Plowing On

A blog that was once dedicated to one of the best dogs in the world: Tractor the German Shepherd. Now this is a place for encouraging words for those dealing with pet loss. Hopefully his memory can live on and help others...

[an-na-ko]

Lyra, my beloved cat of 13 years, passed away this year on Father's Day. She's been by my side through very difficult times and was my little rock of steady and unrelenting love. I struggled a lot drawing this, and struggled a lot posting it, but I know I would've wanted to read a comic like this that validated my grief for her when I lost her.

Wherever you are, Lyra my little summer star, I love you always! Thank you for being the best thing in my life.

[birdhism]

Cody would have been 9 today. I miss him terribly, but I’m not going to focus on his absence, but of the joy we shared together. The same joy we can bring to birds now and into the future.

I would love if we could make November 15th Happy Bird Day in memory of Cody the Lovebird.

Spoil birds of all kinds, be it through hanging up a bird feeder, hooking your companion bird up with extra scritches, snacks, and toys, contributing to conservation, rescue, or sanctuary work; anything positive for birds. Let’s make 11/15 every bird’s birthday! 

#happybirdday

[ithelpstodream]

Amanda Jones has dedicated the past 20 years to an incredible photography project which aims to show just how fleeting the lives of our beloved pets are.

[thelizart]

Rest in peace lovely little Poncho, so many loved you and I know @yeahponcho loved you the most. I hope you are having a great time eating your favorite food and basking in the sun. 

I wish I had recorded painting this when I was working on it before. Took a while to decide whether or not to post but I think maybe it would be good to do so 

[yeahponcho]

this piece is absolutely incredible, and it really warms my heart because this is exactly where I want her to be right now. in a vast grand field of clover with all the flowers she wants. and hopefully my grandpa is there too, laughing as he always did when she helped herself to a flower.

I’m like trying not to full on cry while typing this. it really means a lot to me, thank you so much for taking the time to make this wonderful gift. and I think it was very good you decided to post it.

[pepperandpals]

[bitchesgetriches]

Tumblr fam, can I get this off my chest?

Kitty here! Umm, I know this is a bit unorthodox, but… Y’all Tumblr bebes are super sweet about this sort of thing, so I’m posting something here and here only.

I just got a cat.

When New Cat is named and fully acclimated, she will def join the dogs, guinea pigs, and chickens as a Tumblr/Instagram regular.

But I have…mixed feelings.

My last cat died six months ago. We didn’t get another cat to replace her–c'est impossible, she was irreplaceable. Rather, we did it because we know two things:

1. A house that’s had a cat in it will always feel empty without a cat in it.

2. We have money and space and time and patience and love, and shelters are full of cats who don’t got none of those things.

Still, I’ve been thinking about my last cat Clementine a lot. And I think it would be healing to me to share a few photos of her.

This was Clementine. We adopted her when she was 14 years old. That’s old. If she were human, she would’ve been in her early seventies. Her previous owner had moved into a nursing home. She was lucky to land in one of the few no-kill shelters with enough resources to accept a cat of her age. Many don’t.

Clementine was terribly stressed out being in the shelter after so many years in one person’s home. Her fur started to fall out, and she refused to eat. She hid all the time and hissed if approached. No one applied for her.

We saw a lot of great cats at the shelter. For some reason, she was the one my partner and I both couldn’t stop thinking about. We talked about it, and decided we had the patience, emotional maturity, and financial stability needed to address the realities of adopting a shy geriatric cat. So we took her home, and released her under the bed.

“We might never see this cat,” I told my partner. “We might just know she’s here by periodic dips in the level of the food bowl.”

“I’d be okay with that,” he said.

“I would too.”

We didn’t see her for 36 hours.

Then, I heard a little sound while I was sitting in bed–not a meow, but a chirp. I looked down, and she sitting there, looking up at me. She chirped again. I patted the blanket. She sprang up beside me and started purring. Surprised, I took this blurry, crappy photo.

Within a week, she was climbing into our laps and kneading us with rapturous abandon. Sometimes she would start to drool out of pure joy.

Now, one complication was our dog. Clementine had never met a dog before, and I’d intended to introduce them very slowly and carefully. When she caught her first glimpse of our dog Brother, I was focused wholly on him, making sure he didn’t lunge or startle her. She darted past me, and ran to rub her face against him.

