![[dr. bob]](/dr-bob-sm.gif)
Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 21 of 21. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 10:34:42
The love of my life was a 2 3/4 pound little dog. I used to call her my happiness because whenever I saw her, a bubble of happiness would rise in my stomach and bring a smile to my face. She adored me and I adored her right back. Everywhere I went she was at my heels. I used to lean on the door and wait whenever I was going to close a door, because I knew she would be scootching through any second. She was pure energy. And all positive loving energy at that. She was a delight to my rather more serious soul. She insisted on sleeping on the small of my back, and I learned how to sleep on my stomach, without moving. I can still close my eyes and see that dog down to the tiniest freckle. I can feel how she felt in my hand.
In the summer of 1987 we got up one morning as usual. She stood to my side ready to be lifted off the bed and I swung my legs off to sit. My leg knocked her off the bed. She had fallen off the bed a million times. One of my dogs even enjoyed giving her a little push (oops) from time to time. So I swooped down laughing to scoop her up and sympathize. But before I got to her, I realized that this time was different. She laid motionless where she fell. I picked her up screaming and ran through the house calling for my mother to come drive us to the vet and for my father to call to say we were on the way. I continued screaming right out to the car, neighbors popping their heads out to see what was wrong. I didn't put on shoes or change out of my sleeping tee. We sped to the vets. But I knew when she lost bladder control that she was gone. We met the vet on his way to work and flagged him over. He must have seen she was dead. He told us to continue to the hospital where he took her briefly then returned her to us. I was in shock. I was cold and shaking. I held her while we went home and changed and drove to the crematorium, and I refused to leave while they cremated her.
After this, I slid into the second major depression of my life. Suicide was a subthread of at least a year. My happiness was gone and I had killed her.
Three years later, in the spring of 1990, Harry was born. He wasn't my darling, but he made me smile again. He brought a measure of happiness back to me. We were inseperable. We trained in obedience, although I never wanted to risk him by entering him in shows. When I married, things changed a bit. My husband isn't really a dog person, although he married me knowing I have always had a houseful of dogs. Things changed a lot more when my son was born, especially when he began to crawl. My husband was positive that the dogs were dirty and would be harmful to my son. Like the drip of water on rock, some of his attitude affected my own. Harry and I weren't as close as we were. A while ago (I'm lousy at time) I insisted that that needed to change no matter what and my husband backed down (my son was older by then too). But I so regret those years, not only for Harry's sake, but for my own. I missed out on years of the love and happiness he so freely gave.
Now Harry has cancer. It's possible that they got it all when they removed the tumor, but from the pathology report it's not likely. After talking to people who had chemo done on their pets and a couple vets I know from my dog life, and looking up phrases in the pathology report, I have decided not to do chemo. His sarcoma was so poorly differentiated that they couldn't identify it for sure. But there best guess is a very aggressive cancer that doesn't respond well to chemotherapy or radiation. Estimates for his life expectancy range from less than a month to three months. Unless they got all of it when they removed the tumor.
I'm loving him all I can. I got him a baby sling so that I can carry him around when I work when he wants to cuddle (which is most of the time). He's getting fed special food. I'm determined his remaining time will be wonderful.
But I am not taking this at all well. If my dissociative fog lifts, I'm overwhelmed by agitation and self injury urges. At my more vulnerable times, as I fall to sleep and as I wake up, I want to hurt myself. I know that the pain I'm feeling now is mixing in with my earlier loss. I just can't stand going through that again. I really can't. I just don't know what to do...
Posted by Penny on September 24, 2003, at 10:59:02
In reply to The loss of dogs (long), posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 10:34:42
Oh Dinah.
((((Dinah))))
(((and Harry))))
I wish I knew what to say to make this easier for you. I'm sitting here in tears at my computer, thinking of you and your little dog that you lost, and your Harry that you will lose and wishing that things could be different. And I'm thinking of my Jake who was so sick before he died and who I left at home with my parents when I went to college, and of my two girls who are the light of my life and who have kept me alive so many times when I really wanted to be dead. And I feel your pain, Dinah. I really do.
Know that the little dog you lost lived a good life. That she was happy right up to the very last and that she didn't suffer. Know that Harry has also lived a good life and that you are doing everything that is right for him. That you are caring for him the best you possibly can.
And know that you have to care for yourself as well. I can't tell you how, as I'm not very good at it myself. And I can't really give you words of comfort right now as I'm exhausted myself and drained of whatever comfort I might have to give - but I do hope that you can find something - *something* - to keep you going right now, Dinah. Something to get you through this.
