Grief Day 499

Grief Day 499

I read a post at 3am from a woman whose dog is really sick. She was questioning whether or not it was a good idea to visit him while he’s being hospitalized. I knew immediately what I wanted to tell her.


But, I didn’t want to scare her. That’s my own guilt talking, and I knew it immediately.

I am hoping he recovers because he is a special one-of-a-kind dog. I remember when he came into rescue, I was so so in love with him. I imagined adopting him. He was quirky and reserved, a redhead of course. He was totally my type. I’ve never met him in person but I love this dog.

So, there I was in bed, with this tightness filling my chest and it brings it all back. How I wish so much that I had been with him. Why didn’t I ask to see him? I remember thinking about it but then assumed it was a bad idea. I was worried it would get him upset or excited and that he would die.

But he died anyway.

It didn’t matter. He died alone while I was sitting in my car making plans to take him home.

But we didn’t take him home. Instead, my last moments with my sweet boy were sitting on the floor in the waiting room while he laid on the bench beside me, barely able to breathe. They whisked him away and I never saw him alive again.<

But he was alive for a few more hours. They drained the blood from his heart and he was alert and doing better.

I would tell myself to go be with him if I could do it again. I would soak up every single moment…good or bad. I would kiss his little paws and squish his head. I would tell him how much I loved him and how very brave he was.

But I thought we had time.

Remembering You

Remembering You

Dear Doodles,

You left me a year ago yesterday. I couldn’t talk or write about it. I thought about it all day.

You were having breakfast at this time last year.

We were playing now.

I was working and you were sleeping on the couch.

We were rushing you to our vet.

Dad was driving us to the specialist, while I held you in my arms.

They whisked you away and I never saw you alive again.

Even today, when I think of you, there is a tightness in my chest and I can’t breathe. Followed by an ache inside of my body that is indescribable.

The pain is just as fresh today as it was a year ago, but it doesn’t seem to consume me as often. I was really sick a few weeks ago and I remember, day 7 or 8 of what felt like slowly dying, laying in bed and crying when I realized that it had been days since I had thought about you.

It’s quite normal for me to catch myself thinking of what you’d do about some new situation (the new guy on the block walking his cute little pugs 8 times a day) or how our pack has changed because you aren’t here and how you’d change things if you were.

It’s not all sad thoughts but even the happy thoughts make me sad some days. And some days they make me so grateful we had the chance to love your precious little soul.


You are missed and loved so very much my sweet boy. My only regret is that we didn’t have more time together. No amount would have been enough.



Dog Patella Surgery: 12 weeks

Dog Patella Surgery: 12 weeks

It’s been 12 weeks since Bionic Frosty.

The first few days were really rough. He was in pain and highly uncomfortable but I was a mess.

He was freaking amazing and hopped around, did his business and just wanted to snuggle.

The progress he made was quick and by day 3 he was already putting weight on his leg.  We went in for 6 rounds of cold laser therapy followed by a lot of physical therapy.

By 7 weeks post-op he was ready to go. And go! And never stop again. This was probably the hardest part for him. He was feeling great and it seemed like it was hard for him to understand why he had to be in the crate and why we carried him up and down the stairs and why the hell couldn’t he fetch the dog damn ball already lady.

It’s not like you can tell them. You just have to do what is best for them and if that isn’t fucking hard when all you want to do is make them happy. He’s my heart and to see him so down and depressed made me hurt. I know he’s a dog, I know. But don’t tell me I can’t feel what I do about my dog because I do and my feelings aren’t wrong dammit!

Somewhere during this time we decided to make the stupidest decision and adopt a puppy. That kept Frosty on his toes and it might have actually helped him perk up a bit more because “WHERE IS THE PUPPY? I CAN NOT NOT SEE THE PUPPY FOR ONE SINGLE SECOND!”

It helped that she was so freaking adorable.

So the weeks went on, until finally today.

Today is the day Frosty is all clear and gets to go back to his favorite thing in life.


The boy is obsessed and taking this break only made the obsession that much stronger.

Being able to do THIS again, made it all worth it.

A life without his ball would be no life at all.

Bionic Frosty

I dropped Frosty off at the vet a little while ago.  Today he’s getting surgery for an ACL injury plus Patella Luxation.

That basically means a whole lot of torture is in store for him over the next few months because he’s not going to be able to play, or run, or have much fun.  He’s been on crate for over a month already and it’s hard on him.

It’s also hard on me. Maybe more so.

“Though she be but little, she is fierce!”

“Though she be but little, she is fierce!”

One month ago, this sweet gentle and precious little girl named Ava Belle came to live with us as our new foster dog.

She is really a little thing, weighing only 13 pounds. She fits right in, size wise with Dew and Frosty. The vet estimated her to be no more than 2 years old. She is also completely deaf and mostly blind — she can see light and some shadows, but for the most part she can’t see at all.

When she arrived, having never had a special needs dog, I was pretty scared. Then I realized, more than scared, I was really angry.

What sort of low life drops off a deaf/blind dog in a shelter? What sort of asshole breeds merles together with the likelihood of 25% of the puppies being blind, deaf or both? How do they even sleep at night?

I was angry for Ava. What a cruel fate for such a precious soul.

It wasn’t fair.

She deserved better.

I quickly learned though, that she is the most amazing and resilient dog…neither upset nor bothered by her circumstances.

She lives completely in the moment.

I could learn a lot from her…we all can.

As far as she knows, we are all the same, in every way. She isn’t different. She is exactly the same as every other dog she meets.

She loves people.

She loves cuddles.

She loves cookies.

She loves running around in the yard.

She loves meeting other dogs.

She loves hanging with her people.

She is smart, and vibrant, and happy, and so full of life.

Her forever home is going to be with a very special family. One that will hold her dear and never betray her, for she loves and trusts with her whole heart.

For now…she is ours and we are hers.

Every day I am thankful for her. She reminds me to be patient, to trust myself and others, to love unconditional. And most of all, to let go of fear…because what’s the worst that can happen? You run into a pole, bounce off and keep on going.