She was sleeping on top him by the end of the week.

To our complete surprise, Clementine was not scared of dogs.

Clementine loved dogs.

All dogs. Any dogs.

We foster dogs, and every new one that came home got the same treatment. She ran to them like an old lover, chirping her barely-audible chirps, paws warming up to give them a deep tissue massage the moment they sat down.

She put in an application to adopt Sunny, a red heeler mix who was our our 13th or 14th foster. We accepted her application and made him our second dog.

In the course of her four-year career, she cat-trained over a dozen dogs, making each of them infinitely more adoptable. Many went on to permanent homes with cats.

I was always hovering around her and the dogs, incredibly nervous that one might injure her. She’d been declawed by her first owner; she was defenseless. 

But she knew exactly how to handle each one. She sat calmly and accepted sloppy licks from overly-affectionate dogs. She hid from excitable, high-energy dogs until after their playtime. We had one that was so afraid of cats that she was borderline aggressive towards them, but Clementine was absolutely determined. That dog was sleeping peacefully next to her after a month of relentless displays of patient friendliness.

Clem was the Nurse Joy of the house. She always knew if someone was hurting, emotionally or physically.

In this photo, our older dog Brother was suddenly deathly sick. Underneath the blanket he’s swaddled in more blankets and many layers of towels, because he was uncontrollably oozing blood. When we brought him home from the emergency vet, Clementine immediately crouched on top of his head, purring and kneading so intensely that it felt like she was in some kind of trance. He recovered fully.

When a (human) friend of ours was recovering from a horrible trauma, Clementine parked herself on her chest and refused to budge.

“But… But… I don’t like cats…” our friend said, a last feeble protest before submitting to Clementine’s healing ministrations.

We had four glorious years with Clementine. She made it to 18–a great age for a cat. She died peacefully, without pain, and is buried on our property, underneath a her favorite catnip plant.

I don’t know what her life was like before we met, but I know she was happy in those four years. She showed it to us every single day.

I’m so glad we took a chance on a shy senior. There were a lot of risks and a lot of unknowns. We were so focused on accepting those that we weren’t prepared for what we got: the best outcome of all possible outcomes.

That’s all I wanted to say, really! Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

New Cat is 14, the same age Clementine was when we adopted her. She’s in the early stages of renal disease, but we’re hoping she has a few good years left. I’m excited to get to know New Cat. I’m looking forward to posting pictures of her as she finds her place in our house.

I wrote an article soon after she died about why I think senior pets are totally worth it. You can read it here:

http://www.bitchesgetriches.com/twelve-reasons-senior-pets-are-an-awesome-investment/

[bitchesgetriches]

I’m so amazingly touched by all of the responses. I knew I could count on Tumblr bebes to appreciate Clem’s story! Thank you so much. My heart feels healed knowing she might convince others to give senior rescues a chance.

Also I’m happy to introduce New Cat.

This is Clover.

Like a clover: she is very smol and easily overlooked, but it’s good luck that we found her.

[vmohlere]

May Good Cat Clementine watch over us all.

[bispacenerd]

Ive been working really hard at changing my mindset. Trying to erase negativity and fill it with positivity. I think I’m getting better at it. One thing I try to do at the end of each day, while drinking my calming green tea (which has been helpful in its own way), is to think of a couple things I’m thankful for in my life. Tonight, that was a no-brainer.

My dogs.

One of my good friends recently lost 2 of her dogs. She used to have 4. One was old and lost unexpectedly. The other was only middle aged, and grew sick very quickly.

Tonight, I held mine a little tighter, snuggled them a little longer, and loved them harder. They are my babies, even if they are 5 years old. I’ve watched them grow since birth. And I can’t even imagine the pain that comes with losing your pet. My heart aches for my friend tonight, for her dogs who are no longer here but hopefully at peace, but damn am I thankful I have my two by side still.

[ofmiceormen]

RIP little man. 14 years of happy memories. I will miss you so much. See you in the next life, baby boy.

[imgayalso-ouch]

I miss her

I miss my baby girl.

