How to cope with the loss of a pet’s life?

For me in these first few days immediately after my dog’s passing, I only want a few more minutes to spend with her. If only I had one more opportunity to rub her belly or hold her in my arms. But I can’t and that finality (or regret) is what I can’t seem to cope with because it’s me, and not her who chose this conclusion to our fifteen years of life together.

On October 3rd, 2022 at 5:30 pm my wife Kelly and I made the ultimate choice in anyone’s life, to end another’s.?

It wasn’t easy to decide to euthanize Carly, our incredibly kind Yorkshire Terrier.?

And is there any worse feeling than looking at your loving pet with the knowledge only you know, they are about to die? There hasn’t been a worse feeling yet in my lifetime.

We had actually broached the topic two years ago when she developed an intestinal issue. It was basically the moment when she changed from the happy-go-lucky dog we always knew to the sickly needy dog we struggled to care for. At that moment we thought there wasn’t much hope for her. She had been placed on drugs which nearly shut down her body. Not until we switched drugs to something more effective, did she regain most of her functions. But from that point on the aging process accelerated much too quickly until finally one Fall day, we made the call to end her mostly empty existence.?

Could she have lived another week, a month, even another year? We don’t know but what we do know was that her quality of life wasn’t good. In the end she was deaf, blind, incontinent (both urination and defecation), had skin issues and hair loss, was intolerant to most dog food, barely drank any water, and then a few weeks prior to her passing she developed an unusually bad cough and labored breathing issue. She struggled to walk, eat, even to breathe. She mostly only stood up to eat or relieve herself; a very sad existence I must admit if it were me in her shoes.?

Alfred, Lord Tennyson once wrote, “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I’m trying to accept that truth.

I’ve lost pets before but this most recent loss after fifteen years of invested time, energy, and emotion seems to be the most difficult one yet.

Those fifteen years included me aging from 32 to 47, seeing two young sons grow into adults, multiple job relocations and numerous other life events. There have been times of great happiness and times so complicated and concerning, I didn’t know how to proceed.?

For Carly, it was a much simpler life. It included her leaving her birth family (a breeder) at four months old, joining our human family of four and her step-sister dogs: Lexi (an older lab/shepherd mix), and eventually Sammie (a one year younger Dachshund). Life for Carly included playing, eating,?sleeping, walking, but mostly showing affection to others. Her older sister, Lexi, passed away several years ago and now fourteen year old sister Sammie remains the sole remaining of the three unlikely companions.

Photo: Carly in her prime between 1-2 years old (2008)

Carly had a personality not unlike most puppies: full of energy and spirit, and an undeniable eagerness to please others. She was never renowned for her intelligence but anyone who knew her saw a never ending sweetness and calm friendliness. As opposed to our “demon possessed” Dachshund (the trouble child), you could not make Carly angry. You could not make her growl or even bite (unless of course you were a naive child pulling her tail or a strange dog picking a fight). Her heart was made of gold. As a testament, we once delivered her to a live-in dog trainer for six weeks when she was still a puppy. Upon her graduation and our reunion, he said he had never met a more “eager to please” dog.?

Still, Carly deserved much anger from us throughout her life. Urinating in the house, on the floor, on the beds, on the couches and everywhere in between tried our patience to the brink of insanity. Despite numerous potty training phases, she never caught on. We finally concluded that urinating was her way of a dog’s passive aggressive revenge or spite for not keeping her by our sides. But it could have been something else. We don’t know.

Fifteen years is a long life for a dog. The average dog’s life is about 11 years and Yorkies are known to live 12-15 years. The AKC estimates dog to human years by a simple formula but to keep it short here, Carly had surpassed 94 years of human equivalent years! I can only hope I make it to that age!

Life for an suburban dog isn’t all that dangerous or risky but she did survive her share of close calls. She survived two surgeries. She survived hours on her own after escaping from many accidentally left open fence gates and every tiny hole in every fence we ever owned. Keeping her at home had always been a struggle. What made it all the more frustrating was how she seemed to strut when we finally found her, like she had achieved some great accomplishment. “I broke out Dad! Aren’t you proud of me?”? She also narrowly escaped a rattlesnake strike and she once survived being lost in a 30-acre green belt for hours where several animal-eating carnivores lurk and hunt for similar sized eight-pound prey. She also survived two rough and tumble young sons during their incorrigible teen years. She even survived after eventually becoming deaf and blind. Even then she would escape the back yard. That’s not so easy!

As she grew older, her personality never swayed. She eventually slowed down but she never left our sides until these last two years. Her inevitable aging made her resort to almost constant sitting and sleeping. No matter, even until the last days when we would leave her in the back yard with Sammie to enjoy some sun and warmth, she would dizzily wander from the back porch to the front gate in hopes of finding us on the other side. To her narrow understanding of the world around her: if she was in the backyard she assumed we had left home and we would eventually arrive back in the driveway. So there she often waited, patiently, for our return to her.?

That may be one of the saddest memories I have; knowing that she only wanted to be with us and how we often took that for granted, living our own lives which often didn’t include her.?

Kelly and I both openly admit we’re not dog people. We somehow ended up with three dogs even so! We often left our dogs alone for many hours at a time. We treated them like dogs, not really like family. Oftentimes we considered our dogs a burden more than a gift. In the end though, we both feel very deeply saddened by the loss. ?

Photo: Carly’s Final Day (October 3rd 2022)

So, back to the question. How to cope??

I don’t know.?

I only know from experience that time heals everything, whether it’s physical or emotional pain. Every day gets a little better. Today was easier than yesterday. Life goes on.?

If I’ve learned anything from this, it’s to cherish the time I have with the ones I love. Don’t take them for granted. Don’t assume they’ll always be there. Live in the moment and live it to the fullest.?

The clock is ticking, and time is our only true enemy.