You Will Never Get Over It

You will never get over it. 

You will learn to live with it.

These wise words these were offered in response to a woman depressed over the death of her beloved dog.

I can certainly relate to that. I can't say I'm depressed because my dear, sweet Jett died at only 2 years old. But I still cry for him when I think about how awful his death was.

I also get angry when I think about how I was treated by the staff at the veterinary clinic after his death, a veterinary clinic I had patronized with six or more dogs for 14 years. And I'm angry that the veterinarian didn't pick up on the source of Jett's problem.

The reception staff should never tell somebody grieving the death of a beautiful, young, vibrant and healthy dog who died two days after getting sick, to take a breath and relax. No, you stupid fool, I won't get over it. I won’t relax. I want answers. 

I was told my dog's necropsy would take about a week. Some three weeks later, I still could not find out where his body was. I wanted to bring him home. You work in an animal hospital. You are the front line with clients calling about their pets. Show some compassion. If you can't answer a client's question, find someone who can.

I no longer take my dog to that animal hospital. None of my future dogs will be taken there for any reason. The utter and complete lack of sympathy and compassion makes that entire operation unworthy of my patronage and the thousands of dollars I have spent over the years on my dogs. So go take a breath and f*** yourself.

I have a good friend who is a therapist. She is the person responsible for getting Jett to me because she recognized that he deserved a far better home than the one he had next door to her in North Carolina. She also mourns his loss. She understands how I feel. She told me I need to adopt another dog to help me replace the deep grief I feel with joy.

I looked online for several months for another dog, but I was unable to find an adoptable golden retriever, which is the breed I really want. I've had six and a half goldens over the years. I know I could find another wonderful dog that isn't a golden. After all, the shelters are full to bursting with dogs in need of homes. But my heart belongs, and will always belong, to golden retrievers. 

Online friends from across the country sent me suggestions of available adult goldens, but driving to New England or to Washington State or even to Colorado during winter is not an option. And I know how quickly goldens get adopted. So I decided to take a break for a while from searching, and hope that a dog would find me. 

I believe that when a dog I really love dies and crosses the Rainbow 🌈 Bridge, he will send another dog to me. It may take a while, but it will happen. I just have to be patient.

Six months after Jett's death, I am definitely not over it. I doubt if I ever will be. Everything about the death of this beautiful dog haunts me. I still cry whenever I think about it, and I'm not one who cries easily. 

In until Jett sends me another dog to start to fill the hole in my heart, I am enjoying my other dog, Jenny, as we deepen our relationship and enjoys my undivided attention.

You will never get over it. You will learn to live with it.

What wise words these are in response to a woman depressed over the death of her beloved dog.

I can certainly relate to that. I can't say I'm depressed because my dear, sweet Jett died at only 2 years old. But I still cry for him when I think about how awful his death was.

I also get angry when I think about how I was treated by the staff at the veterinary clinic after his death, a veterinary clinic I had patronized with six or more dogs 

 for 14 years. And I'm angry that the veterinarian didn't pick up on the source of Jetr's problem.

You don't tell somebody grieving the death of a beautiful, young, vibrant and healthy dog who died two days after getting sick, to take a breath and relax. No, you stupid cow, I won't get over it. I won’t relax. I want answers. 

I was told my dog's necropsy would take about a week. Some three weeks later, I still could not find out where his body was. I wanted to bring him home. You work in an animal hospital. You are the front line with incoming clients. Show some compassion.

I no longer take my dogs to that animal hospital. None of my future dogs will be taken there for any reason. The utter and complete lack of sympathy and compassion makes that entire operation unworthy of my patronage and the thousands of dollars I have spent over the years on my dogs. So go take a breath and f*** yourself.

I have a good friend who is a therapist. She is the person responsible for getting Jett to me because she recognized that he deserved a far better home than the one he had next door to her in North Carolina. She also mourns his loss. She understands how I feel. She told me I need to adopt another dog to help me replace the deep grief I feel with joy.

I looked online for several months for another dog, but I was unable to find an adaptable golden retriever, which is the breed I really want. I've had six and a half goldens over the years. I know

You will never get over it. You will learn to live with it.

What wise words these are in response to a woman depressed over the death of her beloved dog.

