Two Weeks Post Loss.

Two weeks ago, at this moment, I was in what I can only describe as the most horrific labor. Two weeks later – I still ache. I find myself crying, sobbing, at the drop of a hat. I miss her. I miss my sweet baby so damn much. My body is physically healing but emotionally – emotionally I’m forever missing a piece of me that meant the world. It’ll always be this way.

My last entry was – vague – to say the least.

Snowflake went to the Rainbow. My soul was already crushed. Why not rip out some more? It literally couldn’t get worse. He was 14. Almost 15. He’d been progressively showing his age. I noticed not long ago he was 100% dead. He was close to blind. He was becoming anxious and confused. Being up with my own heartache led me to see how often he wandered in the night. I’d lay in bed silently, listening to his little paws pace. A sign of dementia in dogs says the vet. He was constantly peeing inside. Anywhere. A year ago it was just like marking and he was a jerk. Over the last few months it was frequent, anywhere. Literally like he’d just stop walking and pee. He had begun refusing to even walk outside. Likely due to his anxieties and failing health says the vet. Laying and crying for a week gave me lots of time with Snow. I realized he wasn’t barking like normal. He just slept. A lot. And made an odd breathing sound. Almost like a faint, painful whine. The same type of sound his brother made before he passed in his sleep one day. I mentioned this to Max who informed me he’d suspected he had renal failure beginning for a while based on urine colors and output. The vet simply agreed. He was almost 15. We expected this. It would be fair to let him go peacefully. While he still had some dignity.

So Friday I took him and quietly had him put down. I chose to go alone. I was a mess. A complete mess. Max then decided I was only doing this as I wasn’t thinking clearly and told me he’d move out and take Snowflake with him. (Hence, my last post.). I was thinking perfectly clear. I knew I was being selfish keeping him alive if he wasn’t living his best life. Max was the one not thinking clearly and not wanting additional grief. It needed to be done. It probably should have already been done. Hell, I want to die on my own terms if I’m old or sick – before I’m just a shell. He deserved the same.

It was so peaceful. At that moment I knew I made the right choice. He just sat quietly with me while we waited. Another clue he wasn’t doing well and I kicked myself for not noticing sooner. The vet took us back and explained what she was doing. Advising they’d give him some relaxing meds prior to the fatal injection and give it time to work. She said it’d be about 5 minutes. He wouldn’t eat my treats. Didn’t care she poked him. Damn it. He was really that bad. 3 minutes in her perked up and devoured my treats. He was so damn happy. I pet him and talked and told him to love my baby when he made it. She returned and I asked about the perking up – The meds also take away all pain and that too is an indication he was hurting. She gave him his injection and he passed peacefully and quickly into the next world. His little body was ready. My heart was not. I should have his cremains back later this week.

My house is so quiet without his barking. It also smells amazing without the pee. So, I’m down to 3 dogs and a bird. The birds 25. The dogs are 11, 6 and 5. I’m done getting pets for awhile. Maybe a long while. I’m not ready to do this part again anytime soon.

Obviously, Max didn’t leave. Nor was he ever going to. We both may be a little high strung and dramatic with all the recent pain. He really felt I was going to wake up and regret this choice. I guess he felt saying he would leave would stop me.  Saying we can’t have more retrievals if I’m going to do irrational things would stop me. I know my choice was right tho.

I also know he doesn’t 100% want to do more retrievals like I do. Yet, I know that he too wants to get to the end result of a healthy baby. To do that we have to do the hard stuff too. It sucks. But it’s true. I don’t want the heartache. But I want the ending so freaking bad.

It sucks.

In the meantime, we’ve got a foster placement moving in soon. I believe they wanted today but as they drug their feet on this one I advised I’d pick her up Saturday. They were to call to let me know if the current placement would agree to a few more days and I never heard back. So I’m assuming so.

This is the same girl they’ve asked about a few other times. She’s now blown out of two foster homes since getting out of the group home in August. Poor kids only 10. I’ve been told she’s angry. Me too girl. Me too. Of course she’s angry. Her bio parents have hurt her. Everyone gives up when she shows behaviors. Yes. She’s angry. Each move will only make her angrier.

So, we will be angry together. We can hate the world together. Maybe in the process we can also heal together. Maybe we’re exactly what the other needs.

I need to stay busy and have someone to care for. She needs to be loved and not given up on. We can offer that to each other. Completely. I won’t give up. She won’t make it easy. Perfect match.