I'm afraid I'm saying all the wrong things, and for that I apologize. I just want to let you know that I am thinking of you and Harry and I'll continue to keep you in my thoughts every time I hug my precious ones.
Please take care.
(((Dinah & Harry)))
P
Posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 12:32:18
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » Dinah, posted by Penny on September 24, 2003, at 10:59:02
Thank you, Penny. I'm sorry you aren't feeling well right now either. Yes, my little darling had the most wonderful life a dog could have, loving and being loved. And most of Harry's life has been pretty terrific as well.
I just got a bit of hope that will make it easier for me to go through this. My vet, when I told him I didn't think chemo was the right choice, suggested anti-angiogenesis drugs. They slow the growth and spread of cancer by keeping blood vessels from proliferating. It sounds like a much gentler treatment than chemo, with about as much chance of prolonging his life in his particular type of cancer. That newish breast cancer treatment is an anti-angiogenesis drug. As long as I feel like I'm doing all I can, I know I'll feel better. And at least put off these awful feelings that I know are about both dogs.
I hope you feel better soon, Penny. Give your dogs a great big hug.
Thanks,
Dinah
Posted by rayww on September 24, 2003, at 12:35:17
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » Dinah, posted by Penny on September 24, 2003, at 10:59:02
I was thinking about my doggy loss this morning too, and then I came here and read about yours. Your entry brings back deep memories.
On another grief site, people who lose loved ones get upset when grief over a pet is mentioned. This is a good web site. Loss of a pet can trigger depression and that trigger can last a long time. Sometimes we feel a deeper emotion toward our pets that to our people, but when we lose a person, it all comes into perspective. Pet emotion is still emotion and it helps us with people emotion. We learn how to feel by feeling. Simple as that.
I'm feeling emotional today in my old grief for people and pets. Maybe now that it has been shared, it will ease. I'm glad you told us about your dog Dinah. I accidentally killed mine too.
Posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 13:07:07
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long), posted by rayww on September 24, 2003, at 12:35:17
It's hard to think of my little blessing as being a dog, except in the very best sense of the word. :)
I'm sorry to hear about your dog. How did the accident happen, if you don't mind talking about it?
Posted by Tabitha on September 24, 2003, at 14:01:51
In reply to The loss of dogs (long), posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 10:34:42
I'm so sorry Dinah. I hope the treatment helps Harry. It's great that you've had such loving relationships with your pets.
Posted by Susan J on September 24, 2003, at 14:23:06
In reply to The loss of dogs (long), posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 10:34:42
Dinah,
I'm soooooo sorry the pain you are going through. I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, but I don't.
I volunteer (more off than on recently) with an animal rescue group in Maryland. They have a pet loss seminar every month. I'm including their ad by the slim chance you live anywhere near me. Otherwise, perhaps there is a similar program or group near you:
Our pet loss support group meets every second Tuesday of the month from 8 pm - 9 pm at the Aspin Park Memorial Park, Silver Spring, Md. This group provides a safe and comforting environment for individuals who are grieving the loss of a pet or preparing for the death of their companion animal.
Location: Aspin Park Memorial Park, 13630 Georgia Avenue, at the corner of Aspen Hill Road and Georgia Avenue.
PRE-REGISTRATION REQUIRED. A donation of $10 per meeting is invited to benefit both PAW and the Chesapeake Wildlife Sanctuary. Please call 301-871-6700 for information, to pre-register, or to volunteer with this program.
You and Harry are in my prayers.
Susan
Posted by Dena on September 24, 2003, at 17:38:17
In reply to Pet Loss Seminars » Dinah, posted by Susan J on September 24, 2003, at 14:23:06
Dinah -
You & Harry will be in my prayers, too.
I understand that regret that comes with not loving a pet as best as we can (for whatever reason. I feel the same way about Sierra. And I've had other pets that I didn't give the love & attention that they deserved. I hope you can forgive yourself. The wonderful thing about dogs is that they give unconditional love, regardless of the neglect they may receive. I'm sure that Harry never stopped loving you, & that he forgives you too.
Shalom, Dena
Posted by Dena on September 24, 2003, at 17:40:16
In reply to Pet Loss Seminars » Dinah, posted by Susan J on September 24, 2003, at 14:23:06
Susan -
Wow - I know about PAWS, too. We adopted one of our dogs from them several years ago.
