of her. Boyd was extremely upset, I know, but he was a rock compared to poor old Scarlett. He ended up comforting me – and Emily was HIS dog, heart and soul! (She loved me too, but only secondary to him. As for how much he loved her, well, if she’d been a woman, I’d have kicked his butt.)

Thank you again, everyone, for helping me remember this small, sweet soul, and for sharing memories of your own. They steal our hearts, and then they break them . . . <pause to share extra kisses with Phyllis>

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hugs for Scarlett

I’ve only had one dog, but she was…she was wonderful. Her name was Gretel, and she was a Cairn Terrier. We got her when I was 2…I don’t remember any other dog. And she ADORED me. Was like the little sister I didn’t have. I remember her waiting on out front stoop for me when I’d get off the bus…she’d wait until I got to the driveway, then run down to meet me. She ate my crayons, got into my gum, walked all over games I’d play with my friends…

We got two reprieves for Gretel…when I was 10, she was hit by a car. I don’t remember a lot, just hearing my mom screaming for her to stop, then crying. She recovered with a couple scratches on her face. About 4-5 years later, she had a tennis-ball sized fatty tumor. The vet couldn’t guarantee she’d recover, but we had the surgery done, because we loved her.

I loved her more than anything. But, like everyone, she got old. I went to college, and she kept my mom company for a while. She was getting sicker, but…we couldn’t let her go yet. Finally, after I came home my freshman year, she had (we think) a stroke. She couldn’t recognize where she was, or where things were. In a house she’d lived in for over 15 years. So, we made the decision to have her put to sleep.

She was so sick, she didn’t realize we were in the car. The vet let us come straight back to a room, and asked us if we wanted some time alone first. We did, and my mom, my dad and I all said goodbye. And we were ALL crying…one of hte few times I’ve seen my dad cry. And I asked her the one command I’d ever taught her. “Gimme a kiss, Gretel.” And she looked at me and licked my face, which was what she was supposed to do. So, like bashere, I know that for one last moment, she knew who I was. And then the vet came in, and gave her the shot. She passed away, having given us 16 wonderful years of companionship. I still miss her, and it’s been 6 years.

And Scarlett…I don’t think the shrine is odd. When we got Gretel’s ashes back, we were planning on scattering them down by our fence, since she loved running there. But we never did…the box stayed in the living room. When my parents moved, they took the box, because they couldn’t bear to think of Gretel being there alone without us.

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About the shrine idea-- I don’t know if that’s how my mom would refer to it, but she does have Johanna’s ashes in a small box. We usually bury our animals on our property but Johanna was a big dog and I think going through the process of burying her would have made the whole experience worse. She also has Johanna’s first puppy-sized collar, and the one she was wearing when she died.

Scarlett, your friend’s Twilight Zone moment reminded me of something my mom told me. They carried Johanna from the spot where she was hit back up onto the patio; as they’re easing her down again, her collar slips off. For no apparent reason, and it was securely fastened. Mom said she felt like Johanna did it on purpose somehow, to say goodbye. Sort of a release, I guess.

Yes, we do value the 7 years we had with her :slight_smile: And, aside from the fact that Johanna didn’t die alone, and didn’t suffer (at least not for long… it was very quick) Rosemom (I like that!) specifically remembers giving her a hug and an “I love you” that morning before the accident. It’s nice to have little things like that to think of…

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(((Scarlett)))

I don’t think a shrine is odd either. I have a beautiful framed photo of my late spoiled-rotten-weiler on top of my monitor, and the prior rottie’s photo still on the fridge though it’s been 11 years since #1 died, and last June since the Bosco-man passed (after a long happy life, of cancer at age 10.) We had him euthanized at home, with alot of his favourite people around him…that dog was a ham & always loved a party!

I still have my two geriatric mutts around, though. Phoebe & Jake are still going strong.