Love and Loss

 I have loved, and lost, more than a dozen adopted dogs in my life.

And while I mourn the passing of each dog, some more than others, not until Jett's untimely death have I had a visceral, physical reaction to a death.

I have thrown up. I have had pain in my back. I have forgotten to eat lunch. I forgot what day of the week it was. I forgot to use the prescription eye drops I have used twice/day for several years.

Jett was with me less than a year when meningitis -- an inflammation of his brain -- took his life. He was just 2 years and 3 months old.

I was saddened but holding myself together until Jett's veterinarian called with the preliminary results of his necropsy (animal autopsy). Jett died of meningitis, an inflammation of the brain resulting from an abscess behind his left eye. How he got the abscess is unknown. But hearing what killed him at such a young age brought relief to finally have answers, while also bringing on a lot of tears. Even his veterinarian was crying.

When I finished the call, I unleashed a torrent of tears along with sobs and screams. Just thinking about Jett and knowing he is gone brings me to tears.

This is a deep, raw wound that is going to take a very long time to heal. I suspect the scars will last forever.

The Aftermath of Grief

Let's talk about what not to do when someone loses a beloved pet.

My 2-year-old dog Jett died suddenly last week. Although he had been with me just 11 months, his sudden loss was traumatic. I am still in a fog. Since then, several friends have reached out online with words of sympathy and condolences. And I appreciate that.

Two other friends -- both of them great friends and good people -- said things that were not helpful at best, and hurtful at worse. The first thing that shocked and hurt me came from the friend who came to my house minutes after I reported Jett's death. She was kind and attentive, gently covering his body with a blanket, leaving his head uncovered. When I replied that I felt as if I failed him , her response was "You did fail him." I had taken Jett to the veterinarian at the first sign something wasn't right. I followed directions for giving him his prescribed medication exactly. I returned to the veterinarian two days later, the day he died so suddenly. So how, exactly, did I fail him ? 

Later, she became convinced that Jett died of an overdose of one of his medications. If he overdosed, it was not because of anything I did. I followed the doctor's instructions exactly. I am having a necropsy performed on Jett, and I hope that will provide some answers. In the meantime, speculation or comments about how he died of an overdose are not helpful or welcome.

The second friend, who had been responsible for me rescuing Jett and for arranging for him to be driven to me halfway across the country, after being stunned that he had died, told me that Jett is still here, in my house, his home, and that only Jenny (my other dog) can see his presence. That was a helpful and welcome comment.

But then she started in on how my dogs must be picking up something from the boarding kennel where the dogs stay when I travel, telling me that all my dogs have died after being boarded. I told her that was not true. Only Bailey died shortly after boarding. Bailey was 11 years old. Layla died of cancer at age 12. Benny died at age 12 after struggling with an unknown health issue for a couple of years. Jenny has spent a lot more time in boarding than Jett did, and she is fine. Jett spent only 2 -3 weeks in boarding; his most recent stay was less than 2 days.

I told her I will wait for the results of the necropsy before making any claims.

She's a wonderful friend, but I don't need speculation about such things. I don't need suggestions about what might have happened, or about how the veterinarian who treated Jett (not our regular veterinarian, but at the same animal hospital) must not know what she is doing.

What people in my situation need are supportive words. They need to know that we need support and an acknowledgement of our loss and our grief. Everybody grieves differently. Grief lasts different lengths of time. Getting through grief takes as long as it takes.

Talking about the deceased animal won't make the person sad; they are already mourning the loss. Let them talk about their cat, dog or horse. Share funny stories about the animal.

Send an e-mail or a text message, or call, and ask if the person needs anything, or needs a ride somewhere. In my case, I don't feel up to a phone call unless it's a family member. I am tired of telling the story about what happened before and when Jett died. When previous dogs have died, I appreciated receiving a sympathy card or other acknowledgement of my loss. I don't know what happened, so please don't speculate or offer suggestions unless you are a veterinarian.

As an avid photographer, I have a lot of photos of Jett. I'm having prints made of my favorites, and I will make a wall calendar to hang in my office. He will not be forgotten. Ever.

I felt, and still feel, like I have been kicked in the stomach. There is guilt that I was unable to prevent Jett's death, although deep inside I feel as if I did everything I could to prevent it. I feel guilty that I didn't spend more time with him, or give him more attention (he was a very needy dog), or show him more patience.

But deep down inside, I know that I gave him a wonderful home, with a canine friend he loved, and that he knew, for the first time in his life, that he was loved.

Grief

When my two year old golden retriever died very unexpectedly at home Thursday evening, I was stunned. I was shocked. I was in total disbelief. 

A friend came over and gently wrapped Jett’s body in a blanket. I looked at him, and expected him to look up at me, or to wag his tail, or to do something. I was in disbelief.