You must live near me... I'm in Fairfax, Virginia. Are we neighbors? I promise not to stalk... ; )
Shalom, Dena
Posted by rayww on September 24, 2003, at 18:33:09
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » rayww, posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 13:07:07
I'm going to tell you about it because it sent me spiraling into deep grief pits this morning, and I entered areas I wish I hadn't. I got thinking about my dad too, so grief is grief and it roots around. Grief is an interesting fellow. Even when grief is healthy and mature, it can still attack.
I was sitting around a family dinner table one day with a bunch of teens, who somehow got on the topic of "my favorite gross dead dog story". I listened as long as I was able, and then said, "OK, let me tell you my dead dog story".
Up north the flies can get really bad in late summer, so I go to great lengths to control them. (die fly!!) I had a fly trap outside my back basement door, a mixture of watermellon and fly bait. Somehow on one of my dear Fergie's walk-abouts she reached the bucket. An hour or so later I noticed I hadn't seen her in the yard, and I immediately suspected what had happened. Sure enough, to my horror, there she was, sprawled out on the cement pad at the bottom of the stairs.
The family was all around, and I didn't want the little ones to know, so I got a gunny sack and tried to put her in it. I went inside and asked my son to help me, but for some reason he didn't come right then and I wanted it taken care of immediately. My way of dealing with grief I guess. Bag it up and throw it away. She was so heavy, but I got her into the bag, and then I didn't know what to do with her, so I decided to take her to our house cemetery, the hole in the ground where we dumped the remains of our house after the housefire a couple of years earlier.
That was the end of the dead dog stories around the dinner table. Forever I bet.
I tried to replace her, but the new Basset wasn't able to breed like Fergie. I eventually sold her and my male. A fine specimen he was too. I still really miss them both. I was able to let go, not like my sister who dropped her kitty off at the animal shelter only to go back a few minutes later and pay $10.00 to take it home again.
I'm feeling all right now tonight. I frittered away much of my day, but I did visit my grandson with a birthday gift, and got the bills paid right in the nick of time before the mail was picked up. Thanks for asking. I really wasn't going to tell this "gross" story of how I poisoned my beloved Fergie.
I don't use that fly bait any more. I didn't know it was potent enough to kill a dog, and with all my little grandbabies around, I have stopped being so careless now.
Posted by Dena on September 24, 2003, at 22:31:21
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » Dinah, posted by rayww on September 24, 2003, at 18:33:09
To All fellow dog-lovers -
Both of your stories of your dogs saddened me, Dinah & Ray. They made me think of a dog whose death I was responsible for. I want to tell her story.
When we got married, I got pregnant within the first six months (even on the pill), & I panicked - I didn't know how to nurture! I set my mind on getting a puppy so I could practice before the baby arrived. We settled on a Golden Retriever, & soon found Brandy. I quickly discovered that crate-training & house-breaking had nothing at all to do with raising my infant son, but she did build up my confidence in taking care of something that was dependent on me. We had 13 years with her - each of my children learned to stand up by grabbing her fur & pulling themselves upright; she just licked them good-naturedly. At the ripe old age of 12 she developed leg cancer, & the doctor told us that the cure was worse than the disease at her age. The poor thing could hardly walk. We took her to church & our priest & the entire congregation came out into the parking lot to pray for her. The next morning, she was fine! She not only walked, but ran around the yard like a puppy! For 10 months she was pain-free, but then she relapsed & quickly went downhill. When her suffering was too great we had her put to sleep.
Several months later, I heard of a dog, a labrador-Golden retriever mix (looked like a black Golden w/ long black fur) who was going to be euthanized if she wasn't adopted by the next morning. We loaded the entire family into our van & drove three hours to go rescue her. Her name was Casey. She romped & played with our children in the yard, & then sat next to my husband, leaning on his legs, looking up into his eyes. He was smitten. She became our dog. She had heartworms, but we managed to keep her quiet during the 6 week treatment (it was hard with 7 lively children enticing her to play!). What a great dog! So loving, so gentle, so loyal. She would sneak all 80 lbs of herself into my husband's lap, one inch at a time, until she was on top of him, looking so proud & possessive. My husband was dealing with a serious illness at this time, & Casey would lie right next to him & wouldn't budge.
But we had a problem. She came from farm country, & she loved to run. We live in the suburbs, 50 yard from a very busy highway. We put up a 6 foot fence & worked on retraining her.
One day, we all went to an amusement park for the day. We put Casey (along with our other dog) into the fenced yard because it was such a beautiful day. We gave them plenty of water & took off. I returned first, since I had a meeting to attend that night - my husband & children stayed at the park until it closed. I had just enough time at home to quickly shower & grab some dinner. I heard the dogs barking, but I knew that if I let them in, I'd have to put them in their crates while I was away (& they hate that). It was still light outside, & I knew my family would be home in a couple of hours - I figured that they'd be better off outdoors.
