Trauma and Humor: A Bad Combination
If you follow me on Facebook, then you might have guessed there would be an upcoming blog about the passing of our sweet poodle, Charlie. He would have been 15 years old in December, which is a good run for any dog. He’d been sick the last 2 1/2 years with congestive heart disease, and though Jeff and I were aware that time was running out, the shock of his passing was still overwhelming.
Oh, No. Your Not Going to Talk About It?
Yes. Just a bit. Bear with me.
Our First Dog
In 2002, I was out of town on business when Jeff put Woody, our wire-hair fox terrier, to sleep. And even though it was many years ago, I remember being relieved that I didn’t have to make the decision. Poor Jeff had to do it alone. And to be honest, I didn’t understand the pain of the experience. I wasn’t in the room that day. I didn’t hold Woody as he took his last breath. It was easy to separate from the experience. Easy for me to make ridiculous jokes in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. After all, that’s what I do. When things get uncomfortable, I joke. It’s my coping strategy.
And Now This Week
We opted for in-home euthanasia after the vet told us that Charlie needed daily doses of fluids under the skin. We were familiar with the procedure. We’d given fluids to our first dog for over six months. Woody never seemed to mind. He always sat calmly through it and then immediately perked up. But Charlie was not about to do the same. He’d had enough. I could see it in his eyes. We were scaring him and he was tired. Too many pills and too much poking.
It Was Time
And so Jeff and I decided together and our vet agreed. We opted for an in-home visit, thinking it would be easier for Charlie. But there is no such thing as easier. I’m still haunted by the surprised look in Charlie’s eyes when he was poked in the rear by the first needle. The drug that provided the calming euphoria. And then the look when he received the last shot. And those final breaths.
Apologies Are Due
There are times in life when we create discord in our relationships without really understanding how. I did that by not appreciating the extent of the trauma Jeff suffered when he put Woody to sleep. I understand that pain now. Sometimes, we need to go through an experience to grasp the enormity of its impact. I wish that wasn’t true. And for that, I am sorry. Jeff deserved better.
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My family has loved and suffered thru the lives of 3 dogs. By the time we were losing our 3rd precious dog, Mollie; 2/3 of our kids had accompanied me to the vet for their final visits & goodbyes. My husband had yet to share in that awesome and devastatingly sad last experience of cherishing a beloved family pet. So this time I was prepared to “request” my son’s presence and I knew my husband would join as Mollie was his most beloved. Our kids all love and adore dogs and in fact 2/3 now have sibling labradoodles in their respective homes but that’s now, this was then! It took a bit over the few hours but our son reluctantly came and I feel very strongly that part of owning/loving a pet is being able to say goodbye when our humanity says the time is right. I was proud of my son then as I am all our kids and we have all moved on from losing our precious Mollie to loving our adorable little Yorkie, Cali & the kids’ dogs, Frankie and Izzy!
Thanks, Amy for sharing about your family experience. It helps to hear from others and to know that loss is inevitable when we fall in love with our fur babies.
Brad – you know we truly feel your loss. When we put our beloved Champagne down (after months of battling enlarged heart issues) I bawled like a baby. Thank God Kyle was there to hold me up and help me to the car (out of the vets office),, even though he was suffering his own trauma. The loss, the finality, the pain as overwhelming. Yet what I remember most about that awful day was that when she passed her coat glistened like diamonds. She was as beautiful in death as she was in life. We sufferred with her loss for several weeks because of the reactions of our other pets wondering around and looking for her in the house.
The years of love and special care you both gave Charlie, and the thoghtful way of putting him down at home speaks to your love for him. The act of loss is hard, but remember to hold each other tight and talk about the fun times with Charlie. That’s the best way to remember him. ❤️😘
Thank you, Fred, for sharing your memories. It has been very hard. But I so appreciate your words of love and wisdom. I’ll hold them near to my heart.