I can certainly relate to that. I can't say I'm depressed because my dear, sweet Jett died at only 2 years old. But I still cry for him when I think about how awful his death was.

I also get angry when I think about how I was treated by the staff at the veterinary clinic after his death, a veterinary clinic I had patronized with six or more dogs 

 for 14 years. And I'm angry that the veterinarian didn't pick up on the source of Jetr's problem.

You don't tell somebody grieving the death of a beautiful, young, vibrant and healthy dog who died two days after getting sick, to take a breath and relax. No, you stupid cow, I won't get over it. I won’t relax. I want answers. 

I was told my dog's necropsy would take about a week. Some three weeks later, I still could not find out where his body was. I wanted to bring him home. You work in an animal hospital. You are the front line with incoming clients. Show some compassion.

I no longer take my dogs to that animal hospital. None of my future dogs will be taken there for any reason. The utter and complete lack of sympathy and compassion makes that entire operation unworthy of my patronage and the thousands of dollars I have spent over the years on my dogs. So go take a breath and f*** yourself.

I have a good friend who is a therapist. She is the person responsible for getting Jett to me because she recognized that he deserved a far better home than the one he had next door to her in North Carolina. She also mourns his loss. She understands how I feel. She told me I need to adopt another dog to help me replace the deep grief I feel with joy.

I looked online for several months for another dog, but I was unable to find an adaptable golden retriever, which is the breed I really want. I've had six and a half goldens over the years. I know I could find another wonderful dog that isn't a golden. After all, the shelters are full to bursting with dogs in need of homes. But my heart belongs, and will always belong, to golden retrievers. 

Online friends from across the country sent me suggestions of available adult goldens, but driving to New England or to Washington State or even to Colorado during winter is not an option. And I know how quickly goldens get adopted. So I decided to take a break for a while from searching, and hope that a dog would find me. 

I believe that when a dog I really love dies and crosses the Rainbow 🌈 Bridge, he will send another dog to me. It may take a while, but it will happen. I just have to be patient.

A few days ago I decided to check the website of a local animal rescue group that I hadn't checked recently. To my immense surprise, there was a 5-year-old male Golden retriever listed. It was noted that he has a medical waiver because he needs some dental work done. 

This dog, named Marley, was admitted to the shelter on December 12. I found him online on December 17. I got to the shelter shortly after it opened the following morning at 10:00 a.m. after filling out some preliminary paperwork, I got to meet Marley and a small room. He wasn't terribly interested in meeting me, but I learned that he had been brought from the shelter or animal control facility in the small New Mexico town of Artesia. So he had been through a lot of changes. He was a happy boy, and he enjoyed playing with a large squeaky rubber hamburger. 

I decided I would like to bring him home with me, but first I needed to bring Jenny, my current dog to the shelter so the pups could meet. We did that the following day. The dogs didn't have a great deal of interest in each other, but there was no growling or snarling between them either. 

Unfortunately, one of the attendants discovered what she called a significant amount of blood in Marley's poop. So that put everything on hold until he could be checked out by the veterinarian. 

He has been seen by the veterinarian, but now we're awaiting results of a stool sample that was sent to a laboratory for analysis. I'm told I will be called as soon as Marley is cleared for adoption, pending Jenny's second visit to meet him.

 I could find 

You will never get over it. You will learn to live with it.

What wise words these are in response to a woman depressed over the death of her beloved dog.

I can certainly relate to that. I can't say I'm depressed because my dear, sweet Jett died at only 2 years old. But I still cry for him when I think about how awful his death was.

I also get angry when I think about how I was treated by the staff at the veterinary clinic after his death, a veterinary clinic I had patronized with six or more dogs 

 for 14 years. And I'm angry that the veterinarian didn't pick up on the source of Jetr's problem.

You don't tell somebody grieving the death of a beautiful, young, vibrant and healthy dog who died two days after getting sick, to take a breath and relax. No, you stupid cow, I won't get over it. I won’t relax. I want answers. 

I was told my dog's necropsy would take about a week. Some three weeks later, I still could not find out where his body was. I wanted to bring him home. You work in an animal hospital. You are the front line with incoming clients. Show some compassion.