I missed her the first night I spent away from her. Even though she was a tiny trembling mess and didn’t come out from under the couch for three days after we brought her in from the dumpster she was living in, I missed her and wanted to keep trying to gain her trust.

My friend who had rescued her named her Fay. While I liked the name, she was too rambunctious and robust to have such a dainty name. After a few days consideration, we decided on Cleo.

After those first three days, she finally crawled out from under the couch and sat on my lap, purring.

That’s when we knew she was staying and that we weren’t just fostering her like we said we would.

A day later, she would come out from under the couch as soon as I came into the room, wanting nothing more than to sit on my lap and be pet after she ate. She knew this is where she belonged.

I had had no purpose in life before that, but then I knew that I couldn’t leave; Cleo needed me. I needed to be there to take care of her and keep her company.

Soon after, she would curl up in a ball on my shoulder when I was laying down and would clean my hair.

After a week, we managed to give her a bath. The stench that came from living in a dumpster was washed away. Even after having to endure the stress of a bath, she immediately curled up on my chest afterwards and sat there, purring, soaking my shirt with her wet fur, not that I cared that I was getting almost as wet as she did.

We had a small stuffed cat we gave her to play with. At the beginning, it was almost the same size as her, but she would still drag it around the room by its head, struggling because it weighed almost the same as her, before flopping over to wrestle with it.

After a month, we introduced Cleo to our other cats. They were apprehensive of the weird kitten living upstairs, but soon enough she and our oldest cat were best friends, playing on the stairs and cleaning each other in the rocking chair.

I bought her a toy: a ball in a simple circular track. After I assembled it and showed her how to play with it, she chased the ball around in circles for a straight half hour before she started panting; I had to put it somewhere she couldn’t reach before she overheated herself from playing with it too much.

She never stopped being happy to see me when I came in the room. She never stopped begging to be held and pet after not seeing me for a few hours.

Whenever I was watching YouTube or writing on my computer, she would always climb up onto the desk to see what I was doing. I would put on a video of fish in the corner so she would stop trying to sit on my keyboard. It never really worked, but she was always so content to just sit there with me and keep me company.

After another month or two, my dad started letting her outside with our other cats to play. I had a panic attack when she wouldn’t come out from under the porch for a few hours. I shouted at my dad for letting her out: she was too young, not fast at all, didn’t know better than to stay near the house and not go near the road. He argued that it wasn’t fair to keep her inside and let the other cats out. I lost the argument as most of the household agreed.

When Cleo was six months old, we took her to the vet to get spayed. When we picked her up a few hours later, she started purring and mashing her head against the door of the carrier as soon as she saw me come into the vet’s office. As soon as we got home and let her out, she rubbed her head against me for ten minutes straight before falling asleep on my lap, not stopping her purring until she moved four hours after getting back home. I noticed she had pulled a patch of fur out of her front paw. She didn’t know if I was coming back for her and she got scared.

She never stopped playing with her small cat toy. Now that she could easily carry it around, she would carry it up and down the stairs, dropping it halfway so she could run down the stairs after it before doing it all over again. She would sometimes lay down with it and clean its face if it got dirty while she was playing with it.

On Christmas Day a month or two later, she laid on my lap all day. I didn’t know why; I was home that week, and had been giving her lots of affection in the time before that day. She didn’t move from my lap all through supper, even though I had to get up occasionally to help. I would hold her in one arm and help with the other, and as soon as I sat down again, she would readjust herself and fall right back asleep.

Our oldest cat and her loved chasing each other around the yard outside. They loved sitting on the picnic table and wrestling each other off, only to jump back up and fall asleep together minutes later.

She loved sitting in the garden and watching the birds. She was too slow to ever catch any, not for a lack of trying. Even after it rained, she loved slinking around in the tall grass, getting snails stuck to her long fur and covering her stomach in mud. She hated the baths in the sink that would follow shortly after, because she was never quick enough to clean herself before tracking mud and dirt through the house. She would always meow and complain as I washed her stomach off, but, just like the first time, she would always curl up on my lap and purr right afterwards as I dried her with a towel.

