My good friend’s dog passed away last week. It hurt to think about her dying suddenly. And the pain my friends felt losing such an important part of their family. It made me cry immediately. Even reading an Instagram post of someone I’ve never met posting a photo and tribute to their dog’s memory brings me to tears. Because I know what that feels like. Many times over.
I don’t cry often, but the thought of Miley and Jill passing away instantly brings me to tears. I see photos of them in my Google Photos and Facebook Memories almost every day. I’m so glad I took all those photos and videos of them. I loved them so much. I like being able to see the photos and remember them.
Jill’s death was really shocking to me and didn’t even seem like it could be real. We loved her so much. Mary and I were nearly infatuated with her. The sight of her at the front door when I got to the Ranch would make my heart sink. She had the sweetest face. Soft fur. I miss holding her big white paws. The warmth of her laying next to me or on top of me. The way she had no sense of boundaries or personal space. She’d crawl right on top of you any time you’d eat something on the couch. She was insatiable.
I love the way she turned her head when she’d hear a wrapper or a plate. I love when she’d notice you calling her in the backyard and she’d come barreling toward you. She was always so calm and sweet. I’ve never seen her aggressive towards anyone, ever. I miss the little slit in her ear. And the way her fur would slide back and forth over her fat back when you’d pet her. Heaven was missing an angel and now it has her back.
Miley was .........hard. She was the best, most loyal and well-behaved dog we’d ever had. The Hawk rescued her from the shelter and she brought so much joy to all of our lives. She was smart, sweet, and always hungry. I loved seeing her and Jill together. I loved taking her for walks, especially when she got so overweight. She could go off the leash and would always stop for you. Except that one time she took off after a deer. I searched for her for an hour and it was getting dark. By the time I walked back to the Ranch, she was sitting on the front step waiting for me.
I loved how affectionate she was and how she’d always follow my mom around. She’d lay right next to her chair. Or wait outside the bathroom for her. I liked it best when my mom wasn’t there so that she could follow me around. She only lived with me and Centrome for about 6 months. And she had to sleep in our room with us. Always needed to be near people. Not everyone appreciated her big appetite. Oh, the things she ate without permission. Bags of bread off the counter. Leftover sushi. A family sized bag of mint chocolate Kisses. A pan of taco meat off the stove. The list goes on and on. She loved to eat.Â
When she got older and sick the hardest thing was seeing her lose weight and get weaker. We knew it was bad when she stopped wanting to eat all the time. My mom would call so upset. Trying to hand feed her whatever she could - chicken, rice, bread. She didn’t like her kidney diet. I would lay next to her dog bed on the floor and beg her to eat just a little piece of chicken. Or a hamburger I picked up for her. Hoping it would remind her of joy rides in the drive-thru with the Hawk.Â
I still remember everything about the day she died. Getting the call at work from my mom crying. I had to leave the office to help her get inside from the backyard. It was raining and she couldn’t make her way up the deck stairs. My mom couldn’t get out to her. I helped her inside and back to her bed. Dried her off and laid down with her. There was no chance she would eat. Her back legs were too weak. She couldn’t get up on her own anymore. She still tried to follow my mom, but couldn’t.Â
Bella would bark at her and try to get her up to go outside together. She’d sit next to her and Miley would ignore her. It hurts my heart to think of how she must have felt. We knew it was time and that we needed to take her to the vet. Mary and I had to talk my mom into it. She didn’t want to make the decision herself. It was too hard. We called the vet and they said to bring her in. We only had a few hours left with her. It was almost too much time to let her continue on and suffer, but not enough time left with her before it was the end.Â
I lifted Miley in the scratchy green and white blanket from my Grandma onto my mom’s lap. And my mom held her and cried. I hated that Miley didn’t know what was going on. Where we were going to take her. Why everyone was so upset. Mary held the front door open for me and I walked down the front steps, holding Miley tight in my arms in that green and white blanket. I sat with her in the backseat and pet her. Wrapped up, you couldn’t even tell she was sick. It was like a drive anywhere, except this time she wasn’t trying to stick her head out the window or climb into the front seat. She was going on the last car ride she’d ever take. In a silver Saturn.
The drive to the vet was too short. It was only just around the corner. We were there in minutes. I didn’t want to go inside, but it was almost closing time and they were gracious enough to see us after hours. We walked in and I got her on the scale. It was shocking to see how much weight she had lost. We knew we were right to bring her there. I gave them my credit card and filled out the paperwork. I picked out the urn with her name engraved.Â
Mary and I were in the small room with her. She laid on the table, on top of the blanket. She didn’t know why she was there, but she was calm. There was a Boston Terrier wearing glasses hanging in a frame on the wall. We cried and pet her. And hugged her. They checked her vitals and shaved the spot for the injection. I kneeled on the tile floor and my knees were throbbing as the minutes went by. I passed tissues to Mary. They gave her a shot and said that we could take all the time we needed with her.Â
We waited for it to end. For her eyes to close. We told her how much we loved her. Minutes passed. It must have been ten or more minutes. We didn’t know why she was still awake and looking at us. I felt so bad that it was taking this long. The Vet stopped in to see how we were doing. We told him that she was still alive. He apologized and said that that wasn’t the shot to euthanize her.
He explained the process and how her heart would stop. It was so hard to know that it was coming. The finality of all of it. We held onto her. I thought her eyes would slowly close and she would fall asleep. That’s not what happened.Â
The vet injected the syringe and she croaked backward in a split second like she was in pain. Stiffening into Mary’s arms. We all went to hold her, reacting as if to try and help her. And then she was gone. We were sobbing and saying we were sorry. The Vet said that her reaction meant that things were far worse than we even knew. It made me feel awful to think of all the pain she was holding inside.Â
We took time to collect ourselves. And then we walked out, crying. Saying thank you to the staff for their kindness. Going home with one less soul in the car. To tell our mom she was gone and at peace now.Â
Seeing Miley’s reaction really stayed with me. I would think about her every night in bed before I fell asleep for weeks and I would cry. It was startling and traumatic to see someone you love so much take their last breath.
It reminded me of when The Hawk died. Seeing his head tilt back and his mouth open. That last croak and last breath. And then he was just a shell of himself. A body in a hospital bed to be taken to the morgue.Â
Grieving is a hard thing. Everyone does it in their own way and in their own time. I still grieve my dogs. And my dad. And the special bond that we all had with each other.Â
I really hope they’re all together now. Happy and healthy. I hope I get to see them again, too. Miley’s urn is next to Jill’s now, in the corner of the living room. Where the Hawk used to sit in his recliner, watching TV and drinking milk.
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