I drove off to my meeting, not knowing that Casey managed to pull the chain-link fence away from the side of the house & get out. She saw me drive away, toward the highway, & followed me in hot pursuit (I had no idea - I didn't see her).
Only when I returned home, hours later, did I find out what had happened.
When my family drove home, down that highway, they saw (in the dark), a large black shape on the side of the road - my husband figured it was a deer. Upon getting home, they couldn't find Casey (the other dog obediently stayed in the fence). My son, Joshua, then 14, walked up the hill toward the highway, looking for Casey, & he found her lifeless body, lying on the side of the road. She'd been hit in the head - I pray she died instantaneously. My husband carried her body back home & put her in the back of the truck (don't know why - it was just his first response to the shock). I walked into the house, & right away knew something was wrong. My husband blurted out, "Casey is dead. You left her outside & she's dead!" I ran out to the truck & just petted her. She was so hard & cold & still. I couldn't believe it. The guilt & grief overwhelmed me. I can count on both hands the number of times I've sobbed in my life. This was one of them. My husband came out & held me, & asked my forgiveness for blalming me. But I was to blame. I'd heard a still, small voice in my head telling me to check on the dogs, to let them in, but I ignored it in my hurry to get to that meeting.
The next morning, we wrapped her in our bedspread & buried her in our back yard, not far from Brandy (along with several pet rats & ferrets).
To this day, when I look at her photo, I feel a stab in my heart.
It's amazing the bond that can form between humans & their pets. It's such a bittersweet relationship. Pets give & inspire such love, but they don't live very long. I can't imagine living without a dog.
When I was a child, life seemed so long, & I enjoyed carefree relationships with my dog. I didn't even consider her eventual & inevitable death.
Now I know better.
I have a dog that I love - Savannah, my white German shepherd. She's lying by my feet right now, with her paw on my foot. She loves me unconditionally, no matter what sort of mood I'm in, no matter whether or not I ignore her, even when I forget to feed her, or if I take a walk without her. She gets her greatest joy just being with me, & she lets me know it. She looks at me so adoringly with those warm chocolate brown eyes w/ white eyelashes... I just respond back to her w/ joy.
She's only two years old, but I can't even look at her without feeling a twinge of inevitable grief - knowing that some day she'll die too.
It hurts to love, because there will be an eventual loss, whether with people or animals.
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I think so.
Thanks for letting me meander...
Shalom, Dena
Posted by Susan J on September 25, 2003, at 9:23:30
In reply to Re: Pet Loss Seminars » Susan J, posted by Dena on September 24, 2003, at 17:40:16
Dena,
> Wow - I know about PAWS, too. We adopted one of our dogs from them several years ago.
>
> You must live near me... I'm in Fairfax, Virginia. Are we neighbors? I promise not to stalk... ; )<<That's funny! You had mentioned you were in the DC area, and I was going to ask *you* where, but didn't want you to think I was a psycho stalker or anything. I live in Maryland, near Baltimore, but my family's from Laurel (close to a lot of PAW work and stuff). So I see them in PetSmart, volunteer some, that type of thing...
Susan
Posted by Dena on September 25, 2003, at 13:51:32
In reply to Re: Pet Loss Seminars » Dena, posted by Susan J on September 25, 2003, at 9:23:30
Susan -
this is too funny! I promise not to stalk you if you promise not to stalk me...
My husband's parents live in Columbia, MD. I lived at Ft. Meade in the early 70's when my Dad was stationed there w/ the Army.
Are you 40-ish by chance? I wonder if we ran into each other at the McDonald's as kids... funny!
Shalom, Dena
Posted by Susan J on September 25, 2003, at 14:06:15
In reply to Re: Pet Loss Seminars » Susan J, posted by Dena on September 25, 2003, at 13:51:32
Dena,
>> Are you 40-ish by chance? I wonder if we ran into each other at the McDonald's as kids... funny!
<<I'm 36, but *did* hang out at McDonald's in Laurel on Route 1. Actually, in the really early 70s there were two McDonalds really close to each other. The old one was converted to a Tastee Freeze. Unless you are talking about one on base or on Route 175. I wasn't too familiar with that area as a kid.We did all our grocery shopping at the Giant in Laurel. There was a Woolworth's and a Kresgie's there. I think Kresgie's became K Mart. And I was there when George Wallace got shot in the Laurel shopping center parking lot in 1972.