No matter how much she loved being in the garden, watching the birds and trying to catch bugs, she would always run to say “hello” to me as soon as she knew I was home. If I called her from the porch, she would stop what she was doing and run to the stairs, meowing and purring as she got closer and rubbed her head against me before pawing at my legs to pick her up. I always did, and she always rubbed her face against mine and licked my chin as she purred. She would stay in my arms for hours if I let her, and she would stay on my lap if I had to do something sitting down. If I was petting her, every few minutes without fail, she would pin down my hand and lick it for a few minutes before letting me continue to pet her.

My nephew was about ten months old, just a few months younger than Cleo. He loved her so much. I would hold her while somebody else held him, and even though he didn’t understand not to pull her fur, she would never turn and bite him. She would tolerate his grabby little hands and would sit still while we scolded him for yanking her fur or trying to put her ear in his mouth. She was beyond patient with him even though she was younger than him.

We didn’t do much for her birthday, just gave her some extra wet food and treats and a new jingly ball to play with. We didn’t know her birthday for sure, but we estimated it to be around May 11th.

A month later, my mom and stepdad got married. I came home the day after, called her in and she sat on my lap for a little while, purring away and licking my hand like always while I pet her with my other hand. I left for work a little while after. I was so tired and overworked and stressed that I started sobbing in the cooler at work. I wanted nothing more than to go home, call her in, lay down with her and listen to her purrs as she rubbed her head against me. I called my dad and went straight upstairs at home, not wanting to be around people and not bothering to call her in because I knew she was having fun watching the birds.

I was sitting in my room for three hours, debating whether or not to go call her in when my dad came up to talk to me.

My baby girl was gone at 13 months old.

She had been hit and killed by a car.

I broke my hand punching the corner of my wall. I yelled at him and blamed him for not letting me keep her safe.

I didn’t stop crying for three days straight afterwards. Two months later, I still cry most days because I know I’m never going to come home and be greeted by her tiny meows and feet on my legs as she begs to be held. I know I’m never going to have her sit on the computer desk beside me, keeping me company. I know that she’s never going to be laying on my lap, cleaning my hand as I pet her. I know she’s never going to be so excited and happy when I come home. I know she’s never going to be here when I come back, and most days I don’t want to. I don’t have a reason to stay alive anymore, and frankly I don’t want to.

I miss her tiny meows after I called her and let her know when I was home.

I miss seeing her run towards me from out of the garden, hearing her loud purrs as she got closer.

I miss having to pull the snails out of the long fur under her armpits that she couldn’t reach.

I miss her sandpaper tongue rasping against my hand as she laid on me.

I miss her excitement when I came in the house and woke her up to say hi; I miss her stretch as she woke up and tried to stumble to her feet to run over to me before she was even fully awake; I miss seeing the happy yet extremely tired look on her face when she heard my voice.

I miss having to put my other cat on a table with her wet food so Cleo wouldn’t push her out of the way after eating her own as fast as she could.

I miss sharing tiny bits of food with her when she would sit beside me and beg, her one paw on my foot.

I miss someone being excited about me.

I miss somebody missing me when I was away.

I miss somebody blatantly loving me.

I even miss having to clean the bits of litter off of her because she was too small and her fur too long for her to reach all of it.

I miss every little part of my baby girl, even the parts that drove me crazy while she was here.

I would do anything to have her jumping up on my lap while I was eating and try to stick her paws on my plate and snag some of my food. I would do anything if I could call her in from the rain and have to stick her in the sink, holding her on her back and letting the water run onto her stomach before she got annoyed of it and squirmed around, clawing my arms in an attempt to scramble onto my shoulders and sit her butt right on my head in defiance, not ceasing to purr even when she was annoyed with me. I would do anything to have to keep scolding her for pushing my older cat out of the way to steal her food.

I need her to know that I love her more than anything. I need her to know that I am beyond sorry that I couldn’t do better for her, that I couldn’t keep her safe. I need her to know that she was the light of my life and that nobody or nothing will ever replace her. I need her to know how much I love her, and I hope more than anything that she knew. I hope more than anything that she knows that I would do anything to get her back, happy and okay.

[frozen-trickster]

So my good boy Einstein passed away in his sleep at 1:30am on July 30th, 2019. He was 15 years old.

I immediately went to a lovely artist who captured my boys beauty. He understood how important it was to get him just right.