I had a few tears in my eyes, but I held myself together until I went to bed that evening. And then the tears started, but I wasn’t sobbing, and I wasn’t crying very hard. I think I was numb, and some gentle tears were all I could manage. Since then, I have cried more gentle tears a few times as I went through my days in a fog. 

I was in such a fog that I cut up my credit card by mistake, thinking it was my old debit card that had just been replaced. I forgot to take my prescription eyedrops, which I have used twice every day for several years. I don’t remember things. I forget what day of the week it is. And now, I find that the smallest things make me cry.

My other dog, a three year old mixed breed named Jenny, loved Jett from the moment she met him. They had so much fun together, wrestling and chasing each other through the backyard. I laughed when he ran behind a large hedge, emerging through the hedge to resume his race around the yard. 

I often called him doofus, because of his silly antics. I know Jenny misses her buddy, because she has been growling and staring at my front door much of today. She used to growl when Jett would walk down the hallway from my bedroom to the living room. I don’t know why she growled, and she wasn’t aggressive. But her behavior today makes me think he is here, and only Jenny can see him. I friend, who made it possible for me to rescue Jett from a life of neglect, told me that "Of course Jett is there in your house." That was his home. I may not have shed a lot of tears so far, but I had to hurry to the bathroom last night to throw up.

Jett is the 15th dog I have adopted, and the only one to die so unexpectedly and so young.

I realized a couple of things in the two days since Jett died. The first I already knew, and that is the importance of having good photographs of my dogs. I am an avid hobby photographer, so I take a lot of pictures. Those are so meaningful when one of my dogs dies. I’m lucky to have a really nice headshot of Jett, which I will have printed. 

The other thing I realized is that grief takes a variety of forms and intensities. Grief can be like a volcano, loud and explosive. Or it can be like smoldering embers, just waiting to catch fire. My grief is the latter.

Grief also moves at different speeds. My grief at losing Jett did not take the form of overwhelming tears and sadness. Instead, it is there, just below the surface, eating at me. I know the tears will really flow when I retrieve his ashes and when I place his remains with the cedar boxes and other containers that hold the remains of other dogs who have left me. 

How I wish our dogs had longer lives. 

So no matter the age of your dog, make sure he or she has a wonderful life filled with love. We never know when they will be snatched from us without warning.

Remembering Jett

Jett was a quick learner, aside from resisting to heel during our daily walks. He knew were he was supposed to be, but he always wanted to walk about half a body length ahead of where he should be. But he knew where he was supposed to be, because if I stopped walking, he quickly backed up and got in a perfect heel position next to my leg.

He was a happy boy who very quickly came to love me and my other dog, 3-year-old Jenny. And Jenny, who doesn't much care for other dogs, loved Jett from the moment they met.

Jett loved meeting up with his friend Ralphie, a medium-size black dog we would sometimes see during our daily walk. He loved meeting Ralphie. His other canine friend was an 8-year-old yellow Labrador retriever named Aspen.

I used to call Jett ‘nosy Ned’, as he loved to stand on his back legs and look over the back yard walls to see what the neighbors were up to.

Jett could never, ever, get enough attention. He was the personification of a Velcro dog. He never got a lot of attention during the first 16 months of his life, and he spent his time with me trying to make up for the lack. 

He loved his morning walks, driving me a bit crazy sometimes if I didn't get ready quickly enough to suit him. He would pant. He would pace. He would whine. He would run in small circles.

Jett didn't know the meaning of personal space. He followed me everywhere, even when I was sitting on the toilet. He would come in and sit very close to me until I told him to back off a little bit and give me some space. He was usually stretched out on the bathroom floor just outside my shower, so he could keep an eye on me and make sure there wasn’t a secret exit in the shower.

Jett was an extremely gorgeous blond golden retriever. He had the softest, silkiest ears of any dog I’ve ever known. He was my seventh golden, and none of them ever received the complements he did as we would walk through the neighborhood. One woman driving by actually stopped her car, rolled down the window, and told me what a gorgeous dog he was.

Jett died at home last evening. A good friend came over, and she took an old blanket I had and wrapped him carefully and gently just where he lay. It may sound strange, but after I kissed his head, as I did every day, I left a light on for him in the living room all night. This morning, as I took my other dog for her daily walk, I left the radio on for Jett, as I did every day. He didn’t really like being left alone. 

My friend came over again this morning, and together we struggled to get my 62 pound dog from my living room into the back of my car. It was not an easy task, but working together, we got him loaded in the back of my little SUV. I commented that if this weren’t such a sad and tragic situation, it might be funny to onlookers to see two elderly women struggling to get a body wrapped in a white blanket into the back of a car.