We also used to go to a circus in a big muddy field that became the Laurel Mall. Before that, it was an insane asylum. :-)
Susan
>
> Shalom, Dena
Posted by Dinah on September 25, 2003, at 17:31:16
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long), posted by Dena on September 24, 2003, at 22:31:21
I am really sorry for your losses.
I happen to be reading (almost by accident) a book about falling in love with dogs. It's called "Pack of Two" by Caroline Knapp. I'm having a lot of trouble getting through it because my concentration is nil, but it very accurately describes the phenomenon.
Although I should be feeling better, I'm not somehow. I guess once something gets stirred up, not even some encouraging news can stop it.
Posted by Dinah on September 25, 2003, at 17:33:01
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long), posted by Tabitha on September 24, 2003, at 14:01:51
Thanks Tabitha. My therapist has been trying to delve into that with me. Why being loved and loving a dog are so important to me. I may just refer him to the book I was talking about "Pack of Two". It's too much for my brain to assemble right now.
Posted by Dinah on September 25, 2003, at 17:37:35
In reply to Pet Loss Seminars » Dinah, posted by Susan J on September 24, 2003, at 14:23:06
Thanks Susan.
They have them in my area too. In fact I went to the first one organized in our area, many years after my little one died. And it was good to be with people who understood how I felt, and didn't think of their friends as "just" pets. I may go again when Harry dies. But right now I am just can't manage it.
Posted by fallsfall on September 25, 2003, at 17:57:27
In reply to Re: Pet Loss Seminars » Susan J, posted by Dinah on September 25, 2003, at 17:37:35
Thinking of you and Harry. Give each of you a hug from me.
Posted by shar on September 25, 2003, at 23:37:04
In reply to The loss of dogs (long), posted by Dinah on September 24, 2003, at 10:34:42
Dinah,
The greatest grief I ever felt was the loss of my beloved canine companion Scruffles. I couldn't finish reading your post (too hard for me).I know I've posted the following several times, but I need to do it again (maybe even more for myself, who knows). I am so filled with sorrow for you. You are being a wonderful dog-mom. On the website mentioned below Scruffles' memorial can be found.
Shar
Rainbow Bridge
http://www.petloss.com/Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
P.S. From Shar, I plan on staying on this side of the Rainbow Bridge so Scruffles and I can play with all the other beloved companions forever.
Posted by Dinah on September 26, 2003, at 3:59:24
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » Dinah, posted by shar on September 25, 2003, at 23:37:04
(((Shar)))
I'm so sorry about Scruffles. I'm sure he got so much joy and love from you and your son. That's the only thing that gives me solace about my little girl, and why I'm so happy that I'm getting at least some extra time with Harry. I hope it brings you some as well.
I've bookmarked that page, and will spend some time (as I'm able to bear it) reading things from other people who have loved a pet. It's so hard that so few understand. Thanks for posting it.
By the way, if there is a hereafter, I'll see you there on the puppy side. I can't imagine a nicer place to be.
Posted by responsiblek9 on November 18, 2003, at 23:56:53
In reply to Re: The loss of dogs (long) » Tabitha, posted by Dinah on September 25, 2003, at 17:33:01
Dinah , I did explain to my therapist why the dogs were important to me. I have assistance dogs . And have for twenty years plus.
Dogs dont judge us for our social ineptitudes.
They take us for exactly what we are .
They walk with us for a time. We but take care of them for a time. Then they leave .
But in the time they give us. They give us their all!
I have had a dog die defending me from a guy who grabbed me and had a gun,I got away. She gave me the time to do so. She died there.
Her daughter was with me 13 years working as an assistance dog . 8 times she kept me from ending up dead. But she did not get to die of old age either . Some mean neighbor poisoned her with strychnine and the mother to my current service dog died in the same poisoning. So I had 4 week old pups running around motherless and me in a terrible state . One stayed with me because no one would let me sell her. She is now my retiring service dog . 8 years old been with me across the US. And three times saved me from ending up dead or severely injured .
Then I have the young guy who just finished training . But I owe the dogs a lot. They gave me my life back and my freedom. I give them all I have.
They trust and are trustworthy,
They cant really lie even when they try.
They honestly do care when we are ill
Their motives are transparent .
They love with all their souls
They truly enjoyed helping me
They cared not that I was poor , or homeless or worthless. To them I was their world.
Through them I came to see the world differently with curiousity and wonder.
And they give everything freely ( except for a few dog biscuits and attention of course!!)
This is the end of the thread.
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