I have felt unending support for my loss from friends. A friend from work downloaded all the pictures I had of Einstein and made me a picture collage.

Another gave me a key chain and a pillow with his face of it.

I cry randomly still. I miss my boy. But this tattoo...

I can now keep my boy with me always.

Rest In Peace, Einstein and enjoy everyone this little sausage fox of mine.

[great-and-small]

Something that really breaks my heart is the cruel indifference that some people have towards pets or animals that they personally don’t enjoy. Like I hear so many stories about someone losing a beloved pet snake or rat or tarantula, only for their friends to say something like “good riddance”.

My best friend does not like my gerbils at all. She jokingly calls them vermin and teases me for being the only 25 year old woman that still has pet gerbils. She came to visit me one weekend when one of my sweet babies was really sick, and unfortunately called me at work to solemnly let me know my gerbil had passed. The entire drive home I was trying not to cry because we had plans and I didn’t want to ruin the weekend with my ridiculous grief over a rodent. When I got home, my best friend was sitting in the driveway, hand painting a little coffin with my gerbil’s name on it. I immediately started sobbing. She went and got me a glass of wine, and played a Stevie Nicks song on her phone while she dug a grave. After the somber funeral in my backyard, she cancelled our evening plans and we walked to a bar, where my best friend completely un-ironically held up a glass and toasted my dead gerbil, thanking her for the joy she’d brought me.

The point of this story is, you don’t have to share or even understand your friend’s interests to show them respect and empathy in a time of loss. It’s alright if you don’t like a friend’s unconventional pet, you certainly don’t have to! However, pet loss can be incredibly painful, and I think it is always best to err on the side of kindness.

[pomsdoodlefort]

Sugar and Lime  Passing the Torch

@sweetiesugarbird in honour of both old nad new, I love you all.

[sweetiesugarbird]

This really made me cry. It’s so beautiful. Thank you so so much.

[sweetiesugarbird]

I have started a fundraiser for the World Parrot Trust 

“Sugar was my beautiful cockatiel. She passed away from an unexpected illness in late May. She gave me so much joy and love, so I wanted to make a donation in her honor. She was admired by a number of people on tumblr, twitter, and instagram so I’ve decided to give others the chance to join me in making a donation by making this fundraiser. 100% of the money raised will be donated to World Parrot Trust USA in Sugar’s honor.”  

Thank you all for being so compassionate and for loving Sugar with me. I’ve said this already, but I am so grateful to be part of such a wonderful and supportive community. 

[sweetiesugarbird]

Sugar’s fundraiser has been shared by the World Parrot Trust on their Facebook page. I’m honored that they have decided to share my cause with their followers and I hope that we will be able to make a good donation. Thank you so much to everyone who donated so far.

[sweetiesugarbird]

The fundraiser will be ending soon, if you’d like to make a donation please do so while it is still open. Thank you all for your support.

[sweetiesugarbird]

4 days left. I would love to make a $500 donation. If we can at least get it close I may be able to afford to fill in the gap ❤️

[sweetiesugarbird]

I have started a fundraiser for the World Parrot Trust 

“Sugar was my beautiful cockatiel. She passed away from an unexpected illness in late May. She gave me so much joy and love, so I wanted to make a donation in her honor. She was admired by a number of people on tumblr, twitter, and instagram so I’ve decided to give others the chance to join me in making a donation by making this fundraiser. 100% of the money raised will be donated to World Parrot Trust USA in Sugar’s honor.”  

Thank you all for being so compassionate and for loving Sugar with me. I’ve said this already, but I am so grateful to be part of such a wonderful and supportive community. 

[sweetiesugarbird]

Sugar’s fundraiser has been shared by the World Parrot Trust on their Facebook page. I’m honored that they have decided to share my cause with their followers and I hope that we will be able to make a good donation. Thank you so much to everyone who donated so far.

[sweetiesugarbird]

The fundraiser will be ending soon, if you’d like to make a donation please do so while it is still open. Thank you all for your support.

[mostlycatsmostly]

How do you deal with the loss of a cat? A cat that I've had my entire life died nearly a year ago and I still can't move on. Life without him is so weird and uncomfortable. Do you have any advice?