My plan, my hope, was to give Jett a lifetime of love and companionship for many years to come. Sadly, I won’t get that chance now. I hope he knew how loved he was.

It Isn't Fair

It just isn't fair.

Many things in life aren't fair. But something happened last evening that really brought home the unfairness to me in a very personal way.

My 2-year-old golden retriever, named Jett, died. He was diagnosed just two days ago with an autoimmune disease called masticatory muscle myositis. In simple terms, this means his body was attacking the muscles of his jaws.

MMM is not common, and none of my golden retriever-loving friends had ever heard of it. And as with so many other health issues that plague goldens, goldens are among the breeds more frequently afflicted. Still, MMM isn't common.

Jett was seen by a veterinarian on Tuesday and again yesterday. He was prescribed steroids to reduce pain and inflammation, and gabapentin to help with pain. Something happened, and Jett acted drunk. And then he died. I hope a necropsy will provide some answers.

Jett was young, and he had joined my family less than a year ago. So needless to say, this all came as a real shock.

What struck me as so unfair was the fact he was so young when he died. It was unfair. It was unfair that after a life of neglect, he found love and stability with me, only to have everything go horribly wrong. It was unfair that he never got a chance to really live. 

What else was so unfair was that my dog Jenny, not a fan of most dogs, loved Jett from the moment they met. 

It was unfair that golden retrievers, the most wonderful breed in the world, are beset by so many health issues. These intelligent, beautiful, loving dogs, once referred to by a man with whom I used to work as 'America's dog,' typically live only to the age of 10. Only one of my six golden retrievers made it to 15 years old.

It isn't fair that Jett was finally with someone who not only loved him, but who also had the desire and the financial resources to provide medical care for him. And it is so unfair, that despite that advantage, he died.

It isn't fair that my other dog, Jenny, has been deprived of a friend she loved and with whom she loved to play and chase. It isn't fair that this big blond boy was taken so soon.

And it isn't fair that I have lost a sweet, loving dog who used to put his head on the side of my bed every morning for his daily ear rub and kiss on the head.

That was our daily early morning routine. It isn’t fair that I will forever be deprived of this gentle early morning tradition.

How's the Weather?

 I follow a couple of therapy dogs online, and today's post made me think.

"What's the weather like inside you?" was the topic.

We hear a lot about the weather -- extreme heat, floods, drought, tornadoes -- but there isn't anything we can do about it. And as climate change continues to worsen, the weather will become even more extreme. We humans, who think we are all-powerful, are unable to do no more with the weather than warn of upcoming weather threats.

But the weather inside us? That's something we can control. We have the power to minimize or remove angry storm clouds. We can minimize the amount of rain (tears) that falls. We can control how we react to the weather inside us. We have a choice: we can either give in to the turbulent, stormy weather, or we can push it away in favor of calmer, more placid weather.

Unlike our world's bad weather, which will eventually go away and turn into something else (sunshine after a rainstorm, for example), our internal weather likes to hold on for a very long time -- unless we do something to send it away.

This is something I, like most people, have struggled with. Remaining very angry at someone who hurt me badly didn't hurt him. But the storm inside did hurt me, until I let it go.

So let's work on looking forward to a brighter, sunnier forecast, regardless of the weather Mother Nature throws at us.

Out of Warranty

I recently saw a meme on Facebook supposedly from an old, out-of-style refrigerator. 

The refrigerator was telling the people to whom it belonged that it would still be going strong long after the people had passed on.

That reminded me of the old refrigerator my parents used to have. It was their only refrigerator for many years. It didn't hold a lot, and it had a very small freezer section that had to be defrosted manually. When my parents got a bigger, more modern, self-defrosting refrigerator, the old one was moved to the basement, where it was used to keep soft drinks and beer cold.

This made me think about how durable appliances used to be, and how poorly made they are today. A few months ago I had to have work done on the freezer section of my 14-year-old refrigerator, which stopped freezing. I was grateful to find a repair man who came to the house the same day, quickly identified the problem, and returned the next day with the replacement part. 

I replaced a 16-year-old clothes dryer that stopped working. I figured that even if I could get parts for it, the cost of parts and labor to repair the unit would be close to the cost of a new one.

Things are not as well made as they used to be, in the era when appliances were repaired rather than being taken to the dump. Let's face it: we live in a disposable society.

A couple of years after I moved into my current house, the well pump died. It cost $2,500 to have it replaced. When I asked what the warranty was on the new one, I was told it was only 1 year. (Each house in my part of town has its own well and septic system). Luckily it still works some 12 years later.

I figure I am a lot like that old refrigerator: small, showing my age, but still working. I may not be as efficient or as good-looking as I used to be, and the warranty has likely expired, but I still have all of my original parts and I'm still working!