I no longer take my dogs to that animal hospital. None of my future dogs will be taken there for any reason. The utter and complete lack of sympathy and compassion makes that entire operation unworthy of my patronage and the thousands of dollars I have spent over the years on my dogs. So go take a breath and f*** yourself.

I have a good friend who is a therapist. She is the person responsible for getting Jett to me because she recognized that he deserved a far better home than the one he had next door to her in North Carolina. She also mourns his loss. She understands how I feel. She told me I need to adopt another dog to help me replace the deep grief I feel with joy.

I looked online for several months for another dog, but I was unable to find an adaptable golden retriever, which is the breed I really want. I've had six and a half goldens over the years. I know I could find another wonderful dog that isn't a golden. After all, the shelters are full to bursting with dogs in need of homes. But my heart belongs, and will always belong, to golden retrievers. 

Online friends from across the country sent me suggestions of available adult goldens, but driving to New England or to Washington State or even to Colorado during winter is not an option. And I know how quickly goldens get adopted. So I decided to take a break for a while from searching, and hope that a dog would find me. 

I believe that when a dog I really love dies and crosses the Rainbow 🌈 Bridge, he will send another dog to me. It may take a while, but it will happen. I just have to be patient.

A few days ago I decided to check the website of a local animal rescue group that I hadn't checked recently. To my immense surprise, there was a 5-year-old male Golden retriever listed. It was noted that he has a medical waiver because he needs some dental work done. 

This dog, named Marley, was admitted to the shelter on December 12. I found him online on December 17. I got to the shelter shortly after it opened the following morning at 10:00 a.m. after filling out some preliminary paperwork, I got to meet Marley and a small room. He wasn't terribly interested in meeting me, but I learned that he had been brought from the shelter or animal control facility in the small New Mexico town of Artesia. So he had been through a lot of changes. He was a happy boy, and he enjoyed playing with a large squeaky rubber hamburger. 

I decided I would like to bring him home with me, but first I needed to bring Jenny, my current dog to the shelter so the pups could meet. We did that the following day. The dogs didn't have a great deal of interest in each other, but there was no growling or snarling between them either. 

Unfortunately, one of the attendants discovered what she called a significant amount of blood in Marley's poop. So that put everything on hold until he could be checked out by the veterinarian. 

He has been seen by the veterinarian, but now we're awaiting results of a stool sample that was sent to a laboratory for analysis. I'm told I will be called as soon as Marley is cleared for adoption, pending Jenny's second visit to meet him.

 wonderful dog that isn't a golden. After all, the shelters are full to bursting with dogs in need of homes. But my heart belongs, and will always belong, to golden retrievers. 

Online friends from across the country sent me suggestions of available adult goldens, but driving to New England or to Washington State or even to Colorado during winter is not an option. And I know how quickly goldens get adopted. So I decided to take a break for a while from searching, and hope that a dog would find me. 

I believe that when a dog I really love dies and crosses the Rainbow 🌈 Bridge, he will send another dog to me. It may take a while, but it will happen. I just have to be patient.

A few days ago I decided to check the website of a local animal rescue group that I hadn't checked recently. To my immense surprise, there was a 5-year-old male Golden retriever listed. It was noted that he has a medical waiver because he needs some dental work done. 

This dog, named Marley, was admitted to the shelter on December 12. I found him online on December 17. I got to the shelter shortly after it opened the following morning at 10:00 a.m. after filling out some preliminary paperwork, I got to meet Marley and a small room. He wasn't terribly interested in meeting me, but I learned that he had been brought from the shelter or animal control facility in the small New Mexico town of Artesia. So he had been through a lot of changes. He was a happy boy, and he enjoyed playing with a large squeaky rubber hamburger. 

I decided I would like to bring him home with me, but first I needed to bring Jenny, my current dog to the shelter so the pups could meet. We did that the following day. The dogs didn't have a great deal of interest in each other, but there was no growling or snarling between them either. 

Unfortunately, one of the attendants discovered what she called a significant amount of blood in Marley's poop. So that put everything on hold until he could be checked out by the veterinarian. 

He has been seen by the veterinarian, but now we're awaiting results of a stool sample that was sent to a laboratory for analysis. I'm told I will be called as soon as Marley is cleared for adoption, pending Jenny's second visit to meet him.