I just lost my cat of 18 years a few weeks ago so I searched for answers myself. I visited my therapist a few extras times and she recommended this article as well to read.  

Coping with Pet Loss 

by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.

Anyone who considers a pet a beloved friend, companion, or family member knows the intense pain that accompanies the loss of that friend. Following are some tips on coping with that grief, and with the difficult decisions one faces upon the loss of a pet.

1. Am I crazy to hurt so much?

Intense grief over the loss of a pet is normal and natural. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s silly, crazy, or overly sentimental to grieve!

During the years you spent with your pet (even if they were few), it became a significant and constant part of your life. It was a source of comfort and companionship, of unconditional love and acceptance, of fun and joy. So don’t be surprised if you feel devastated by the loss of such a relationship.

People who don’t understand the pet/owner bond may not understand your pain. All that matters, however, is how you feel. Don’t let others dictate your feelings: They are valid, and may be extremely painful. But remember, you are not alone: Thousands of pet owners have gone through the same feelings.

2. What Can I Expect to Feel?

Different people experience grief in different ways. Besides your sorrow and loss, you may also experience the following emotions:

Guilt may occur if you feel responsible for your pet’s death-the “if only I had been more careful” syndrome. It is pointless and often erroneous to burden yourself with guilt for the accident or illness that claimed your pet’s life, and only makes it more difficult to resolve your grief.

Denial makes it difficult to accept that your pet is really gone. It’s hard to imagine that your pet won’t greet you when you come home, or that it doesn’t need its evening meal. Some pet owners carry this to extremes, and fear their pet is still alive and suffering somewhere. Others find it hard to get a new pet for fear of being “disloyal” to the old.

Anger may be directed at the illness that killed your pet, the driver of the speeding car, the veterinarian who “failed” to save its life. Sometimes it is justified, but when carried to extremes, it distracts you from the important task of resolving your grief.

Depression is a natural consequence of grief, but can leave you powerless to cope with your feelings. Extreme depression robs you of motivation and energy, causing you to dwell upon your sorrow.

3. What can I do about my feelings?

The most important step you can take is to be honest about your feelings. Don’t deny your pain, or your feelings of anger and guilt. Only by examining and coming to terms with your feelings can you begin to work through them.

You have a right to feel pain and grief! Someone you loved has died, and you feel alone and bereaved. You have a right to feel anger and guilt, as well. Acknowledge your feelings first, then ask yourself whether the circumstances actually justify them.

Locking away grief doesn’t make it go away. Express it. Cry, scream, pound the floor, talk it out. Do what helps you the most. Don’t try to avoid grief by not thinking about your pet; instead, reminisce about the good times. This will help you understand what your pet’s loss actually means to you.

Some find it helpful to express their feelings and memories in poems, stories, or letters to the pet. Other strategies including rearranging your schedule to fill in the times you would have spent with your pet; preparing a memorial such as a photo collage; and talking to others about your loss.

4. Who can I talk to?

If your family or friends love pets, they’ll understand what you’re going through. Don’t hide your feelings in a misguided effort to appear strong and calm! Working through your feelings with another person is one of the best ways to put them in perspective and find ways to handle them. Find someone you can talk to about how much the pet meant to you and how much you miss it-someone you feel comfortable crying and grieving with.

If you don’t have family or friends who understand, or if you need more help, ask your veterinarian or humane association to recommend a pet loss counselor or support group. Check with your church or hospital for grief counseling. Remember, your grief is genuine and deserving of support.

[whiteangelxoxo]

[shedidntsaythat]

The hardest parts aren’t even when I come home and he’s not there to greet me, or when I go to bed, he’s not there to snuggle. It’s when I wake up in a daze and look to the foot of the bed wondering where he is. Or when I’m on the couch and scan the room absentmindedly looking for where he’s laying. Or when I’m cooking and I drop something and I go to call his name to come eat it. And fleeting moments of thinking about him home alone but the remembering there is no one there.

This is so difficult. I miss him so much. I am constantly wracked with guilt that I didn’t do enough or spend enough time with him while he was here. Which is insane, I know I did everything I could and I loved him every minute of every day. But my heart is so heavy.

I’m going to a Pet Loss group tonight. I know it won’t have all the answers, but I hope it makes me feel better.